BRANDONS 
 
 -.* 
 
 KATHARINE T-YNAN

 
 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS 

 
 ESTHER WAS SITTING AT OONA's FEET GAZING INTO THE HEART 
 OF THE FIRE."
 
 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS 
 
 BY 
 
 KATHARINE TYNAN 
 
 Author of "The Dear Irish Girl" "She Walks in Beauty 
 " Oh, what a Plague is Love ! " &c. 
 
 WITH TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS BY GERTRUDE DEXAItf HAMMOffD, R.I. 
 
 CHICAGO 
 A. C. M'CLURG & CO 
 
 1901
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CIIAP. Page 
 
 I. CASTLE BBANDON AND CASTLE ANGBY, 9 
 
 II. WE BRANDONS, 21 
 
 III. ANNAGASSAN RACES, 31 
 
 IV. I PAY THE RECKONING, 42 
 
 V. FREDA 52 
 
 VI. "HOW OPT HAS THE BANSHEE CRIED?" 66 
 
 VII. A TRUE WORD SPOKEN IN JEST, 77 
 
 VIII. THE STRANGER WITHIN THE GATE, 87 
 
 IX. AN IMPOSSIBLE FRIENDSHIP 100 
 
 X. FROM THE NIGHT AND THE STORM 109 
 
 XI. A FAIRY GODMOTHER, 120 
 
 XII. A SECRET ROOM, 132 
 
 XIII. CINDERELLA, 142 
 
 XIV. THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE, 156 
 
 XV. PIERCE GOES ON A JOURNEY, 168 
 
 XVI. HONEY AMONG THE ROSES, 179 
 
 XVII. THE MASTER OP ROSE HILL, . , 192 
 
 XVIII. THE STORY OP A SORROW, 204 
 
 XIX. I VISIT THE GREAT WORLD, 215 
 
 XX. FREDA'S MYSTERY, 227 
 
 XXI. FREDA BREAKS SILENCE, . . . . 239 
 
 S13377O
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. Page 
 
 XXII. BOOKS AND SOLDIERS, 253 
 
 XXIII. ESTHER, 266 
 
 XXIV. SIR RUPERT, 279 
 
 XXV. "WlLL YE NO COME BACK AGAIN?" 291 
 
 XXVI. THE UGLY DUCKLING 305 
 
 XXVII. THE WEB OP THE SPIDER, 318 
 
 XXVIII. OUT OP THE WEB, 329 
 
 XXIX. THE LAST OP CASTLE ANGRY 342 
 
 XXX. WEDDING-BELLS, 354 
 
 XXXI. ONCE AND FOR EVER, 365 
 
 XXXII. THE RESTORATION OP BRANDON, . 376
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 I'age 
 
 "ESTHER WAS SITTING AT OONA'S FEET GAZINO INTO THE HEART 
 OP THE FIRE," Frontis. 88 
 
 "THEY USED TO WALK TOGETHER A GOOD DEAL IN THE WOODS," 28 
 "MY POOR LITTLE GIRL, I AM AFRAID YOU ARE HURT," ... 43 
 
 "WHAT A FIGURE OF A MAN YOUR GRANDFATHER WAS! ... I 
 MIGHT HAVE BEEN YOUR GRANDMOTHER!" 133 
 
 "GARNETS!" SAID THE OLD LADY, PEERING CLOSELY. "THEY 
 ARE NO GARNETS," 153 
 
 "NOW, LOOK HERE," HE SAID GRUFFLY, "ARE YOU A CLASSICAL 
 HOUSEMAID?" 196 
 
 "FREDA CAME BACK, PROUDLY LEADING HER SON," .... 238 
 
 " LADY O'BRIEN STOOD UP NOW AND SHOOK AN ANGRY HEAD 
 AT HIM," 288 
 
 "HE WAS AS DISAGREEABLE AS MOST GARDENERS ABOUT CUTTING 
 HIS FLOWERS," 302 
 
 "HE SEEN THE STONE THAT HAD HIT HIM, AN* A BIT OF PAPER 
 WRAPPED AROUND IT," 323 
 
 "THE RAVINE WAS FULL OF THE BOG, MOVING, A GREAT BLACK 
 SLUGGISH MASS," 352 
 
 " I CAN ONLY SAY, MlSS BRANDON, THAT I LOVED THE LAD 
 LIKE A SON," 379
 
 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CASTLE BRANDON AND CASTLE ANGRY. 
 
 DON'T know whether Brandon Mountain was 
 called from us or we from the mountain. The 
 country people say that there were Brandons 
 in the land before the mountains were made. 
 Anyhow the mountains are likely to be there when there 
 are no Brandons, so far as I can see. For how is a family 
 to last when it has come to living on nothing, and the 
 number of the family all told nine, they being nearly 
 all healthy and hungry people? At least there were 
 nine before Pierce and Freda left us, and now there are 
 seven. I foresee that one of these days, in spite of our 
 vows to the contrary, we shall have to sell Brandon 
 after all. 
 
 Now if some nice English lord would come along and 
 buy it, to sell it would not" be so bitter. Sometimes 
 places do sell just for sheer beauty, and Brandon has 
 nothing else. Time was when it had deer and grouse
 
 10 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 and pheasants and wild little black cattle, to say nothing 
 of hares and curlews and such small fry. But that was 
 before the prosperity went from us to "the bad De 
 Lacys ", as they are called far and near. 
 
 I suppose they deserved their name in the old days 
 when they won it. They were a persecuting, wild-living, 
 hard-riding, hard-drinking race ever and always, and the 
 people do not forget it to them that they burned chapels 
 and flayed peasants at the cart-wheel in the old unhappy 
 times that, thank God, are passed for ever. 
 
 The Brandons of Brandon and the De Lacys of Angry 
 used in the old days to rule the county between them, 
 though the Brandons, to believe the talk of the peasants 
 and the more reliable county histories, were always good 
 to their people. There was as much difference between 
 them, say the country people, as between Brandon Hill 
 and Angry Mountain. 
 
 Dear Brandon, that we all opened our eyes upon nearly 
 as soon as we were born! Brandon always seems to take 
 the sunshine. There, beyond the trees of our park, the 
 blue peak lifts gloriously a smiling face to heaven. The 
 gold of sunset crowns it, and the roses of the dawn fall 
 first upon its head. Usually it is purple as a pansy, but 
 if the clouds lie on it they are silver wisps finer than 
 gossamer. The cold weather turns Brandon to bronze 
 and gold. There are times when the slopes of it are as 
 golden as a May pasture with the gorse in bloom, and 
 times again when the drifts of heather are like fields of 
 scattered rose-leavea
 
 CASTLE BRANDON AND CASTLE ANGRY. 11 
 
 Up there, where the little woods are, is like fairy-land. 
 You are in a world of feathery aisles and arches. The 
 ground under your feet in spring is dancing with the 
 daffodils, or a little later with the wild hyacinths, and 
 below them a carpet of the greenest moss. There are 
 little trout-rivers, amber-brown, and always singing as 
 softly as Oona, our nurse, used to sing her " Cusha Loo " 
 to us to put us asleep. But for those same trout-streams 
 often and often had we Brandons gone hungry. 
 
 Angry Mountain no doubt had its name from its looks. 
 No one ever saw its head out of the clouds. When 
 there is thunder it bellows terribly out of the wall of 
 cloud on Angry. There is a great chasm in the side of 
 it, " The Devil's Slice " they call it, which looks like the 
 track of an avalanche. There are some who say that the 
 hidden lake on top of Angry once emptied itself and 
 swept a whole tract of boggy country before it down 
 upon the villages and churches and farms and cabins. 
 Angry Woods, that clothe the mountain base, have a bad 
 name. People say that the kindly growths of other 
 woods are sparse and thin there that it is a place of 
 gnarled old trees flinging themselves about in horrible 
 attitudes -that it is damp and full of fungus and that 
 you never know when you may plunge into a bog-hole 
 unaware, and be drowned there, and dried into a brown 
 mummy, no one knowing your fate. 
 
 I expect most of those who have visited Angry Woods 
 have gone there by nightfall, and with their hearts in 
 their mouths, prepared for all manner of horrors. By
 
 12 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 day the fear of Sir Rupert De Lacy and his bloodhounds 
 is too great. Yet it would be quite in keeping with Sir 
 Rupert's character, if he suspected an intruder in his 
 woods by night, to let the bloodhounds loose. If some 
 poor creature were torn to pieces by them, God help us, 
 no one supposes that Sir Rupert would care; and, from 
 the glimpse I once caught of him, I could believe any ill 
 of him. 
 
 That was before I had lamed myself, and become the 
 weak and ugly duckling of the handsome Brandons. 
 There is a great chestnut tree that has grown through 
 the walls of Brandon Abbey and brought down the solid 
 masonry before it. I had my summer withdra wing-room 
 in the chestnut, and nobody knew for a long time. When 
 we were all in the woods, Esther and Hugh, and Donald, 
 and the twins and I, it used to be my sport to disappear 
 into my tree, where the others could never find me. 
 Delicious it was like a world under the sea in the 
 midst of green leaves. When the boughs hung up 
 their lamps in spring, and the leaves had just shaken out 
 their delicate fans, I used to feel as if the chestnut 
 tree were fairyland, and too beautiful for anything of 
 earth. 
 
 I used to read in the chestnut I was always the 
 reading one of the family and used to love to hide 
 in it while the others ran here and there calling me 
 through the woods. 
 
 The road runs under the Abbey walls. There used to 
 be a fortified wall running round Brandon to protect it
 
 CASTLE BRANDON AND CASTLE ANGRY. 13 
 
 from the Irish chieftains, with whom afterwards we 
 Brandons became such good friends, and even inter- 
 married. The outer wall of the Abbey is an integral 
 part of the old wall. 
 
 Well, as I was sitting high in my leafy house one day, 
 I heard the sound of hoofs, and looked out to see who 
 might be passing. There were two men, mounted, and 
 at their heels three heavily-built, lumbering dogs, of a 
 variety new to me. It was easy to guess that they were 
 the bloodhounds of whom the country people stood in 
 such dread. 
 
 Poor beasts! I should not have feared them myself 
 half as much as I should have feared either of those men. 
 They looked weary and footsore, being indeed of a breed 
 too heavy to follow mounted men, and they were plod- 
 ding along in the dust of the road and the hot sun, in a 
 way that made me feel very sorry for them. 
 
 The rider in front was evidently Sir Rupert De Lacy. 
 He was a big old man, with square relentless jaws, and 
 the colour of gray granite. His hair was quite white and 
 soft, such hair as might have belonged to an innocent, 
 gentle old man. But Sir Rupert had eyes as ferocious 
 as a wild beast's, with curious red lights in them which 
 I should say were the lights of madness. 
 
 You will wonder how I saw all this, but as it happened 
 Sir Rupert was riding bareheaded, and as he passed 
 below my tree he pointed with his whip towards Brandon, 
 and then laughed. My description of him owes nothing 
 at all to fancy, though the others laughed at me about it,
 
 14 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 and said it was only my romantic way to fancy I could 
 see the fires in our old enemy's eyes. 
 
 Behind him a pace or two rode James Gaskin, Sir 
 Rupert's steward Sir Rupert's " devil ", as I have heard 
 him called. When a man has a mind to be wicked in- 
 deed Satan generally gives him tools to his liking, and if 
 half the stories about Gaskin were true, he was as much 
 more wicked than Sir Rupert as hell is wickeder than 
 earth. 
 
 Gaskin was yellow and shrivelled, with a slight hump 
 between his shoulders. He was grinning in answer to 
 Sir Rupert's speech, and the grin showed teeth like fangs. 
 I have never, indeed, seen a face in which evil was so 
 terribly written. 
 
 Now as they passed below, Paudeen, my little half- 
 bred Irish terrier, who was lying in my lap, must needs 
 cock his ears and growl. The men did not hear it, but 
 the dogs did, and growled in answer/ Then the man, 
 Gaskin, snatched from his pocket a horrible knotted whip, 
 and, leaning over, lashed at the poor beasts that were 
 doing no harm. Two of them shrank away whimpering. 
 The third never flinched, brit, lifting her tremendous 
 jowl, faced the man with her black lips drawn back 
 over her great teeth, and every hair on her bristling. 
 I almost laughed aloud to see how Mr. Gaskin trotted 
 forward to put a good space between himself and the 
 brute. 
 
 Sir Rupert burst into laughter, a harsh and insolent 
 laughter without merriment.
 
 CASTLE BRANDON AND CASTLE ANGRY. 15 
 
 " Take care, Gaskin," he spluttered, " or Venom will 
 pay off old scores on you one of these days. She hasn't 
 forgotten that touch you gave her with the red-hot irons. 
 She'll do you a mischief if she can. I'd confine my at- 
 tentions to the other brutes if I were you." 
 
 So much I heard before the pair rode away out of 
 hearing a blot on the sunny day. It was seldom that 
 Sir Rupert was seen in our part of the world, or indeed 
 anywhere outside his own Castle of Angry, where they 
 say that he and Gaskin drink together, and the peasants 
 suppose that the devil himself often makes a third. 
 
 Somehow I guessed that he had come, casting his 
 shadow on Brandon, that he might see the place he is 
 bent on making his own. Alas! Sir Rupert is our one 
 probable purchaser for our dear old home. Who else 
 would want it? all gone to ruin as it is, and stripped of 
 all but its beauty. How often we have declared hotly 
 that we would die ere he should have it, every one of 
 us, from Aline to the youngest twin. But there he sits 
 like a great gray old spider in his web, waiting and 
 waiting till we are obliged to walk into it and he gobbles 
 us and our poor Brandon up; and also the poor innocent 
 people as well, in their wretched neglected mountain 
 farms, who exist simply by reason of our forbearance. 
 
 Yet Oona, our nurse, remembers when Sir Rupert was 
 a dashing young gentleman, no one ever suspected that 
 he would grow into an ogre. 
 
 " He had the bad drop, though," Oona will say, wagging 
 her old head. " He was personable, but never to my
 
 16 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 liking. Your grandmama, Miss Hilda, could never abide 
 him, and wouldn't have married him not if your grand- 
 papa had never been born. She guessed at the bad drop 
 in him, dear young lady, though her ears had been kept 
 from hearing what other people knew of him. Your 
 grandpapa and he were like day and night, the one all 
 goodness and brightness, the other with the black passions 
 already marking his face." 
 
 Oona has told me over and over again the story of the 
 love of the two men for my grandmother, an episode 
 which has ruined us Brandons, and made Sir Rupert our 
 implacable enemy. 
 
 Our grandmother's picture hangs in the boudoir, where 
 Aline sits sewing or writing letters, or puzzling over 
 wretched sums, poor darling! There are beautiful women 
 nowadays, but women like our grandmother seem to 
 have left the world altogether. . She must have been 
 very tall; the folds of her white silk dress sweep away 
 an endless distance in the picture. She has the neck of 
 a swan, and a face, pure oval, with large melancholy eyes. 
 Ringlets fall on either side of her exquisite face, and so 
 innocent is her expression that she seems rather a creature 
 for heaven than for earth. And indeed she did not live 
 long after our dear father was born. 
 
 Grandpapa I can remember dimly, and can well believe 
 that he was a handsome young man. Trouble had bent 
 him, but there was no bitterness in the blue eyes " eyes 
 of youth ", though youth had long left him. Even for 
 Sir Rupert he had forgiveness at last, so true a Christian 
 
 (M436)
 
 CASTLE BRANDON AND CASTLE ANGRY. 17 
 
 was he, so humbly emulous of the Master he loved and 
 served. 
 
 Why, Aline is exactly what he must have been at her 
 age, except that Aline has borne the burden of us all so 
 long that she has more lines of care round her dear blue 
 eyes and her gentle mouth than ought to be there. 
 
 However, Oona says that grandpapa, good as he was, 
 was as spirited a young gentleman as any of his com- 
 peers. No one could say of him that he was a milksop. 
 He and Sir Rupert were ever something of rivals from 
 the days they were boys at school together, and not in 
 bookish matters. At games and sports they strove to 
 outstrip each other. They were ensigns in the same 
 regiment, and in the wars abroad none could say which 
 was the better man in the field, though even then Sir 
 Rupert had begun to have something of a bad reputation. 
 Then the peace came, and the two young gentlemen 
 swaggered it a while against each other in London 
 drawing-rooms before coming back to their neighbouring 
 patrimonies. There both fell in love with the same 
 woman. 
 
 There was never any doubt from the beginning as to 
 the way Aline Ashburton's heart had gone. But Sir 
 Rupert would not believe it till she was actually married. 
 Then he seemed to accept the triumph of his rival so 
 generously, to all appearance, that our dear grandfather 
 was full of remorse for the bad opinion he had held of 
 him for long. Among the Brandon jewels is, or was, the 
 collet of diamonds which Sir Rupert sent our grand- 
 
 ( M 436 ) B
 
 18 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 mother. Inside the clasp is written, "To the Fairest", 
 with the date of grandmother's marriage. 
 
 To make a long story short, Sir Rupert most wickedly 
 wormed himself into grandfather's confidence. I can 
 well believe that the generous heart was full of pity and 
 tenderness for its unsuccessful rival. My grandmother, 
 Oona says, never liked the friendship, but she could give 
 no reason, except her feminine instincts, for her distrust 
 of her old suitor, and those were not enough. 
 
 Ah! dear grandpapa was surely easily duped. Even 
 when his pseudo- friend had betrayed him, no mist of 
 suspicion ever gathered between those blue eyes and the 
 world. In his latter days, indeed, he grew so much like 
 heaven, so little like earth, that his righteous anger 
 against Rupert De Lacy was lost in his profound pity 
 for the sinner such pity as an angel might have, who 
 should realize all the horror of sin, and yet yearn over 
 the soul for which Christ died. 
 
 Sir Rupert, even in those early days, had had some- 
 thing of a taste for science, and in the years that followed 
 his disappointment in love he had devoted a certain 
 amount of time to study in the laboratory which he had 
 fitted up in his house. 
 
 Now there was, where Brandon estate wanders away 
 to the mountain, a bit of unenclosed land, bare and poor, 
 which up to that time had been regarded as waste. It 
 was beyond Brandon walls, and nearly trenched on the 
 lands of Castle Angry. 
 
 Well, Sir Rupert easily enough cozened my grandfather
 
 CASTLE BRANDON AND CASTLE ANGRY. 19 
 
 out of it. There was water there, he said, and his cattle 
 had but brackish bog-pools. My grandfather was for 
 giving it to him, but Sir Rupert would not have it so, 
 and the deeds were regularly made out, signed, and 
 delivered. Then, too late, it was discovered why Sir 
 Rupert wanted the land. Why, underneath its docks 
 and dandelions it was one great seam of copper! 
 
 The copper mines made the De Lacys rich and the 
 Brandons poor. When grandfather discovered how he had 
 been cheated, and that there was no remedy, he began to 
 sink for copper on his own account. People said that by 
 means of paid agents Sir Rupert fostered in my grand- 
 father what soon became a craze. How many thousands 
 of pounds were poured into those wretched pits over 
 there towards Angry I would not like to say. Sometimes 
 copper was found in small quantities, placed there, people 
 said, by Sir Rupert's agents. Such finds only set my 
 grandfather to harder and more feverish endeavour, but 
 they all ended in nothing. The one seam, and that 
 apparently inexhaustible, was on Whinny Waste, as the 
 No Man's Land was called. 
 
 While my grandfather was ruining himself and future 
 Brandons, Sir Rupert was heaping up gold. But now the 
 mines are no longer his, for a few years ago he sold them 
 for a great sum to an English company. People say it 
 was because he had a profound contempt for the business 
 capacity of his grandson, a young fellow of whom we see 
 nothing in this country, his youth having been spent with 
 his mother's people in an English rectory. Indeed, Castle
 
 20 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 Angry would have been no place for a young life to grow 
 up in; and the young man may be like his father, about 
 whose marriage Sir Rupert was so furious that he never 
 laid eyes on him afterwards. 
 
 Anyhow, he must be the better for not having known, 
 in the tender days of his youth, his terrible old grand- 
 father and James Gaskin.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 WE BRANDONS. 
 
 WITHIN Brandon walls we are out of the world. 
 We know nothing of the copper mines, except 
 that sometimes we meet a shock-headed miner or two 
 when we are on our way to the village. The sulphur- 
 coloured washings enter Brandon river some miles away, 
 and are carried out to sea. None of the smoke or smell 
 of the mines is blown our way. In my heart I am glad 
 that no copper was ever found on Brandon Mountain. I 
 could not bear to see his beautiful blue and purple sides 
 disfigured by the brimstone of the pit, whatever of gold 
 it might mean to us. 
 
 We keep much within our walls, and fortunately we 
 have no lack of room to stretch our legs. Our neigh- 
 bours live at long distances from us, and though they 
 would be kind, no doubt, because we are Brandons, we 
 couldn't keep up with them in any way. 
 
 Why, we girls would have no clothes to wear at all if 
 it were not for the stores laid away in oak chests and 
 wardrobes upstairs, belonging to dead-and-gone Brandon 
 ladies. Fortunately they made no shoddy in those days,
 
 22 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 and the things have been safe in their camphor-lined 
 dwellings from the moth and mildew. Brocades are 
 there, fine yellow muslins that you could draw through 
 a ring, woollens nearly as fine; and, as pretty as any 
 of them, chintzes in bunched-up sacques belonging to a 
 day when it was the fashion to be Arcadian. 
 
 We have adapted them with the aid of Mary Fahy, 
 the village dressmaker, and a deal of trouble I often 
 have to prevent her alterations being too drastic. A 
 newspaper sometimes comes our way, and I know that it 
 is the fashion for ladies nowadays to dress picturesquely, 
 so I insist, greatly to Mary's discontent, that the precious 
 old stuffs must not be cut, or too much pulled about, but 
 only just pinched in here, or drawn out there, to fit us. 
 
 Not that she despises the beautiful material, which I 
 have seen her fingering with rapt enjoyment. It is 
 only that she hankers after the fashions ever since she 
 paid a visit to Dublin, and, having a cousin a house- 
 maid at the Castle, was permitted a peep at various 
 festivities, with all the fine folk taking part in them. 
 Mary's cousin, too, occasionally sends her a lady's paper, 
 which serves to keep her ideas modern. However, I let 
 her have her own way, with modifications, on the print 
 frocks we wear in summer-time, to make up for my 
 obstinacy about the old stuffs. 
 
 I feel that I am talking as if I were the head of the 
 i'amily. That is because Aline and Esther leave so much 
 to my judgment. I am supposed to have the brains of 
 the women of the family, which, if it is true, is only
 
 WE BRANDONS. 23 
 
 fair, as the others have the beauty. I have been delicate 
 since the fall that lamed me, pale and puny and insig- 
 nificant, with light -col cured hair and washed-out blue 
 eyes. Esther is like mother, but more beautiful dark, 
 with such vivid roses in her cheeks and lips, and such 
 velvety eyes, and hair with coppery lights in it. 
 
 Brandon is a big house, four stories in the middle, 
 with wings of three stories on each side. But the upper 
 stories do not exist for us. They have so long let in the 
 weather that we have given them over to the owls and 
 bats. There is a deal of rubbish up there as well, and 
 the children look upon it as a kind of Treasure Land, so 
 that we have to keep the doors of communication safely 
 locked, or we would never have our young pickles out of 
 the rotting rooms. 
 
 I have sometimes gone there myself of course I am 
 to be trusted and have leant my arms on a window- 
 sill, and looked down at dear Aline toiling away in the 
 corner of the rose garden, which she has kept from 
 returning to wilderness. I have seen the twins, too, 
 sitting there demurely under Aline's eye with their 
 lesson-books open on their laps, two pattern little dam- 
 sels; till suddenly in a moment, Aline having forgotten 
 them over her roses, they would slip from the stone 
 seat, and, holding each other's hands, would steal through 
 the sweet-brier hedge, and run, run, till they were far 
 beyond Aline's call; thus keeping tryst, naughty little 
 girls, with Hugh and Donald, who were trout-fishing or 
 rabbit-snaring in the woods.
 
 24 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 Then my gaze would wander over the tree-tops to our 
 dear Brandon, and on to Angry Mountain, fuming 
 with clouds. I could see the towers of Castle Angry in 
 the fissure the old bog-slide had left, there on its solid 
 land, and the bog-holes and little rivers which surround 
 it, so that it has to be approached by a causeway. When 
 my eyes rested on Castle Angry, I would always shake 
 my fist and frown, before withdrawing myself from my 
 post of observation. 
 
 Oona is our housekeeper now, and as stiff with the 
 Kates and Pollys of the village, who are our clumsy but 
 willing little handmaidens, as though she had a great 
 staff of servants under her. Oona never forgets what 
 the Brandons were in old days, and ignores as much as 
 possible the sad change that has come upon the family 
 fortunes. Even if we have only a skinny chicken and a 
 pig's cheek and greens for our dinner, they are served 
 on silver, and the old table-linen, darned to the last 
 extent, is always beautifully snowy and shining, as its 
 texture deserves. 
 
 When we are alone Oona's manner to us is that of a 
 nurse to her children, scolding often, petting again, and 
 sometimes dictatorial. But before the little round-eyed 
 servants she never forgets what is due to a Brandon, 
 and her humility of manner towards us is no end of a 
 jest, for we have always feared Oona so much more than 
 she has feared us, that is, we younger ones. 
 
 Only to-day I was sitting with Aline in the boudoir, 
 to which we have brought our griefs and misfortunes
 
 WE BRANDONS. 25 
 
 and peccadillos, ever since our dear mother died. I was 
 just looking into the turf fire and prodding it up with a 
 stick to make the sparks fly out of it, while Aline sat 
 mending a pinafore belonging to one of the twins, and 
 now and again smiling at me without speaking. 
 
 Suddenly there broke into the silence of the little 
 room, where the smell of yesterday's roses blent with 
 the sharp turf -smoke, a loud wail. Aline sprang to her 
 feet, but I made a signal to her to be quiet. 
 
 "It is only Oona lecturing Polly," I said; "listen, and 
 we will hear what it is all about." 
 
 " Indeed," wailed the voice, " 'tis doin' me best I am. 
 Amn't I wearin' them ould boots to plase you when me 
 feet does be cut to bits wid them, an' the ould gazebo 
 of a thing you've had me put on me head enough to 
 break me heart? Sure I didn't know there was any 
 harm at all at all in laughin' at the young gentlemen's 
 jokes at dinner, an' they so arch I thought I'd have to 
 run out of the room in screeches, so I did." 
 
 "You're a bad, ungrateful little girl!" says Oona, stem- 
 ming the flow of words, " or 'tis glad an' proud you'd be 
 to have boots on them dirty feet of yours, and a cap to 
 cover your head, that's more like a haystack than a 
 Christian girl's. Why, when I was young, and in ser- 
 vice in this very house, the housekeeper would have 
 given me the quare goin' over if I let on any more than 
 the poker that I heard anythin' was said when I was 
 waitin' table. 'Twould be as much as my place was 
 worth."
 
 26 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " 0, glory be to goodness, Mr. O'Connor, dear," cried 
 the culprit, " sure we can't all be pokers, let alone that I 
 can see them blessed childher just play-actin' at me to 
 make me run out o' the room wid the laughin'." 
 
 " Childher! Am I to understand you as referrin' to 
 the young gentlemen of the house?" we hear Oona say 
 in the loftiest tones; but at this moment a diversion 
 occurs, for the twins come racing along the corridor with 
 a letter for Aline, and Oona transfers her lecture and 
 little Polly to the housekeeper's room. 
 
 I always like to sit in Aline's room, there is such an 
 atmosphere of quietness about her. Quietness and the 
 sun are two things I associate with her. Is it always 
 sunny in that little octagon room, or is it only an 
 effect of the faded yellow silk panelling, and the old 
 chairs and sofas in the same sunny colouring? One side 
 of Aline's lantern-shaped room is indeed all window, and 
 the upper panes filled with little golden shields, so that 
 the room receives all the sunlight going. Except Aline's 
 desk, which we have been told is genuine Sheraton, 
 and worth a handful of money, the room has little fur- 
 niture other than its straight-backed couches and chairs. 
 
 I am sure there are secret cupboards behind some of 
 those panels. Often, when Aline has been writing her 
 long letters to Pierce or Freda, I have gone creeping 
 round the room, touching every knob of the curious 
 carved roses that surround the panels of yellow brocade. 
 But I have never succeeded in making a panel slide back, 
 as I have fondly hoped to do. Again and again I have
 
 \VE BRANDONS. 27 
 
 desisted only when I discovered Aline's grave smile 
 upon me. 
 
 You will wonder what I expect to find, well, no 
 treasure, certainly, that is, no money treasure, but per- 
 haps a bundle of faded love-letters, or some such relic of 
 a former occupant of this room, which would be real 
 treasure-trove for me. Aline laughs at me for a romantic 
 child, and says I shall never find anything, but still I 
 hope. 
 
 Aline's letter is from Pierce. As she reads it I watch 
 her face unobserved. It is lit up as though she were 
 reading a love-letter. The love between those two is 
 wonderful. We all understand, at least Esther and I 
 do, how it is that Aline can refuse so heartlessly, year 
 after year, that poor good Mr. Benson. Why, with her 
 immense love for Pierce, and the overflowing of it for 
 all us, unworthy, she has none left for a lover or a hus- 
 band. Not but that we are devoutly grateful for Aline's 
 celibacy, since she is happy in it, for what on earth would 
 we do without her? Of course, she would make an 
 exquisite parson's wife, beneficent without being med- 
 dling; but then she is more exquisite as our sister. 
 
 It is now five years since Pierce left us; he will be 
 twenty-seven the 3rd of next June. Freda was twenty- 
 five in February, and Aline has actually entered the 
 thirties. Pierce was a tall, slim, active fellow when he 
 went away, with Aline's golden hair and blue eyes, and 
 Aline's sudden radiant smile in a serious face. Those 
 two always rather held aloof from us, much as a very
 
 28 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 devoted husband and wife might hold aloof from their 
 grown-up children. 
 
 They used to walk together a good deal in the woods, 
 and when Pierce would go fishing Aline would accom- 
 pany him with her basket of mending or her book, and 
 sit by him through the long hours of the day, while we 
 young barbarians held our revels unchecked. 
 
 It must have been a great blow to Aline when Pierce 
 went so far away. She has always had an air of loneli- 
 ness since, as of one who has lost her mate. We have a 
 way of going in couples in our family. Aline and Pierce, 
 Esther and I, the twins of course, and those two dear 
 boys who are always together. I don't know where 
 Freda came in, but of course it mattered less, as she 
 married so young, and was so absorbed in her Jim. 
 
 Pierce's going came about through Mr. Desmond's 
 visiting the old country. Mr. Desmond is one of our 
 personalities, and we are immensely proud of him, 
 especially as he was born on Brandon estate. He is the 
 son of a small tenant-farmer, and came into the world, 
 one would say, with a very hard iron spoon in his mouth, 
 and the same spoon quite ignorant of even wholesome 
 stirabout. However, despite his humble origin, he has 
 become a great man, a pioneer in dark continents, a 
 letter-in of light on the hidden places of the earth. He 
 is very wealthy and powerful, yet he is very simple, and 
 as plain-living almost and plain-spoken as the peasants 
 he sprang from. All his people are long dead, and the 
 little house where he was born levelled to the ground;
 
 "THEY USED TO WALK TOGETHER A GOOD DEAL IN THE WOODS."
 
 WE BRANDONS. 29 
 
 so it must have been a lonely home-coming for him 
 when he arrived that May day now more than five years 
 ago, and, walking into the wretched little "Brandon 
 Arms", asked if he could have a bed and board for a few 
 days. 
 
 I believe the people round about would have made a 
 great fuss over him, if he had not quietly and shyly 
 slipped through their fingers. He made nothing like a 
 public appearance, but spent his time walking about by 
 himself revisiting the places he had known in childhood. 
 When he left, in about ten days after he had arrived, 
 the only tangible signs that he had ever come were 
 the magnificent cheques he sent the Rector and Father 
 O'Sullivan, to be used as they thought well among the 
 poor people. 
 
 But he carried off our Pierce. He had come upon him 
 fishing, and had sat and talked with him the length of an 
 afternoon, while the May-flies danced above the water, 
 and Pierce filled his basket with beautiful silver trout. 
 
 The next day Mr. Desmond called, and sent in his card 
 to Aline. The first we heard of him was that Aline had 
 invited him to lunch, which consisted of Pierce's trout, 
 cooked as only Oona knows how. He came two or three 
 times afterwards, and then we heard that Pierce was to 
 go to Africa with him. Pierce seemed fascinated by the 
 man. So indeed did Hugh and Donald, whose noses at 
 that time were not much more than above the table- 
 cloth, but their scent was as keen all the time for danger 
 and adventure as if they stood six feet in their stockings.
 
 30 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 Aline said to us over and over during those days that 
 it was a great thing for Pierce to have found such a 
 friend as Mr. Desmond, and that he couldn't always be 
 at home doing nothing, and that maybe he would be- 
 come a great man himself, and build up the Brandon 
 fortunes again; to all of which we gave a cheerful assent, 
 though the tears were big in Aline's eyes. We had great 
 food for speculation then about what would be the 
 extent of Pierce's fortune when he came home, and how 
 much it would take to put Brandon on its legs again. 
 
 However, all that proved quite futile. Mr. Desmond 
 and Pierce had been together only a couple of years 
 when, for some reason, they quarrelled and separated. 
 
 Meanwhile Aline has long worn that look of expecta- 
 tion, which means, we know, that she hopes any day may 
 bring Pierce, or news that he is coming. Every month 
 his room, the upper room of the octagon, is turned out, 
 and afterwards Aline herself puts it to rights, setting all 
 the things tidily just as Pierce left them, in the old 
 untidy fashion. His rod and fishing-tackle, his pipes, 
 his gun, his cricketing things, and all his old rubbish 
 she dusts and sets back in their places. If Pierce walked 
 in any day he would find the room ready for him. Every 
 night, long after I am in bed, I know that Aline's light 
 is burning, for our rooms communicate, and a long shaft 
 of gold comes in under the door after my candle has been 
 extinguished. I do not hear her moving about, and then 
 I know that she is praying for Pierce.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ANNAGASSAN RACES. 
 
 IT was the very month before Pierce left us, and 
 brilliant April weather, when we played that prank 
 which ended so disastrously for me, and the incidents of 
 which I can never recall without a blush. 
 
 I was a pickle in those days, and ripe for all sorts of 
 mischief, while Esther was then, as now, ever ready to 
 follow where I led. As for the boys did you ever know 
 boys who didn't like forbidden fruit? As they say here- 
 abouts, "Would a duck swim?" and the duck's attitude 
 towards her native element was precisely that of Hugh 
 and Donald towards any wild freak, whether suggested 
 by themselves or by those who ought to have known 
 better. 
 
 It was an exquisite day, more like June than April, 
 and Pierce and Aline had gone for one of their fishing 
 excursions together, taking a basket of luncheon with 
 them. 
 
 "You'll be good children," Aline had said to us, "and 
 not get into any mischief, and be in punctually for 
 luncheon, and not give Oona any trouble."
 
 32 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 We said we would be all she desired us; and she went 
 off with her look of placid contentment. We really 
 meant to behave very well, but we had not remembered 
 then that it was the greatest day of the year for the 
 whole country-side, the day of Annagassan Races. 
 
 Well, we remembered it soon enough too soon after 
 Aline had gone; and at first we had no wilder idea than 
 to ensconce ourselves in the ivy of the old abbey gable and 
 watch the country people walking and driving by. 
 
 "There'll be no one left in the village," said Donald; 
 " even the babies are going." 
 
 " Barney M'Gee will be left," said Hugh, " for he told me 
 yesterday he was took with the rheumatiz fearful. ' Yez 
 wouldn't be after wantin' the little mare an' the side-car,' 
 said he, 'for if yez would, yez'll be kindly welcome?'" 
 
 "I say," I cried out on the impulse of the moment, 
 "why shouldn't we take Barney's offer, and see the races?" 
 
 The boys stood up and jumped over the backs of their 
 chairs to express their enthusiastic approval of the 
 suggestion. Only Esther timidly asked what Aline 
 would say. 
 
 "Say!" I responded disingenuously. "Why, what 
 would she say ? She never said we weren't to go." 
 
 "Let us ask Oona to give us our lunch to take with 
 us," said one of the boys. 
 
 " If you do," said I, " Oona will smell a rat and spoil 
 everything. I have threepence, and we can buy some 
 gingerbread. Mind, the twins aren't to know, or they 
 will tell Oona."
 
 ANNAGASSAN RACES. 33 
 
 "Or they will make us take them. They're horrid 
 cheeky little things," said twelve-year-old Donald, " and 
 it would be ridiculous to be seen with a pair of kids like 
 them." 
 
 We got off without Oona suspecting us, and made for 
 the village. So far as sounds of humanity were concerned, 
 it was silent as the grave, the place being given over to 
 cocks and hens, and goats, and pigs, and cats, and ducks, 
 and turkeys, except that old Barney sat on his door-step 
 wearing an expectant look. 
 
 "I thought yez'd come to-day, bein' offered the con- 
 vayniance of the car an' horse. Sure young blood'll be 
 young blood, an' even the dogs is off to Annagassan Races. 
 Not so much as an intelligent baste for me to exchange a 
 word wid until the people comes troopin' home in the cool 
 of the evenin'." 
 
 The boys "yoked up" the old mare under Barney's 
 supervision. She was a very Rosinante of a steed, and 
 her harness, which must have been the first harness 
 made, was broken in many places, and tied together 
 with stout twine. The car was coated with years of 
 mud, which hung down in stalactites behind, and the old 
 cushions protruded their hair stuffing in every direction 
 through the rags and tatters that pretended to cover it. 
 However, Barney looked at it with such pride when it 
 stood ready for us that none of us had the heart to find 
 fault with the equipage. 
 
 Off we started, Donald driving, and with lurchings of 
 the old mare to this side and that, which sent the fowls 
 
 ( M 436 ) C
 
 34 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 flying in every direction, amid shrieks of indignation 
 from the hens. However, when once she had got clear 
 of the village, she settled down to a leisurely walk, which 
 seemed likely to get us to Annagassan about sunset. 
 When Donald tickled her with the whip she only flicked 
 her tail as at an intrusive fly. This made us laugh, and at 
 the sound of our laughter the old mare turned calmly on 
 to a green patch at the side of the road and settled to 
 make a hearty luncheon. 
 
 However, by dint of threats and coaxing we got her 
 to a better pace in time, and reached Annagassan just 
 after the second race had been run. We were all pretty 
 hot and dusty, for we had walked up every hill, and we 
 had assisted the mare over so many difficult places, that, 
 but for the grandeur of it, as the boys said, we might as 
 well have walked. 
 
 The boys had come off in their old homespuns for fear 
 of arousing Oona's suspicions, but Esther and I had 
 managed to creep out in our new pink ginghams, which 
 we weren't supposed to "wear for a month yet. I thought 
 Esther looked lovely, with the sparkle and glow in her 
 dusky face, and her eyes, brown as a trout stream, made 
 deeper in colour by contrast with her pink frock. Of 
 course she had only cotton gloves and a cheap little black 
 straw hat with pink roses in it, but I am sure she was far 
 prettier than any of the fine ladies who presently passed 
 us by with their cavaliers, on their way to see the horses 
 take the big jump. 
 
 I wasn't a bit pleased to see that some of the gentlemen
 
 ANNAGASSAN RACES. 35 
 
 looked at her as if they admired her very much. It vexed 
 me even more than the smiles of some of the ladies at our 
 equipage and ourselves. I felt rather the worse for the 
 wear by this time, though Esther seemed to be irreproach- 
 ably fresh; and the boys with their hair sticking out 
 through their tattered straw hats, and their muddy boots 
 and faded clothes, looked a pair of little scarecrows 
 indeed. 
 
 People passed us by with an amused smile whom we 
 should never have dreamt of admitting to Brandon in 
 the old days, nor indeed to-day for the matter of that. 
 There was that horrid Miss Pettigrew, the daughter of a 
 very disreputable attorney, who is said to have done a 
 good deal of dirty work for Sir Rupert De Lacy, and to 
 have made his money by very questionable means indeed. 
 Well, I saw this great flaunting peony of a creature look 
 at Esther's unconscious face with a toss of the head, and 
 an impudent, jeering smile, which made me furious for a 
 moment, till I remembered that she was only Pettigrew's 
 daughter, and could know no better. She took occasion 
 to pass very near to us, flaunting her silks like any 
 peacock, so near that we had to stand back a little to let 
 her pass. There was a gentleman with her, and for a 
 moment I included him in my glance of haughty indig- 
 nation. But only for a moment. 
 
 He was quite young, and his face had a very bright 
 expression, but just then he looked grave, almost angry, 
 I thought, and it occurred to me that what Miss Pettigrew 
 had whispered to him disgusted him not a little. Any-
 
 36 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 how, as he passed quite close to us, he lifted his hat 
 gravely, and I caught a glimpse of bright brown hair, 
 rippled all over, despite its close cutting. Then they were 
 gone. 
 
 I turned round, to find Mag Byrne, the beggar-woman, 
 and one of the characters of the country, at my elbow. 
 Mag had seen the little drama, and now spat out ex- 
 pressively. 
 
 " To think of the likes of her rubbin' her dirty skirts 
 against rale quality like yourselves, Miss Hilda dear! 
 Why, I remember her father thankful to get a plateful 
 of mate at the kitchen door of your own house, my dear, 
 that's a shoneen now, an' his daughter trapesin' about 
 wid the officers from the barracks." 
 
 I laughed at Mag's indignation, and my own somehow 
 disappeared. So Miss Pettigrew's escort was one of the 
 officers from the barracks. Well, he looked a gentleman, 
 at all events, however he came to be in such strange 
 company. 
 
 All the fine folk were in the carriage enclosure, or on 
 the grand stand. We were out on the hill among the 
 farmers' carts and the dancing tents and Aunt Sallies; 
 and Esther and I enjoyed the humour of it all greatly. 
 Quite early in the day the boys had gone off to amuse 
 themselves, but as they came back frequently to share 
 their raptures with us, we were not anxious. Fortunately 
 for them, the place was full of their friends, people who 
 had lived on Brandon land for more generations than 
 they or we could count, and to whom it was untold pride
 
 ANNAGASSAN RACES. 37 
 
 and joy to " trate" the young gentlemen to all the fun of 
 the fair. I offered them some of the threepenny- worth 
 of gingerbread, but my offer was received with scorn. 
 They had been royally banqueted on ham and chicken 
 and ginger- beer and rhubarb -tart, and had seen the 
 bearded lady and the giant and the dwarf, and were 
 inclined to be rather contemptuous of us. 
 
 We ourselves were not a bit sorry when Mrs. O'Sullivan, 
 Oona's cousin, came over to us and implored us humbly 
 to share her home-made bread-and-butter, and the little 
 pot of tea she had made by the aid of a spirit-lamp. We 
 were very hungry by this time, and we were not proud 
 with our own people. I am quite sure that the chicken 
 and the champagne on the drags in the enclosure wasn't 
 half so much enjoyed as was our repast out of Mrs. 
 O'Sullivan's basket. 
 
 The people about us vied with each other in being kind 
 and courteous to us. Indeed they were quite congratu- 
 latory to Annagassan Races for being honoured by our 
 presence, though they abstained from looking at Barney's 
 car and mare, while they detailed reminiscences of our 
 grandfather's appearance, driving a coach and six, at these 
 same races. 
 
 If there had only been our own dear good people, I 
 could have enjoyed the races as heartily as the boys did, 
 but somehow, as the afternoon went on and the bevies of 
 fine folk passed and repassed us, I grew vexed and dis- 
 quieted. It was not the supercilious glances of the ladies 
 so much as the behaviour of some of the gentlemen. As
 
 38 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 they passed they stared hard at us; and presently they 
 would come back alone, or accompanied by other gentle- 
 men, and walk past slowly, or stand at a little distance 
 looking at us. 
 
 That was the worst, I said to myself crossly, of having 
 a beauty sister, for of course they could not want to look 
 at me. Esther had forgotten her misgivings, and was 
 enjoying the day as thoroughly as the two boys. She had 
 the air of rapture which very small joys have the power 
 of awakening in her, and as she sat there radiant and 
 smiling, with her red lips parted over her little white 
 teeth, and her eyes shining, I couldn't wonder at people 
 liking to look at her. 
 
 In other circumstances I should have enjoyed her 
 enjoyment myself. But I had been gradually remember- 
 ing that I was the really responsible person in this mad 
 freak, that I was seventeen and ought to have known 
 better, that Aline would have been so vexed if she could 
 have seen these men, and so on. Conscience was pricking 
 me so that at last, out of discomfort, I grew cross with 
 Esther, and said to her viciously: 
 
 " Don't look so ridiculously happy. You are for all the 
 world like Juliet in the play, and you are making those 
 people stare at us." 
 
 Then I was quite sorry, for her dear face fell and her 
 eyes clouded over. 
 
 "There, there!" I said repentantly. "I didn't want to 
 frighten you;" at which her face slowly brightened 
 again. "After all, since we are here, there's no reason
 
 ANNAGASSAN RACES. 39 
 
 why you shouldn't get all the enjoyment you can out 
 of it- 
 Soon afterwards I had forgotten the disagreeable 
 things myself in excitement over the great race of the 
 day. The race lay between an English horse and a little 
 mare called Brandon Biddy, that came of stock from 
 my grandfather's stables, so that my excitement was at 
 once a family affair and an affair of patriotism. Some 
 one on the hill had brought us a little glass, so that I was 
 able to watch the mare's green and white, as the horses 
 and their jockeys spread themselves over the course like 
 a many-coloured ribbon. The mare won by a length, and 
 all at once I forgot myself and shouted as wildly as any- 
 one there, though, as everyone was shouting, it wasn't 
 likely that I should be noticed. 
 
 However, when I discovered what I had been betrayed 
 into doing, I felt myself turning crimson. I shut up the 
 race-glasses sharply and took a furtive look round to see 
 if anyone had observed me. The crowd on the hill-side 
 was laughing and cheering and shaking hands all round; 
 and some men were even flinging their hats in the air 
 again and again in the exuberance of their delight. I 
 was sure I had not been noticed, and I was able to turn 
 to Esther and answer her " Oh, Hilda, isn't it splendid?" 
 with a cheerful affirmative. 
 
 But just then I saw, standing quite near us, the gentle- 
 man who had been with Miss Pettigrew earlier in the 
 day. His face was full of amusement, and it flashed 
 upon me in a minute that he had been watching my
 
 40 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 ridiculous capers. I was furious, and looked so, I suppose, 
 for his amused look gave way to one of such gentleness 
 and deprecation, that I felt my anger quite giving way. 
 Though I was sure that I should never cease to blush 
 for having appeared so ridiculous. 
 
 However, just then the boys came up. 
 
 " They're saddling for the last race," cried Hugh, " and 
 we'd better be making our way out of this crush, or we 
 won't get home till midnight with the old mare. We'll 
 see the last race just as well from the Upper Road." 
 
 We agreed, and I was delighted with the boy's fore- 
 sight, for I didn't want to be coming through the gap 
 side by side with all the carriages and drags. So we 
 turned our Rosinante around, and came down from the 
 hill and across a field, and through the gap, where half 
 an hour later there would be such a tremendous struggle 
 for precedence. 
 
 The mare was eager for her stable and trotted briskly 
 enough over the grass fields to the road. We halted to 
 see the last race run, and then we turned from the Upper 
 Road into a quiet by - road which would take us to 
 Brandon village by a slight detour. By taking it we 
 should escape the crowd, and as we turned off the high- 
 road and caught in the distance already the shouting and 
 tumult that showed the people were trying to get first 
 through the gap, I heaved a deep sigh of relief. Then I 
 turned to the others with a smile. 
 
 " Well," said I, " we've had a delightful day and no 
 harm done. All's well that ends well!"
 
 ANNAGASSAN RACES. 41 
 
 But just at that moment there came from the Upper 
 Road a blast of a horn, followed by the clatter of hoofs. 
 Barney's mare started and flung herself almost back on 
 us; then she was off like the wind. Barney had always 
 said that she had a touch of the racer. Perhaps the 
 events of the day had wakened it in her. Anyhow the 
 noise of the drags was too much for her, and she was off. 
 
 T
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 I PAY THE RECKONING. 
 
 I JUST remember the boys shouting at us to hold on 
 and sit steady. We didn't require that instruction, 
 for every country-bred girl knows that the only thing 
 to do when a horse bolts, is to keep quiet and do nothing. 
 I gripped my side of the car and watched Hugh, who 
 was driving beside me, fling himself half-way across the 
 car in his effort to keep a tight grip of the reins. The 
 wretched car was swinging from side to side, and I 
 caught a glimpse of Esther, rather pale, holding on 
 quietly to her side as I was doing to mine. 
 
 I wondered at the calm of my own mind. "If we 
 meet nothing," said I, "and the harness holds, we are 
 safe enough, for it won't take long to tire her out." On 
 the other hand, if the harness did not hold, or we met 
 anything coming in the opposite direction, some of us 
 would get hurt. I watched the flying hedges as the car 
 flung us high and low, with an absolute calm that looked 
 neither before nor after. I hope God always sends such 
 courage when one really needs it. So the mad flight 
 went on in absolute silence as far as we were concerned. 
 
 But of course the wretched harness could not stand
 
 MY POOR LITTLE GIRL, I AM AFRAID YOU ARE HURT!"
 
 I PAY THE RECKONING. 43 
 
 the strain. Hugh suddenly fell back towards us with a 
 broken rein in his hand. The mare gave a tremendous 
 leap to one side. There was a heap of stones on the side 
 of the road, obligingly left there for our misfortune by 
 Mullaly, the road contractor. In a moment she had 
 kicked herself free of her harness and was off again, but 
 I saw nothing of this, for I was lying at the bottom of a 
 deep ditch, with my foot turned under me, and I don't 
 know how many newts and young frogs walking about 
 my pink frock. 
 
 I am not the fainting sort, but the fall stunned me. 
 When I came to myself I had my head on somebody's 
 shoulder. I looked up into the face bending over me, 
 and saw a pair of gray eyes full of honest concern for 
 me. It was the young man who had been Miss Petti- 
 grew's escort. He was bathing my face with a silk 
 handkerchief dipped in water someone had brought. I 
 looked at him for a minute and tried to sit upright, but 
 I only succeeded in uttering a sharp cry. 
 
 " My poor little girl," he said with pitying tenderness, 
 " I am afraid you are hurt. Where is it?" 
 
 " My foot," I gasped; and I felt that I was half-fainting 
 again with pain. 
 
 " Keep quiet. It is probably sprained," he said quickly. 
 " Let me look at it." 
 
 I heard him call to someone for a coat, which he 
 arranged under my head. Then I remembered. 
 
 "Are the others all right?" I cried. 
 
 "Here they are to answer for themselves," he said;
 
 44 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 and then I saw that the boys and Esther were standing 
 by, with very frightened faces, all plastered with mud 
 and dirt, but evidently none the worse for the accident. 
 
 " We are all right, darling," said Esther, who was cry- 
 ing, " only alarmed about you." 
 
 " I am going to hurt you, my poor little girl," said the 
 strange young man, " but you must be brave, and I will 
 make you easier for the journey home." 
 
 I felt him cutting away my shoe and stocking. It 
 was agony every bit of it, but I endured it, only saying 
 my prayers, as I had seen the peasants do when they 
 suffered. Then I felt him binding my ankle about with 
 something cold and wet, that seemed to relieve me a 
 little; when he had finished, he bent over me again, and 
 I smiled faintly at him. 
 
 " You are very good to me," I managed to say. 
 
 "Good to you!" he echoed. "I wish I could save you 
 the horrible suffering I know it is. I hope it is no worse 
 than a bad sprain, but a doctor must see it immediately 
 you get home. But how to get you home, that is the 
 question?" 
 
 " I'll run to the cross-roads," volunteered Donald, " and 
 bring Larry Brady's ass and cart. The ass will travel as 
 slow as you like, and she can lie full-length in the cart." 
 
 " Right, my boy ! If they can send a feather-bed and 
 pillow, so much the better." 
 
 Donald was off like a shot. 
 
 "I hope you have not far to take her," he said, 
 turning to Esther.
 
 I PAY THE RECKONING. 45 
 
 I saw she was about to tell him, and I darted a warn- 
 ing glance at her which she understood. 
 
 " Not very far," she said, haltingly. 
 
 " To Brandon village," he asked, " or one of the farm- 
 houses yonder? I don't think this road leads anywhere 
 else, except to Brandon itself." 
 
 Now I was vexed at his taking us for peasants or 
 farmers' daughters, though I didn't want him to know 
 we were Brandons. So I took the words out of Esther's 
 mouth. 
 
 "Yes, to Brandon village," I said, which was true 
 enough, for we had to pass through the village, and 
 some of us would have to explain to Barney the accident 
 to his property. That was worrying me too, for we 
 could ill afford to make up the damage. 
 
 I closed my eyes after that and said nothing, for the 
 throbbing pain in my ankle made me feel exhausted. 
 Through my closed eyelids I could feel the pity in the 
 kind strange eyes that were watching me. He was so 
 kind that I felt I could forgive him not only for not 
 recognizing us at once as Brandons which I should 
 have hated him to do but for having walked with that 
 Pettigrew creature. Evidently she had not told him who 
 we were. Whatever her jibe had been, it had not told 
 him that we were Brandons, the proudest and most 
 impoverished race within the four seas of Ireland. 
 
 My thoughts went from one thing to another, and 
 presently grew hazy and dull with continued pain. 
 Then I became aware that the ass-cart had arrived,
 
 46 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 with Mrs. Brady as well, full of lamentations and 
 wirrasthrues. I was very much afraid she would give us 
 away to the stranger, but he was so engaged looking 
 after my comfort that I don't think he heard a word 
 she said. It was he who lifted me into the little cart, so 
 gently that my ankle scarcely hurt. As he lifted me, I 
 saw his fine bay horse fastened to a gate. He must 
 have been riding from the races and witnessed our 
 mishap from the Upper Road. 
 
 He laid me down gently on the soft feather-bed. A.s 
 he bent low to do it, his face almost touched mine. 
 "Good, brave little girl!" he whispered. Then he turned 
 to the others. 
 
 " Who is going to lead the ass?" he asked. 
 
 " I," said Hugh. " I," said Donald. 
 
 " You had better lead, being the oldest and wisest," he 
 said to Hugh, with a smile; "and take care you do not 
 jog her. Fortunately the road seems pretty level." 
 
 He lifted his hat, and I thought I detected a wistful 
 look in his eyes. I am sure he wanted to know who we 
 were, and to ask if he might hear how I progressed, but 
 nobody said anything. He stood watching us as we 
 moved off slowly, and when we had gone quite a long 
 way, before the road turned, Hugh looked back, and 
 said: 
 
 " Your friend is watching us still, Hilda." And then 
 added in his emphatic way, "I call that no end of a 
 good fellow!" 
 
 I said nothing. I was thinking dreamily that the
 
 I PAY THE RECKONING. 47 
 
 stranger had never once looked at Esther, always at me. 
 I wondered who he might be. Anyhow we were never 
 likely to see or hear of him again. We never went out 
 anywhere we were likely to meet him, and if he was, as 
 Mag Byrne had suggested, an officer from the barracks, 
 he would presently leave with his regiment and go out 
 into the wide world, where even friends find it so hard 
 to meet. 
 
 But here we were at last at Brandon hall-door, and 
 Aline was running down the steps. Esther had gone on 
 before to explain things to her. I saw that Aline looked 
 very much disturbed, but when her eyes met mine they 
 held nothing but love and pity. 
 
 Well, they sent for old Dr. Devine, who came and 
 examined my sprain. He was very grave about it, for 
 it was no sprain at all, but a compound fracture. After 
 that I was ill for a long time, enduring such pain and 
 fever with my hurt for there were complications that 
 it wore me to skin and bone. Then Aline sent for a 
 Dublin specialist, for Dr. Devine was very old, and not 
 altogether to be trusted. Indeed, the Dublin doctor 
 found things so bad that a bone had to be broken again 
 and re-set. However, after months of it I was carried 
 downstairs, hollow-eyed, and the ghost of my old self. 
 But I had plenty of cause for gratitude, for I had very 
 narrowly escaped being a permanent invalid, though, 
 when I could walk about, I was a little lame, as the 
 Dublin doctor had feared I should be for a long time, 
 and I have never been quite my old strong self again.
 
 48 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 However, they have all been so good to me, that even 
 in my misfortune there is sweetness. It was quite a 
 novelty in our strong family to have someone to wait 
 on, and I believe the boys and the twins were delighted 
 beyond telling in carrying my footstool or fetching a 
 shawl or pillow for me, or, when I went with them on 
 their expeditions, carrying a little bundle of rugs and 
 wraps with which I should be made comfortable when 
 we sat down to picnic among the harebells, or in a sunny 
 hay-field sloping to the river. 
 
 I think it was a comfort to Aline to have me to dis- 
 tract her mind when Pierce went away. Once, after a 
 long time, I said to her that I was sorry for the escapade 
 which had ended so disastrously. 
 
 "Poor little Hilda!" she said. " You have had to pay 
 heavily for a bit of childish folly;" and she stroked my 
 hair in her exquisite way. 
 
 Yet I think that if all had ended well that day Aline 
 would have been very angry with us, for she is so proud ; 
 and lying quietly so long, I seemed to have grown up 
 suddenly, so that I understood how she might wince 
 under the incidents that had seemed glorious fun to us 
 younger ones. 
 
 As she sat beside me another day, feeding me with 
 little bits of a peach, I asked her a question which had 
 been in my mind. 
 
 "Aline," I said, "where does all this come from the 
 peaches and grapes, and game and wine? And how did 
 you pay for the Dublin doctor for me?"
 
 I PAY THE RECKONING. 49 
 
 She benfc down and kissed me again. 
 
 " I sold the collet," she said quietly. 
 
 "Sir Rupert's collet!" I almost shrieked. " But it was 
 your own the one beautiful thing you had! Grand- 
 mother left it to you herself." 
 
 " I had so much more right to part with it," she said, 
 looking at the fruit she was peeling, not at me. 
 
 "Why didn't you sell some of the other jewels?" I 
 asked, almost indignantly. 
 
 "Family jewels, dear, which must remain Brandon 
 property. They are for Pierce's wife some day. Besides, 
 I didn't care for the collet. That man's gift couldn't be 
 of good omen." 
 
 After that I said nothing more, though I cried with 
 sheer love and gratitude, when Aline had left me, to 
 think I had such a sister. 
 
 During my illness I had often thought of the gentle- 
 man who had been so kind to me that day. When I 
 was at last out-of-doors and able to sit in the rose-garden 
 near Aline, I asked Hugh, who was sitting by me mend- 
 ing his fishing-tackle: 
 
 "Do you know, Hugh, what regiment is quartered in 
 Annagassan Barracks just now?" 
 
 "No. What do you want to know for?" looking up 
 at me in amazement. " You don't know anyone there." 
 
 " Well, I think the gentleman who was so kind the day 
 I got hurt was probably an officer there." 
 
 "Oh, is that it? Well, if he was, he's gone, for there 
 is a new regiment just come in. The other's gone to 
 
 (M436) D
 
 50 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 India. Say, Hilda, weren't we duffers not to have asked 
 him to call ? I thought it was pretty queer of us, but it 
 wasn't my place, you know." 
 
 " We were rather duffers," said L 
 
 "I expect he'd have been glad. He looked a right 
 good sort, and a gentleman. I could have put him up to 
 a lot of things, and Donald and I want some male friends. 
 Of course you girls are all right, but a man wants men," 
 said Hugh, wisely. 
 
 "Well," said I with a little sigh, "it's no use talking 
 now. I don't suppose he'll ever come back again." 
 
 " I should jolly well think not. I wish I had his chance. 
 Why didn't old Desmond take a fancy to me instead of 
 to Pierce?" 
 
 " Maybe he will," said I consolingly. " Some day when 
 he has established Pierce he will send for you." 
 
 Somehow after that, when I began to write stories out 
 of my head, the hero always was brown-faced and gray- 
 eyed. He had always a ripple of close-cut brown hair, 
 and a humorous mouth, and such a kind expression, when 
 anyone was in trouble. He must have grown rather 
 monotonous to Esther, my only audience, who will listen 
 entranced for hours while I read my effusions. 
 
 She is a most inspiriting audience. She reads her own 
 romance into everything, and to see her flushed cheeks 
 and wet, eager eyes she might be listening to Romeo 
 and Juliet rather than to my poor little tales. It is the 
 worst of Esther, that she has so little discrimination. 
 Give her a love-story, and she doesn't mind whether the
 
 I PAY THE RECKONING. 51 
 
 scene is Kerry or Mantua, the writer Hilda Brandon or 
 William Shakespeare. "Oh, it is lovely!" she cries all 
 the same, and thirsting for more. If Esther ever falls in 
 love may I be there to see! 
 
 Still she found out my hero. 
 
 "Why, Hilda," she said one day, "Geoffrey Stratford 
 is exactly like the young officer who helped you after 
 Annagassan Races; and so was Hilton Beresford and 
 Jack Vandaleur, and ever so many more." 
 
 "You think so?" with exaggerated surprise. "You 
 must only fancy it, for if there is anything I pride my- 
 self on it is the originality of my characters; and I am 
 sure those three you mention are not a bit alike." 
 
 "Perhaps not," she said with a little puzzled line be- 
 tween her brows. " Yet I thought they all looked alike. 
 He was quite nice enough for a hero anyway. You re- 
 member him, Hilda?" 
 
 " Yes," said I disingenuously ; " but you don't remember 
 very clearly things that happened when you were in such 
 suffering, you know." 
 
 " Of course not, you poor darling! I don't suppose you 
 really saw him a bit. Still your heroes are very like him." 
 
 After this I tried a course of fair heroes, but somehow 
 I didn't succeed with them so well. That is the worst 
 of having such limited experience as we have. I can't 
 get my own brothers to stand for their portraits, and out- 
 side them I know only Dr. Devine and Mr. Benson, and 
 the people in the village, and none of those are at all 
 heroic.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 FREDA. 
 
 ALINE always said that it was providential that Freda 
 should have married, and married a rich man. She 
 told Freda so herself one day, I remember, for I was in 
 the room, but Freda only put out her red mouth, and 
 said that she couldn't see things in that light at all, that 
 she could have endured poverty with the best of us, and 
 as for Jim's being a rich man, well, she would have 
 married him if he hadn't had a sole to his boot, or a rag 
 to his back. Poor, dear, dear old Jim, it was as hard 
 to imagine him shabby, as it is now to imagine Freda 
 back again in our ramshackle life. He was always so 
 fresh and trim, with such immaculate linen, and clothes 
 that even we rustics felt were a marvel of the tailor's art. 
 What a dear, jolly, open-handed fellow he was! and how 
 little any of us could have believed that he would only 
 live two years, and leave Freda a young widow at twenty. 
 But, after all, as Esther says, Freda was perfectly happy 
 for two years, and that is not given to many people. 
 And then, too, she has her little son, who is such a dear 
 little boy, or was when we saw him two years old, 
 that no mother could be very unhappy possessing him.
 
 FREDA. 53 
 
 Jim had been visiting old Mrs. Doyne at the Valley 
 House when he and Freda saw each other and fell in love 
 at first sight; and that, says Esther, is the only possible 
 love. I remember Freda that summer. She used to 
 wear a green muslin that had once belonged to our grand- 
 mother, and she looked lovely in it. She was wearing it 
 the very first day she ever saw Jim. 
 
 Mrs. Doyne was an old friend of mother's, and while 
 she lived we used to go a good deal to the Valley House. 
 Her only son Alick was in India, and she was very lonely, 
 and liked to have us about her. I think she hoped that 
 Alick would come home, and that he and Freda would 
 make a match of it, for Freda was her favourite. 
 
 We hadn't the least idea that she had a visitor that 
 June afternoon when Freda and I set out to have tea with 
 Mrs. Doyne, I looking forward agreeably to the straw- 
 berries and cream and the tea-cakes, and the delicious 
 rich tea in the faded sweet-smelling drawing-room at the 
 Valley House. 
 
 Freda could never bear to be shabby like the rest of 
 us, and I remember that when I came out of the house 
 and found her waiting for me on the lawn in the sun, I 
 thought she looked as fine as heart could desire. She 
 was wearing her sailor hat, and had tucked a large bunch 
 of dark Camille de Rohan roses into her belt; and the 
 green frock, with her pale face and red lips, and all her 
 little golden rings of hair like a baby's, was charming. 
 I was rather down at heel, and my dress was crumpled, 
 and I swung my hat by the string as I walked. I dare
 
 54 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 say I made a most effective contrast to Freda, who was 
 so spick and span and fresh and cool, though it was very 
 hot weather. 
 
 Well, we sat blinking like cats in the big shady draw- 
 ing-room after the brilliant sun outside, and then dear 
 old Mrs. Doyne came in and kissed us, and, having made 
 us sit near her, kept stroking Freda's hand absently, as 
 she had a way of doing. 
 
 She had asked after everybody, and had rung the bell 
 for tea before she came to what was quite an exciting 
 piece of news for our corner of the world. 
 
 " I have a young gentleman staying with me, my dears, 
 a friend of Alick's, and such a nice lad." 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Doyne," said I, " but isn't he a bother, and 
 how do you manage to keep him amused?" 
 
 " Well, you see, my dear, the poor young fellow's not 
 very strong. He's home on sick leave, and he promised 
 Alick he wouldn't return without bringing him news of 
 his old mother. And so when he was kind enough to come 
 all this long way to keep his word with my Alick, and 
 seemed to find the country so beautiful, and the summer 
 here so mild and sweet, I could do no less than ask him 
 to stay could I, Hilda, my dear? And would you 
 believe it? he seemed quite pleased to be asked." 
 
 " And why shouldn't he be?" I said. " It's easy enough 
 to be happy in this house. Only I was thinking of an 
 ordinary man. Sons and brothers are different, of course; 
 but one always thinks a man must be wanting to do some- 
 thing. Of course if he's ill it makes all the difference."
 
 FREDA. 55 
 
 " He's scarcely ill now," said Mrs. Doyne. " He says 
 he finds the air here wonderfully curative. And I assure 
 you Susan and I enjoy cosseting him. It's almost like 
 having Alick to pet again; though, of course, Alick, dear 
 fellow, was never ill, and no subject for our port- wine 
 jellies, and beaten-up eggs which Mr. Hazeldine seems to 
 enjoy so much." 
 
 "What does he do all day?" asked Freda. 
 
 " Oh, he's not at all troublesome, my dear. He likes 
 to lie in the sun, with his cap over his eyes, and soak in 
 the air, as he says. Or he reads and talks to me when I 
 am ready for him, or knocks the billiard balls about, or 
 takes long walks with Rory. Poor Rory hasn't had such 
 good times since his master went away. Oh, by the way, 
 I thought of making a little picnic and asking you young 
 people. Just ourselves, you know, to Inver Waterfall. 
 I could have the barouche out for any one who didn't 
 care to walk, and the donkey-cart could take over the 
 hampers." 
 
 Of course we were rejoiced, and said so. Just then 
 the door opened, and Mrs. Doyne's visitor came in. He 
 evidently had expected to find no one but her, and at 
 first I think he could hardly make us out in the dark 
 room, though Freda's gown made a radiance in her corner, 
 as if the sun were looking in through green leaves. 
 
 I thought him pleasant -looking at the first glance. 
 He would naturally be bronzed, and a little brown was 
 already stealing over the pallor of recent illness. He 
 was freckled, and smiled pleasantly, showing a row of
 
 56 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 white teeth, as he was introduced to us. Then he went 
 over to Freda's corner and sat down beside her, and in a 
 few minutes they were talking quite like old friends. 
 I watched them while I drank my tea. He was leaning 
 forward looking at Freda as he talked. She listened 
 with a slightly averted head, as was her way, and her 
 quietly dreamy smile. 
 
 Afterwards he went out into the garden, and Mrs. Doyne 
 and I walked together while the other two somehow fell 
 behind. The dear old lady talked on about her roses and 
 her pet doves, and her dairy, and her dear Alick, while 
 she was filling a little basket with strawberries for us to 
 take to Aline. After a while we found a shady seat 
 and sat down. 
 
 " Did it strike you, my dear," asked the old lady sud- 
 denly, "that Mr. Hazeldine seemed quite taken with 
 your sister?" 
 
 "I should be surprised if he weren't," said I. "Do 
 you know, Mrs. Doyne, I admire Freda so much? I 
 think in that green frock she is exactly like a lily of the 
 valley don't you?" 
 
 " It is very pretty of you to think so, dear Hilda, and 
 she is indeed very fair and sweet." 
 
 She sighed a little, and I guessed it was with a faint 
 fear that her Alick might be too late to appreciate that 
 sweetness. 
 
 " He seems a good lad," she went on, " and my boy 
 thinks a great deal of him. He has made a very fine 
 position for himself for so young a man, and his father,
 
 FREDA. 57 
 
 Sir John Hazeldine, is a very rich man, a London banker, 
 my dear, though of course he has other sons than this 
 one." 
 
 Now this didn't interest me much, for I couldn't look 
 as far ahead as Mrs. Doyne. Any one with eyes in his 
 head must admire Freda, but admiration and love are 
 different things. And I didn't care a bit about Mr. Hazel- 
 dine's prospects. I was such a goose in those days that 
 I believe the fact of poor Jim's prospects being so rosy 
 rather diminished my interest in a possible romance. 
 
 " That's pleasant for him," said I, standing up and 
 opening my ragged parasol. " But now, dear Mrs. Doyne, 
 I think we must find Freda, and be thinking of getting 
 home." 
 
 We found the pair calmly strolling up and down the 
 avenue of chestnuts by the trout-stream, which we used 
 to call the Lovers' Walk, and I thought Mr. Hazeldine 
 looked as if we had come too soon. 
 
 Well, the picnic occurred a day or two later, and after 
 that Mr. Hazeldine seemed to be always coming over to 
 us, or a party of us going to the Valley House for tennis, 
 or a gipsy tea, or something or other. But from the 
 beginning there was never any doubt about Mr. Hazel- 
 dine and Freda. 
 
 He didn't pretend to think of anybody but her. In- 
 deed his adoration was so embarrassing that we were 
 always glad when, after a few minutes, they would go 
 mooning off down the sycamore alleys, or round the pond 
 at the garden-foot, and relieve us of their presence. It
 
 58 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 made the boys very contemptuous of poor Jim. Hugh 
 used to say that if he thought he could ever look like 
 that he'd hang himself; and as for Donald, his scorn for 
 the man who could prefer the company of a girl to a 
 man's company by which, I suppose, he meant his own 
 was something too crushing. 
 
 Freda looked lovely in those days, paler even than 
 usual, but somehow as if there were a light burning 
 inside the whiteness. 
 
 I think it was really only about four weeks from that 
 day Freda and I went to the Valley House that Jim 
 spoke, but we thought it very long. It was the first love 
 affair we had had in the family, and it embarrassed us 
 all. 
 
 I'm sure Aline and Pierce did their best to be very 
 business-like when Jim broke in on them one day and 
 announced that Freda had accepted him, and he wanted 
 to be married before the summer was over. But there 
 was no real difficulty in the way. Mrs. Doyne knew all 
 about Jim, and after he had gone over to England to see 
 his father and mother and tell them about Freda, they 
 wrote saying how sorry they were not to be able to take 
 the long journey to see their son married, but that they 
 looked forward to seeing Freda afterwards, which seemed 
 very satisfactory, though the letters read rather stiltedly. 
 That might be, however, because they were English people. 
 I had a kind of idea at the time that Lady Hazeldine 
 resented her favourite boy being married by a wild 
 Irishwoman. However, that may have been fancy, but
 
 FREDA. 59 
 
 we thought it a little odd that none of them came to the 
 wedding. 
 
 Jim came back from London that time simply laden 
 with the most beautiful gifts, not only for Freda but for 
 the smallest child in the house, and for Oona, and the 
 little maids, and some of the poor people about, whose 
 acquaintance he had made. 
 
 We all agreed that Jim and Freda were well matched, 
 for she was always good at giving, though her few pretty 
 things were dear to her. 
 
 We received Jim's gifts rapturously, but he would say 
 laughing : 
 
 " Don't thank me. Wait till you see the pretty things 
 I'll send you from India, when I have Freda to help me 
 choose them." 
 
 And Freda looked on at his giving and his promises 
 with a grave delight, as if he were fulfilling wishes of 
 hers which had long been denied. It was really such a 
 wonderful thing to have money going round in the 
 family at last. 
 
 Dear old Mrs. Doyne gave Freda her trousseau. It 
 was so dear of her, for we all felt that the marriage 
 destroyed her long-cherished hopes. However, it was 
 fortunate that Freda didn't wait for Alick, for he married 
 the following year, and not long after that our dear old 
 friend died, so that Alick will hardly ever again come to 
 the Valley House. 
 
 Well, Jim and Freda were married one beautiful Sep- 
 tember morning, and Esther and I were bridesmaids, so
 
 60 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 fine in some beautiful gauzy silk stuff which Jim had 
 brought us from London. We were all rather miserable, 
 for Freda was going away so far, and she cried a few 
 tears herself too, though she couldn't help looking as if 
 she were in a seventh heaven all the time. 
 
 But, as Aline said, it was happiness to know that Freda 
 was safe from the poverty and the fear of having to 
 leave Brandon, which is the lot of the rest of us. I 
 know that Aline's heart is troubled for all her chickens, 
 and in addition to the comfort of feeling that one was 
 safe, I think she had a little hope that Freda, if she was 
 going to be rich, would help with the boys and the twins, 
 for how they are to get their schooling, much less be 
 provided for later, Heaven knows. 
 
 I remember the last thing I whispered to Freda was: 
 
 " Be sure and tell me if they have gold plate every 
 day at the Hazeldines' " for Esther and I had been 
 romancing about the wealth of Jim's people. 
 
 And she laughed, though her eyes were full of tears, 
 and said she would be quite sure to tell me. 
 
 But she never did, though she wrote long letters to us 
 all, and kept sending us all kinds of useful and beautiful 
 things. She said very little indeed about Sir John and 
 Lady Hazeldine, but we thought it was because she was 
 so very full of Jim, for her letters were nothing but Jim, 
 Jim, Jim, and how good he was to her, and what a happy 
 woman she was. And so it was after they went to India. 
 
 Then the little boy was born, and we were so excited 
 about him, at least we girls were, for boys can't be ex-
 
 FREDA. 61 
 
 pected to care about babies; and Freda sent us a picture 
 of him when he was eight months old, with his Indian 
 nurse, and we thought he was the quaintest and sweetest 
 little thing we had ever seen. 
 
 Alas! poor Freda! that all her palaces should have 
 crumbled into dust. Poor Jim took a chill after playing 
 a fast game of tennis one day, and died almost with- 
 out warning. I don't like even to think of it, I who 
 had seen the two meet, and the summer of their love 
 begin. 
 
 When Freda came to see us a year or so later, soon 
 after her return from India, she was not the same Freda. 
 Such wide, sorrowful eyes, in a face the soft roundness 
 of which had given way to piteous hollows and angles. 
 We young ones were not much with her. We used to 
 go away out of her hearing with the little boy, and have 
 rare games, for in spite of his black clothes he was as 
 full of fun as a kitten. Freda used to sit with Aline in 
 her little room, silent for the most part; but one day I 
 was sitting in the window-seat reading, when Freda 
 broke silence suddenly. 
 
 " I have been with you long enough, Aline. It is time 
 for us to be going, Jacky and I. You have been good to 
 keep us so long." 
 
 " Oh, my dear," said Aline, rather shocked ; " where 
 would you be welcome, if not in your own home? I 
 suppose you cannot stay with us altogether, as we would 
 all have wished? It is not likely you would be con- 
 tent?"
 
 62 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 "Oh, no," said Freda, with a curious, unmirthful 
 laugh, "it is not at all likely I should be content!" 
 
 Aline looked hurt a little, but I thought Freda could 
 not mean to be so unkind as the words seemed. However, 
 I said nothing; probably they had forgotten my presence. 
 After a minute or two, Aline said: 
 
 " Of course, Sir John and Lady Hazeldine will want 
 you to be with them at least at first?" 
 
 " I'm not going to the Hazeldines'," Freda said, shortly. 
 
 "And what are your plans, then, dear?" 
 
 " Mrs. Vincent, who was so good to my Jim, is coming 
 home from India. She wants me to live with her. Her 
 husband is dead, and she is sadder even than I am, for 
 she has no child." 
 
 "That will be a nice arrangement," said Aline; and I, 
 who know all her ways, heard a ring of disappointment 
 in her voice. I think she felt that Freda was going to 
 make for herself a life in which we had no part. 
 
 " You will set up a sweet little house together, with a 
 garden perhaps," she said after a minute or two, " and a 
 couple of little maids, and perhaps a tiny carriage ? You 
 must take care of yourself, for you don't look strong, 
 Freda." 
 
 "I shall be all right," said Freda, and again she 
 laughed in that odd way. " Yes, I suppose Mrs. Vincent 
 and I shall be very comfortable together." 
 
 " I thank God every day, Freda, that you and your 
 little boy are well provided for. You will not always be 
 unhappy, dear; you are too young. There is much to
 
 FREDA. 63 
 
 make you glad yet in this world, though it has pleased 
 God to take your dear husband. You will try and pluck 
 up courage after you have left us, for your little boy's 
 sake?" 
 
 Freda turned away her head and said nothing. 
 
 " I have wanted to speak to you, darling," said Aline, 
 very gravely. " It is more than a year now since your 
 great trouble, and it is time to begin to live again. I 
 know that life can never be the same for you again, but, 
 after all, Freda, to your faith and mine, is not death only 
 a brief absence from each other for those who love 
 truly? And though your absence from him is a time of 
 sorrow and pain, his absence from you is the happiness 
 of God. Can't you bear it, knowing all is well with 
 him?" 
 
 Still Freda said not a word. 
 
 "Then his little child the little one mustn't be robbed 
 of the joy of life that is a child's inheritance. When you 
 have gone back to London, darling, don't give yourself 
 up to sadness. Make the sacrifice of your grief for the 
 child's sake, and God will surely bless it. Don't stay at 
 home and fret. Go into society, where many people 
 will want you. Go about freely, and gather any bright- 
 ness you can from life. Happily, you are not poor. 
 Even I can see that it would be harder to escape from 
 grief if one were very poor." 
 
 "Yes," said Freda, facing her for the first time, and 
 with the oddest expression, "it would be harder if one 
 were very poor."
 
 64 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 She spoke with a kind of bitter amusement. Then 
 Aline went over and kissed her. 
 
 " You won't think I am making little of your grief, 
 you poor soul?" 
 
 " I could never be so unjust to you, Aline." 
 
 "There will be always Jim's mother to take care of 
 you and love you, as well as your Mra Vincent. You 
 and the child will be a good deal with Lady Hazeldine, 
 I am sure?" 
 
 She spoke wistfully. I guessed that she was thinking 
 Freda too young and too pretty to be launched in London 
 society alone. 
 
 Freda's face became suddenly hard. 
 
 "I shall see very little of Lady Hazeldine, Aline. 
 Perhaps I shall not need to say more when I tell you 
 that she suggested to me that I should give up my boy 
 to her." 
 
 Aline turned red and pale. 
 
 "Give up Jacky!" she said, incredulously. 
 
 " Yes, she had the insolence. But I will say no more. 
 I did not mean to tell you, for she is Jim's mother; and 
 now we will never talk about it again." 
 
 Aline looked at her doubtfully. She did not know 
 whether to speak or not; but just then Jacky burst 
 turbulently into the room, carrying a very large kite. 
 He was crying out in his childish tongue, which no one 
 but his mother seemed to thoroughly understand, that 
 Uncle Hugh was going to " fy " it for him. 
 
 Freda caught him up suddenly to her breast, and held
 
 FREDA. 65 
 
 him so a moment. A red spot came into each cheek, 
 and I guessed what she was thinking of. At least that 
 horrid Lady Hazeldine met her deserts when she dared 
 to make such a proposal to Freda; that was a comforting 
 thing to think upon. 
 
 (M 438)
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 "HOW OFT HAS THE BANSHEE CRIED?" 
 
 NOW, I have been going back a good long way, so 
 that I might make it clearly understood what we 
 Brandons have been doing, and, with a long family like 
 ours, it takes time to pick up the threads of all the 
 histories. 
 
 The years have passed quietly since then, and brought 
 few changes except in our ages. We have never seen 
 Freda since, though she writes long letters to Aline full 
 of the old affection. She has never come to us, nor 
 asked any of us to go to her, and we have almost given 
 up thinking that she will ever accept Aline's tenderly- 
 worded invitations, or that any of us will ever share the 
 pleasures of her London life. Not that she writes very 
 often from London. She seems to be usually at one 
 country-house or another, and sometimes great names 
 are mentioned in her letters, names of men we have 
 heard of and would dearly like to see. 
 
 Her permanent address is Magnolia Cottage, Grove 
 Avenue, Parson's Green, which, we think, sounds pretty 
 and countrified. Aline always says that she is so pleased
 
 "HOW OFT HAS THE BANSHEE CKIED?" 67 
 
 that Mrs. Vincent and Freda had the good sense to settle 
 in a country place rather than in Belgravia or Mayfair, 
 or even Kensington, which she has heard are stuffy. 
 Freda's home must be, she thinks, in some outlying 
 village or other, though within reach of London. We 
 imagine it a quiet place with a church and a little bit of 
 common, and the houses of a few gentlefolk, standing 
 round amid their hollies and laurels. It must be so good 
 for Jacky, who does not seem to go with Freda to the 
 country-houses, to live among rural surroundings rather 
 than in the dust and smoke of the great city. 
 
 One event of the years has been Pierce's quarrel with 
 Mr. Desmond, though they had seemed, from the letters 
 Pierce wrote during their first years together, to be 
 almost like father and son, or perhaps it would be better 
 to say, like an elder and younger brother who dearly 
 loved each other. 
 
 Pierce's letters in the old days were full of Mr. 
 Desmond, for whom he seemed to have a kind of hero- 
 worship. Then, without warning, we heard that they 
 had quarrelled, and that Pierce had left Mr. Desmond 
 and gone farther up country. We never heard what the 
 quarrel was about. Pierce merely wrote to Aline that 
 the thing was so; though behind the quiet of his letter 
 there was evidently a cold anger against his former 
 friend. 
 
 Then Mr. Desmond wrote to Aline a letter that I, for 
 one, liked, it was so gentle and deprecatory. He seemed 
 to feel that Aline had trusted him with Pierce, and that
 
 68 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 he had failed to keep his trust, but not through any 
 fault of his own. He, too, gave no explanation of the 
 quarrel, but only said something about young blood 
 being hot, and his hope that presently the boy would 
 cool down and recognize his real friends, and come back 
 to him. 
 
 This letter Aline never answered. Of course she stood 
 by Pierce, and thought Mr. Desmond must have been in 
 the wrong. But though she carried it off so bravely, 
 because her pride and love were up in arms, afterwards 
 she fretted about Pierce. You see our boys have been 
 such home-keeping boys that we are afraid, knowing 
 that one is out in the wide world. 
 
 Pierce writes to Aline, of course, but tells her little 
 about himself, and the letters come at longer intervals. 
 There is never a word about the fortune he was to have 
 made, and since those early years when he was with Mr. 
 Desmond he sends home no money, though he must 
 know how poor we are, and becoming poorer every year. 
 I wonder how much longer we will be able to keep the 
 wolf from the door, and Sir Rupert De Lacy out of 
 Brandon. 
 
 Oh, by the way, I must mention that Sir Rupert has 
 taken to sending us at intervals proposals for the 
 purchase of the old place! In the beginning Aline used 
 to open these, and then fling them indignantly into the 
 fire; but with the more recent ones she has simply re- 
 addressed them and sent them back unopened. I suppose 
 the grim old wolf up there in Castle Angry just chuckles
 
 "HOW OFT HAS THE BANSHEE CRIED?" 69 
 
 when his epistles come back to him, knowing he can 
 bide his time. 
 
 They say he drinks a great deal more than of old; but 
 for the matter of that, no one can know, for he and 
 Gaskin are the only two creatures inside Castle Angry. 
 The place grows wickeder and grayer up there in its gash 
 in the mountain, as legends and stories of its master's 
 doings gather round it. I don't know if I said before 
 that it is built after the manner of a fortified house, 
 with a gateway under two turrets, and a moat drawn 
 round about it. I have seen it from far off, and have 
 thought its aspect had something sinister and frightful 
 about it. The gates are locked and bolted, facing the 
 bridge over the moat that has taken the place of what 
 was once, no doubt, a drawbridge. The boys, who have 
 ventured near, tell me that the moat is covered with 
 green slime and full of unwholesome things, while the 
 grassy space about is sodden, and overgrown with weird 
 fungi of brilliant blue and scarlet. That is, no doubt, 
 because of the exceeding damp of the place, for around 
 and above it is bog, and the sun always seems to pass 
 over that gash in Angry Mountain, as if there were 
 something there which it hated. 
 
 The boys are very curious about what lies beyond the 
 moat and the barred gate. I have implored them not to 
 venture near again, for if Sir Rupert caught sight of 
 them, or Gaskin, who is a worse man, either might loose 
 the bloodhounds, and then say afterwards that it was 
 none of their doing.
 
 70 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 Poor boys! they are tall young striplings now; so 
 handsome and distinguished for all their shabby clothes, 
 made by Hugh Reilly, the tailor in Brandon village. It 
 is hard that we could give them no proper education, 
 and that they must be condemned indefinitely to do 
 nothing except shoot rabbits on Brandon hill and fish 
 in Brandon river. It is enough, as I say, to make good 
 boys into worthless men. 
 
 Aline feels badly about it, I know. If there were but 
 another buyer for Brandon anyone except Sir Rupert 
 we would, I think, let it go, dear to us as it is. But it 
 is not the place only, it is the poor people who depend on 
 us, and who are miserably poor, if we are miserably poor. 
 Sir Rupert would show them scant mercy, we know. 
 He has cleared Angry long ago of the few poor creatures 
 who clung to it, despite its unkindliness. The mountain 
 sheep wander now where once there were hearth-fires. 
 
 "Let him keep Angry," I say, "he shall not have 
 Brandon." 
 
 Curiously enough, I could bear better that he should 
 have the house and Aline's rose-garden, and the park and 
 the river, and the old abbey even, than Brandon Moun- 
 tain, Brandon and Angry are twin mountains; but 
 there was a good fairy by the cradle of one, and a wicked 
 fairy by the other. Blue, benign, smiling Brandon 
 Mountain has watched over our race. Must he pass to 
 the race of an enemy? Shall he, and the few little 
 white cottages clustered about his feet, come under the 
 blight that is upon Angry? No, a thousand times, no!
 
 "HOW OFT HAS THE BANSHEE CRIED?" 71 
 
 The boys are not so ignorant, however, as might be 
 supposed. Mr. Benson, whether for love of Aline, or 
 because, as he himself says, he would not have his classics 
 rust, has been their unpaid tutor, and I am sure they 
 are really far better educated than most boys of their 
 age, even if their learning be a bit old-fashioned. Will 
 they ever find their opportunities, I wonder? I remem- 
 ber when we used to hope that Mr. Desmond, having set 
 Pierce's feet on a golden road, would perhaps help Hugh, 
 who has never forgotten his childish admiration for the 
 man. But all that has come to nothing. Pierce was the 
 raven we sent out of our ark in search of good tidings; 
 but he came not back. 
 
 Aline has grown older almost by years in the months 
 that have elapsed since Pierce and Mr. Desmond parted. 
 I have seen her come down in the morning worn and 
 haggard, and have guessed that she has either spent a 
 great part of the night in prayer for her beloved, or else 
 she has slept ill, and been troubled in her dreams about 
 him. 
 
 I think she fears that things are not well with him, 
 and I know that she has implored him in vain to come 
 home. His letters bring her at once joy and disappoint- 
 ment. In every one, I think, she hopes that he will say 
 he is coming back. She herself, with her own hands, 
 still keeps his room swept and garnished, and the bed- 
 clothes ever ready aired, as though at any hour of the 
 day or night a wanderer might return. 
 
 Aline's little turret faces the great avenue of Brandon.
 
 72 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 Lately, I have noticed that at any hour of the night I 
 might waken, her light was burning; but only yesterday 
 Oona told me that a lamp burns all night in the uncur- 
 tained window. I am sure that Aline's heart watches 
 awake for Pierce, even when her body is sleeping. But 
 lest he should come suddenly in the dark hours, she sets 
 the light there like a star to draw him home. Who 
 knows through what mirk and what distance it may find 
 him at last? 
 
 " Oh, Oona, dear," I cried to our old nurse when she 
 had told me of the light, " I wish he would come back ! 
 It troubles me to see the hope and the disappointment 
 that are always following each other in Aline's face. It 
 is wearing her out." 
 
 "Now, look here, Miss Hilda dear," the old woman 
 said, putting a comfortable arm about me, "'tis my 
 opinion that Master Pierce '11 never come home unless he 
 brings the riches, my dear. He knows what was ex- 
 pected of him, and he's proud, terrible proud, as becomes 
 a Brandon. No, he'll never come, except with the gold 
 in his hand, or the death in his face; and if he knew he 
 was to be taken, I don't think he could stay away from 
 the sister that's been mother and sweetheart both to 
 him." 
 
 " Oona, Oona," cried I, "you're talking horribly! What 
 has death to do with Pierce, who was always so strong 
 and well? I wouldn't have you say such a thing to 
 Aline for worlds." 
 
 "No, nor I wouldn't, my pretty; only to you that has
 
 "HOW OFT HAS THE BANSHEE CRIED?" 73 
 
 the wise head and the still tongue. But I see the trouble 
 coming, and if I don't halve it, my old heart will break." 
 
 She looked at me curiously, still keeping me pressed 
 closely to her, and her face had grown indeed full of 
 trouble. 
 
 "Do ye sleep very sound o' nights, love?" she asked 
 presently. 
 
 " Pretty well, Oona, unless when the wind crying in 
 the corridors keeps me awake." 
 
 " There's more cries there nor the wind." 
 
 "Oh, Oona, what do you mean? What superstition 
 have you got into your head now?" 
 
 "No superstition at all, then," said Oona, a little 
 offended; "and perhaps I'd better have kept my tongue 
 to myself." 
 
 "Perhaps you had, Oona; but since you didn't, you 
 may as well go on. I suppose you think you've heard 
 the banshee?" 
 
 The old woman nodded her head solemnly. 
 
 " There was no thinking about it, dearie. She's cried 
 the last three nights, and grateful I am that Miss Aline 
 slept sound and didn't hear her." 
 
 " If Miss Aline heard any crying, she would know it 
 was the wind. Her trust is all in God, and she knows 
 that He keeps the things of life and death in His own 
 hands, and that His love is all about her. She would 
 tell you there was no such thing as the banshee." 
 
 " She would not, Miss Hilda, and I wonder at you to 
 say the like. No Brandon should say it. 'Tis just be-
 
 74 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 cause ye are Brandons, the finest, purest, ould blood alive^ 
 that she cries for ye." 
 
 Oona went off visibly indignant, and left me vaguely 
 troubled. Though I had spoken so boldly, I fear it is 
 not in Brandon blood quite to disbelieve in the banshee. 
 And would it not be to deprive our ancient race of one of 
 the proudest of its appanages ? We have lost so much 
 that we may well keep this shadowy retainer of ours. 
 
 After all, I am not surprised at Oona. It is all very 
 well in the broad daylight to deny the banshee, but it is 
 different at night when the lights are out, and one is 
 alone, and starts from one's pillow to hear the wind, or 
 something, crying through the old half -ruined house. 
 
 This morning put it out of my mind. For the boys 
 had been wild-duck shooting before it was daybreak, 
 and had heard a bit of news from their crony, Jim 
 Hagarty, with which to regale the breakfast- table. News 
 is scarce with us, I needn't say; and, like all country 
 people, we dearly love to hear of our neighbours. 
 
 "Jim says Sir Rupert's grandson has come to visit 
 him. He arrived on Saturday, and there was no one to 
 meet him at the station, and he had to have out O'Haire's 
 fly to carry his portmanteau and things over to Angry." 
 
 " And the next day a groom arrived with a fine horse, 
 and asked his way to Castle Angry. But Jim says he 
 went away by the train the same evening. I suppose 
 there was no place for him at Angry," adds Donald, 
 taking up the tale. 
 
 Aline's kind face took on a look of concern.
 
 "HOW OFT HAS THE BANSHEE CRIED?" 75 
 
 " I hope it is not true," she said. " Castle Angry is no 
 place for a boy." 
 
 "Oh, it is true enough!" the boys cried together, "for 
 Tom O'Haire read the name on the luggage, and it was 
 ' Harry De Lacy '. And he says that Gaskin came out 
 and took in the things, and wouldn't let Tom drive in- 
 side the courtyard, but Tom heard the dogs howling and 
 yelping, and someone shouting at them, whom he took 
 to be Sir Rupert. So he says that he wasn't sorry to 
 drive away like mad as soon as he'd set down his pas- 
 senger, fearing they'd take it into their heads to loose 
 the dogs." 
 
 "Poor boy!" says Aline regretfully. "He cannot be 
 more than twenty-one. Why has he come to such a 
 place ? " 
 
 " Possibly Sir Rupert has made him," I suggested. " It 
 would be like one of his grim jokes to introduce the heir 
 to his property. He is the heir, isn't he?" 
 
 " Yes, Angry is entailed right enough." 
 
 " Probably Sir Rupert's grandson will be able to hold 
 his own even with Sir Rupert," I said; but Aline shook 
 her head. 
 
 " His father never could hold his own, and Oona will 
 tell you that his mother was fair and gentle and delicate. 
 It is cruel of Sir Rupert to bring him here, having left 
 him all his years with his English grandfather." 
 
 "Is he so different?" asked Esther, who had been 
 listening with interest. 
 
 " I have heard that he is a gentle old man, very learned
 
 76 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 and very pious. His rectory is in Warwickshire, in beau- 
 tiful English pastoral country. This boy must have 
 had a tenderly-nurtured youth." 
 
 "By Jove!" muttered Hugh, "and think of the poor 
 beggar coming to Angry!" 
 
 " He can't have been prepared either," said Donald, 
 " or he'd never have brought all those traps with him 
 gun-cases and fishing-tackle and tennis-rackets and no 
 end of things. By Jove, much use he'll find for them at 
 Angry!" 
 
 " We must only hope that his visit will be a short one," 
 said Aline, with one of her gentle sighs. 
 
 I am sure this strange boy interests her because she 
 sees in every boy something of Pierce, something, too, of 
 Hugh and Donald. Ah ! well, we Brandons, despite short 
 commons and no money, have had as happy a childhood 
 as children ever had. I know Mother left us to Aline, 
 and well has Aline kept trust with her. She will not 
 need to look away when they meet one day in heaven.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A TRUE WORD SPOKEN IN JEST. 
 
 TO-DAY Esther and I were sitting with Aline in her 
 room. It was bitterly cold, though fine and sunny. 
 I should have liked to be out with the twins, whom I 
 could see in the garden below tramping up and down 
 steadily, hand in hand. They are growing up as wild 
 and shy as a little pair of rabbits, and they are quite 
 safe to keep to the gardens once Aline has told them 
 there was a fear of their meeting the hunt if they went 
 out to the park or the woods. They fear nothing except 
 the eyes of strangers. It makes us laugh to know that 
 they who would face Lord Aranmore's tallest stag, or the 
 little wild, horned, mountain cattle, will turn round and 
 run, still hand in hand, if they should happen to see a 
 well-dressed stranger approaching them. 
 
 I had promised to help Aline with some baby-clothes 
 she was making for poor Mary Kennedy, whose husband 
 was killed by a falling tree in the summer, and whose 
 first baby was born the other day, else I too should have 
 been out-of-doors, though I am not brisk in getting about; 
 and Esther, who takes care that I am never left behind,
 
 78 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 nor made to feel a drag on the pleasure of the others, would 
 have been with me. 
 
 The things we are sewing at are made out of clothes 
 we ourselves had when we were little. They are fine, 
 dainty little garments, and smell sweetly of lavender. It 
 almost breaks Oona's heart that Aline will use them for 
 the children of the poor. She says that coarse stuffs 
 would be far better, and perhaps she is right, but we 
 have no money to purchase the coarse stuffs if we would. 
 Oona never argues with Aline about it, but gives up the 
 keys of the drawers that contain the treasures, without 
 words indeed, but with sighs as from a breaking heart 
 Aline, for all her gentleness, makes even Oona feel that 
 she is mistress. 
 
 Aline has a curious love and tenderness for little babies, 
 and she would not feel the finest stuffs in the world too 
 good for their little tender bodies. I have seen her nursing 
 them with an expression half-divine. I am not sure that 
 she does not see in every one of them the little Baby of 
 Bethlehem, and that they are not the more precious for 
 being born, like Him, in poverty. Then she is veriest 
 woman. I cannot bear to think of Aline growing old 
 unmarried. But that is one of the secret thoughts I keep 
 to myself. 
 
 Suddenly my eyes, that had been straying from my 
 seam, caught sight of a gleam of scarlet in the distant 
 coppice. Another and another, and then I jumped to my 
 feet and limped to the window. There were the hounds 
 stretching in a long line away to Larry's Spinney, and
 
 A TRUE WORD SPOKEN IN JEST. 79 
 
 hard on their heels went half a dozen scarlet coats, 
 shadowed with here and there a blue habit. I cried out, 
 "The hunt, the hunt, Esther! Oh, come and see!" 
 
 Aline looked with benign amusement at our excite- 
 ment. 
 
 "Run out, children," she said; "you will see better 
 from the summer-house in the rose-garden. Don't let 
 the twins tumble out of the window, and go easily, Hilda 
 dear; there will be plenty of time, for the river will turn 
 them." 
 
 We went out rejoicing. The summer-house is in two 
 stories, a wooden structure with seats, and little windows 
 of coloured glass, opening inwards, that may be shut 
 against the weather. We found the twins already in 
 possession of the upper window, but, taking the privileges 
 of elder sisters, we packed them below, where they went 
 rather grumblingly. 
 
 Yes, the hunt had turned, and was coming back our 
 way. It would pass quite close to us, and no one would 
 notice us, for their excitement would be too absorbing. 
 
 " Why, there are the boys," I cried, " over yonder on 
 the branch of the chestnut! Poor boys, how they must 
 want to follow!" 
 
 Even the boys did not see us. As soon as the hunt 
 passed they would go pounding away across country to 
 get another glimpse. Ah! there was Jack Tobin the 
 huntsman, and Graves the whipper-in, and, well in front, 
 Lord Clandeboye the master, and his pretty daughter, 
 and following came a rout of scarlet and black.
 
 80 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " Esther," whispered I, " supposing that as they went 
 by one should look up and fall in love with you, and that 
 he should prove to be Prince Charming." 
 
 " Why not with you, Hilda?" she said, with one of her 
 rich blushea 
 
 "What have I to do with love or lovers?" I asked; 
 and it was indeed true that since my accident I had con- 
 sidered that my life was outside the romances of other 
 girls. 
 
 The ground slopes under the thick yew hedge of the 
 rose-garden, so that, as the riders came pounding along 
 at the foot of the hill, we had them well in view. One 
 was riding a beautiful bay horse, which attracted my 
 attention before my eyes went to the rider's face. When 
 I looked at him I gave Esther's arm a pinch. 
 
 "There goes your knight, Esther," I cried. "Now, if 
 only he would have an accident, and we could take him 
 in and nurse him, it would be like one of your story- 
 books. Let us will him to fall down shall we?" 
 
 But Esther seemed not to have heard me. She had 
 drawn back suddenly into the shadow of the room. The 
 young rider had caught sight of us, and was looking up. 
 For the moment he was evidently not thinking of the 
 hunt, for his sideways gaze was a long, direct one. Then 
 I saw that Esther was blushing hotly all over her dark 
 face, and her eyes had sunk under her long soft lashes. 
 
 "I am afraid he heard your voice, Hilda dear," she 
 murmured; and then her eyes flashed out again with 
 sudden horror and fear.
 
 A TRUE WORD SPOKEN IN JEST. 81 
 
 Startled, I looked in the direction of her glance. There, 
 where the young rider had been flashing along in the 
 run downhill, lay the horse kicking and struggling, and 
 a space in front of him the huddled-up figure of his 
 master. 
 
 Some of the other hunters were off their horses, and 
 running and shouting, but nearest of all were our two 
 brothers, who in a second of time had reached the pros- 
 trate man. Then a group of men hid all from our sight; 
 but in a second or two we saw that they had lifted the 
 young man, and had laid him on a space of sward. 
 
 I looked round at Esther. Her eyes were wide open, 
 and she was deadly pale. 
 
 "You're not going to faint?" I said. 
 
 " No," she answered, and the colour came back to her 
 cheeks and lips. "You don't think he's dead, Hilda?" 
 
 " I hope not. Dr. Rivers is there, fortunately. Come 
 and we will see what has happened. Someone will tell us." 
 
 "Yes," said Esther. "Come and see. Of course he 
 must be taken to Brandon." 
 
 " Unless he is near his own home," I suggested. 
 
 Esther looked at me almost angrily. 
 
 " He must be taken to Brandon," she said again. 
 
 She went out with an air that might have been Aline's 
 own. No one would have thought that she was the 
 younger sister, as I humbly followed her. She went up 
 to the little group that stood about the fallen man, and 
 though everyone turned to look at her, she did not seem 
 to notice them. 
 
 ( M 436 ) F
 
 82 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " I hope he is not very much hurt, Dr. Rivers," she said. 
 " Of course you will carry him into the house at once." 
 
 The doctor lifted his hat 
 
 " I'm afraid there's a concussion of the brain he was 
 flung on his head but I can't examine him properly here. 
 Thank you, Miss Brandon. Of course the best thing 
 would be to get him indoors at once. Your brother has 
 kindly offered the poor fellow the hospitality of your 
 house." 
 
 Esther turned to Hugh, who was standing by. " Run 
 in quickly," she said, " and tell Aline we are coming." 
 
 Presently, as they were making up a rough litter on 
 which to carry him, Donald came to my side and whis- 
 pered that the young man was a stranger in these parts, 
 and that no one seemed to know where he had dropped 
 from. Also that the horse, which they had thought must 
 be badly injured, had done nothing worse than lame him- 
 self. He had stepped in a rabbit-hole, and so caused the 
 accident." 
 
 "They had better bring in the poor beast too," he 
 added. " There are no lack of empty stalls, and I daresay 
 we can find him a bit of bedding." 
 
 In a few minutes they were carrying the young fellow 
 towards the house, the horse following with a hanging 
 head, as if he were conscious that his master was hurt, 
 and felt himself in some degree to blame. He was a beauti- 
 ful beast, and I was so glad he was not hurt, for all dumb 
 animals are very near my heart, that I felt irrationally 
 hopeful about his master's case also.
 
 A TRUE WORD SPOKEN IN JEST. 83 
 
 However, Dr. Rivers seemed to think the business very 
 serious. There was concussion, he found, and he feared 
 internal injuries as well, so that the young man might lie 
 unconscious and on our hands for some time. 
 
 " It is too bad, Miss Brandon," he said to Aline, " that 
 you should have all this trouble thrust upon you. He 
 ought really to have a nurse." 
 
 He hesitated and looked at her. Aline smiled faintly. 
 
 "Oona, our old nurse, has considerable experience in 
 sick nursing," she said, " and, as you see, she will have 
 several lieutenants." 
 
 The doctor nodded approvingly. 
 
 "I should not dare to order his removal, even if we 
 knew that he had friends in the neighbourhood." 
 
 " Pray do not think of such a thing," said Aline hastily. 
 " The fact that he met with his accident near our doors is 
 his claim upon us. Heaven forbid that we should grudge 
 him anything we can do!" 
 
 I saw Dr. Rivers, who is a bachelor, look at her with a 
 very distinct glance of admiration. 
 
 " It is curious that no one seems to know him," he said, 
 looking down at the unconscious face of his patient. "Of 
 course, he may have ridden some distance to the meet, 
 yet his horse seemed fresh, and was well in front all the 
 time." 
 
 " He must be the stranger within the gates till he can 
 speak for himself," Aline replied. " Only, I pray that no 
 one may be in tortures of suspense about his absence." 
 
 Dr. Rivers had already turned out the young fellow's
 
 84 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 pockets, in a vain search for a clue to his identity. A 
 silver cigar-case with an intricate monogram, a handker- 
 chief with the same lettering, a match-box, a pair of 
 gloves; these told us nothing. We must wait for time 
 to clear up the mystery. 
 
 After Dr. Rivers had gone, and Oona was installed in 
 the sick-room, I crept in softly to where she sat beside the 
 fire, sewing and crooning to herself, just as I remember 
 her when I was three years old. 
 
 I came in on tiptoe, but Oona smiled at me reassuringly. 
 
 "You needn't be afraid, Miss Hilda, child. He's nearly 
 as sound off as if he were dead. It would take nearly as 
 much to waken him." 
 
 I looked at the face in the shadow of the chintz cur- 
 tains. It was a fair, boyish face, with something very 
 sweet and captivating about it, even through its rigid 
 pallor. A small golden moustache hid the quiet mouth, 
 and the hair was golden. The lids were only half-closed 
 over the eyes, so that I was startled a minute. 
 
 " He looks as if he were dead, Oona," I cried, starting 
 back. 
 
 "He's not dead, Miss Hilda, don't you be afraid of that; 
 and what's more, he's not going to die." 
 
 "He is very handsome," I said, venturing on another 
 glance. 
 
 "He is, a downright pretty young gentleman," said 
 Oona; and the phrase seemed the right one. His was 
 an almost feminine charm and sweetness. 
 
 Ever since the accident I had been troubled by the
 
 A TRUE WORD SPOKEN IN JEST. 85 
 
 foolish thing I had been saying to Esther just at the 
 moment it happened. Of course it was only a jest, and 
 could have had no possible effect; a silly joke couldn't 
 have made the bay put its foot in a rabbit-hole. Still, 
 I felt horribly disquieted about it, and only hoped 
 that Esther had not heard me, as she certainly had not 
 seemed to. 
 
 " It would be horrible, Oona," said I, " if your banshee 
 had been crying for him." 
 
 Oona looked at me almost with contempt. 
 
 " Tis English he is, by the cut of him," she said. " I 
 never heard tell of an English family that she followed." 
 
 Oona shook her head and sighed, and I knew that she 
 was thinking the mysterious warning betokened death 
 for one of us. It made me feel rather creepy, so I went 
 out, closing the door, and in search of Esther. 
 
 I found her lying down. She had a headache, she said, 
 and she looked flushed and ill at ease. 
 
 " Dear old Essie," I said as I patted her pillows, " the 
 shock of seeing the accident has upset you. You must 
 try and sleep, and then you will be better." 
 
 I felt a little lost for want of Esther's company, as I 
 stole down to Aline's room. Finding it empty, I crept 
 into a corner by the fire and lost my sense of loneliness 
 in a novel. But only for a time, for it wasn't a very 
 convincing novel, and the thing which had happened to 
 us only this morning was much more interesting. 
 
 Presently my novel slipped from my knee, and I sat 
 with my chin propped in my hands, looking into the heart
 
 86 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 of the cosy driftwood fire. All of a sudden an illumina- 
 tion came to me. Why, the boy upstairs was, must be, 
 Sir Rupert's grandson. How amazing that nobody should 
 have thought of it but me ! 
 
 "This makes a horribly awkward complication," I 
 thought, having made up my mind on the first matter. 
 " If Aline recognizes the probability of my guess, she will 
 think it her duty to send word to Sir Rupert. I feel 
 quite sure that Sir Rupert is wicked and determined 
 enough to remove the young fellow at the risk of his 
 life. He wouldn't be beholden to a Brandon for any- 
 thing. Then, if the removal didn't kill him, the tender 
 mercies of Castle Angry would be sure to do it." 
 
 I shuddered to think of the poor young fellow lying 
 ill at Castle Angry. Why, Sir Rupert or James Gaskin 
 might kill him in one of their orgies. There was some- 
 thing helpless and appealing in my memory of the quiet 
 young face that went to my heart. 
 
 " I shall keep my counsel," I said aloud, as I have a 
 habit of doing. " I may be right or wrong, but it seems 
 to me that no harm can lie in silence." 
 
 So not even to Esther did I whisper my suspicions; 
 but I was surprised at the density of everybody except 
 myself. Even the boys, who told us first that Sir Rupert's 
 grandson had come home, exhausted their conjectures 
 about the stranger's identity, and never once stumbled 
 near the truth.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE STRANGER WITHIN THE GATE. 
 
 THE young man had been many days under our roof, 
 and we knew no more of him than at the first; yet 
 the mystery but deepened our interest in him. A hand- 
 some, fashionably dressed young man, and a fine bay horse, 
 do not disappear out of the world every day with not a 
 soul apparently to seek after them, or inquire of their 
 fate. We discussed the matter at every meal. We were 
 so much interested, indeed, that we kept more to the 
 house than of old; and the boys had pleasure and exer- 
 cise enough in cantering the stranger's horse up and 
 down the long avenue; for the fine spirited brute soon 
 grew hot-blooded in the stable, and he would have 
 kicked the crazy stalls to pieces if his spirits had not 
 had some vent. 
 
 One or other of us was always stealing in on tiptoe to 
 the high, light room, where Oona sat sewing, her face 
 looking very important in the shadow of her huge frilled 
 cap. 
 
 "How is he now, Oona?" we would ask, and Oona 
 would answer, " No better and no worse " ; and then, with
 
 88 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 a glance at the rigid young face on the pillows, we would 
 steal out again. 
 
 But the third day I found Esther sitting, in a familial- 
 attitude of hers, on the rug at Oona's feet, with an open 
 book on her knee, and her eyes gazing into the heart of 
 the fire. Esther had been very silent while we gabbled 
 about the young stranger's identity; she was never one 
 to talk much. Yet I could see that she listened eagerly 
 for the doctor's verdict every morning when he would 
 come tramping down to Aline's room after visiting his 
 patient. She did not seem quite the old Esther in those 
 days. She had an absent manner, which no one seemed 
 to notice but myself, and she looked a little pale, and had 
 dark rings about her eyes, as if she did not sleep well at 
 night. 
 
 On the sixth day the young man began to come back 
 to life again. So Esther told us when she came gliding 
 into her place at the breakfast-table. She had spoken to 
 Oona outside the door, and Oona had told her. She 
 looked glad and excited, and I felt that pity for the 
 young stranger had been troubling her of late more than 
 the rest of us. 
 
 Still, even when the young man was conscious, Dr. 
 Rivers enjoined absolute quiet. We were not to trouble 
 yet about people who might be sorrowing for his absence. 
 As he got better he would remember of himself, and let 
 us know. 
 
 Aline was now the only visitor to the sick-room. The 
 sick man seemed to have got as used to her face and
 
 THE STRANGER WITHIN THE GATE. 89 
 
 Oona's as if he had always known them. Aline told us 
 that he showed pleasure in her visits, and I think that, 
 half unknown to herself, in those days she began to lay 
 the foundation of a warm affection for the boy, in whose 
 case Pierce might have been. 
 
 At last he was well enough to ask her to write a letter 
 for him. It was to his grandfather, an English clergy- 
 man, and told him in the briefest possible way, for he 
 was not equal to much thought, about his fall, and that 
 he was steadily recovering, so that there was no cause for 
 anxiety. 
 
 Aline came downstairs with the letter in her hand, and 
 when I came in from the stables, where I had been giving 
 the bay an apple, I found her standing by the hall-table, 
 gazing at the envelope with a puzzled line between her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Come here, Hilda," she said, " and tell me if you have 
 any associations with this name." 
 
 I took the letter from her hand. It was addressed to 
 the Rev. Henry Vane, Wrixmundham Rectory, Warwick- 
 shire. 
 
 "No; I'm sure I haven't," I replied. "Never heard of 
 a Vane before in my life, except Cromwell's Sir Harry. 
 Perhaps you are thinking of him." 
 
 "No; I don't think so," said Aline, putting the letter 
 into the tattered basket which served us for post-bag. 
 " I suppose I must have only fancied it, but I certainly 
 did seem to have heard the name before." 
 
 I often looked towards Angry in those days, and
 
 90 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 thought how hard-hearted Sir Rupert must be never to 
 have concerned himself about his grandson's fate. It 
 was probably true that, as people said, he hated the boy, 
 as he had hated his mother and his father, though the 
 latter was his own flesh and blood. Well, I was glad 
 that in his weakness and need the poor boy was in Oona's 
 motherly hands, rather than at the mercy of that pair of 
 old wretches over yonder. I had him on my conscience 
 somehow since I had made that foolish speech, which had 
 hardly left my mouth before the accident occurred. 
 
 The rest of the household seemed to think that the 
 mystery was solved. Our visitor was an Englishman, 
 come over for the hunting probably, as many did every 
 year, and whose headquarters were at some inn or other, 
 and that was all. 
 
 Meanwhile he progressed slowly, but quite to Dr. 
 Rivers' satisfaction. Presently he was able to come 
 downstairs for longer and longer intervals. At first he 
 leant on the boys as he made the journey, but after a 
 time he was able to manage with my stick and the help 
 of the banisters. I don't think any of us ever asked 
 ourselves when he would be well enough to go, though 
 he must be a strain On our resources. He looked so 
 gentle and so young, and his manner was so grateful, that 
 we all grew quite fond of him. And yet we had never 
 heard his name. The omission did not seem to strike 
 him, and it did not occur to any of us to ask him. 
 
 One day Esther suggested shyly to Aline that we should 
 read to our guest and play to him, to relieve the tedium
 
 THE STRANGER WITHIN THE GATE. 91 
 
 of his invalidism. Aline assented heartily, and made the 
 suggestion to him when he was established on the sofa 
 for the afternoon. 
 
 " We have no newspapers," she said, laughing, " except 
 the Lissycasey Leader, and our magazines are thirty years 
 old, but there are some novels and poetry. Or if you do 
 not care for reading, Esther will play to you, but the 
 piano has not been tuned for years." 
 
 He lifted up his eyes, which had begun to smile again, 
 though they were hollow. 
 
 " I should like the poetry if Miss Hilda or Miss Esther 
 will be so good as to read to me." 
 
 I brought down my old Tennyson and selected Maud, 
 which I love best of all the poems. I read on in a silence 
 only broken by the crackling of the logs in the grate. 
 Aline had left us, and Esther had gone over to the fire, 
 and was sitting on the old sheep-skin rug, with her arms 
 leaning on a chair, propping her cheek. Outside there 
 were blue skies and keen frost, and the room with its 
 painted wreaths on the wall, and the faded old brocade 
 of curtains and chair-covers, looked warm and pleasant. 
 
 " I have led her home, my love, my only friend ; 
 There is none like her, none. 
 And never yet so warmly ran my blood, 
 And sweetly, on and on, 
 Calming itself to the long-wished-for end, 
 Full to the banks, close on the promised good. 
 
 rt None like her, none. 
 
 Just now the dry-tongued laurels' pattering talk 
 Seemed her light foot along the garden walk,
 
 92 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 And shook my heart to think she comes once more ; 
 But even then I heard her close the door ; 
 The gates of Heaven are closed and she is gone. 
 
 " There is none like her, none, 
 Nor will be when our summers have deceased. 
 O, art thou sighing for Lebanon ; 
 In the long breeze that streams to thy delicious East, 
 Sighing for Lebanon. 
 
 Dark cedar, though thy limbs have here increased 
 Upon a pastoral slope as fair, 
 And looking to the South, and fed 
 With honeyed rain and delicate air, 
 And haunted by the starry head 
 Of her whose gentle will has changed my fate, 
 And made my life a perfumed altar-flame." 
 
 When I had read so far, a sense of something electrical 
 in the room made me look up suddenly from the page. 
 The invalid had lifted himself a little on his elbow, and 
 was gazing at my sister's lovely unconscious face, with 
 such a curious intentness and yearning that I felt a shock 
 of surprise and consternation. As my voice ceased he fell 
 back on his pillow, and at the same moment Esther turned 
 slowly like one waking. 
 
 "Oh, do go on, Hilda," she said; "it is lovely!" 
 I read on, but no more forgot myself in the poem. 
 My thoughts were perturbed. Was it possible that my 
 foolish speech the other day could come true ? Was there 
 really such a thing as love at first sight? And if the 
 young fellow was in love with Esther, and if she should 
 respond to him, how would things be? The hereditary 
 enemy why, it would be Romeo and Juliet over again.
 
 THE STRANGER WITHIN THE GATE. 93 
 
 The romance of it fluttered my pulses a little, but I 
 have a certain measure of plain common-sense, which 
 Esther has not, where it is a question of romance. I 
 didn't see how such a love affair could end happily, for 
 Sir Rupert would move heaven and earth to keep his 
 grandson from marrying a Brandon, and no doubt the 
 young fellow was dependent on him till his death. 
 
 These thoughts came between me and the page. I 
 knew I was reading badly, for the invalid sighed once or 
 twice uneasily, and even Esther turned and looked at me 
 in wonder. At last I went over and put the book into 
 her lap. 
 
 " Go on, Essie," said I, " I am tired." 
 
 I wanted to go and tell Aline who I guessed the stranger 
 to be, as I ought to have done at first when I suspected 
 it. 
 
 " Do you know, Aline," I cried, bursting in on her where 
 she was sitting with a huge pile of mending beside her, 
 " I believe I've guessed who our visitor is." 
 
 "Indeed, Hilda! And who is he?" 
 
 " Why, Sir Rupert's grandson." 
 
 Aline dropped her piece of mending, and stared at me 
 aghast. 
 
 "Why should you think so, Hilda? He hasn't told 
 you?" " 
 
 " I've been putting two and two together, and I think 
 we are a parcel of dunderheads not to have thought of it 
 before. Don't you remember that the boys told us, a 
 couple of days before the accident, that Sir Rupert's
 
 94 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 grandson had come home, and about the horse following? 
 Then who in the world would be so unnatural as to 
 make no inquiries after the boy except that same horrid 
 old Sir Rupert?" 
 
 " You are probably right, Hilda I wonder we didn't 
 think of it. And that, of course, was why I thought I 
 recognized his grandfather's name. Of course his mother's 
 name was Mary Vane. I remember now to have heard 
 it from our own dear mother." 
 
 "It is plain enough to me," I said. "I only wonder 
 we didn't think of it all along." 
 
 " Ah, you see you are the wise Hilda ! But it wouldn't 
 have made any difference. We couldn't have let him 
 die outside our walls if he were twenty times our heredi- 
 tary enemy." 
 
 " Which he hardly is." 
 
 "No, poor boy," said Aline, a little sorrowfully, I 
 thought. " He surely is not. Clearly, he knows nothing 
 about the feud or he would have recognized our name 
 as soon as he heard it." 
 
 " If he knew, I don't suppose it would make any differ- 
 ence," said I; "those musty old hatreds can't go on for 
 ever." 
 
 "I don't believe any ever existed, except in Sir 
 Rupert's heart. I know our grandfather, whom he had 
 wronged deeply, forgave him fully, and, when he spoke 
 of him in his latter days, wept, I have heard, because at 
 one time he had thought of him like a brother, and, being 
 the good man he was, the old affection had come back."
 
 THE STRANGER WITHIN THE GATE. 95 
 
 "You will ask him, I suppose, if we are not right?" 
 
 " Oh yes, I shall ask him ! but it can make no difference 
 at present. Here he must stay till he is fit to go, and I 
 shall make that plain to him." 
 
 "But afterwards?" 
 
 "Afterwards?" said Aline, looking sad. "I fear we 
 shall see no more of him. By the way, I left you read- 
 ing to him." 
 
 "Yes, I handed over the reading to Esther when I 
 felt I had to come and tell you." 
 
 "Better go back now, dear Hilda," she said gently. 
 " Of course it must make no difference in our treatment 
 of him while he stays, but we must remember that when 
 he goes, he goes finally." 
 
 From this I guessed that she, too, had a vague uneasi- 
 ness about Esther. 
 
 When I opened the door of the room and went in, I 
 saw that the reading had evidently been over for some 
 time. Tennyson lay on the floor unheeded, and the two 
 were talking like old friends. The boy looked flushed 
 and happy and a little shy. Esther, more unconscious, 
 was listening to his talk at her ease, but evidently much 
 interested. 
 
 "We have been talking, Miss Hilda," said the boy. 
 " Your sister disclaimed any idea of reading poetry after 
 you, so we talked instead; at least I talked, all about 
 myself, and your sister listened." 
 
 " Essie is always a good listener," said I absently. 
 
 Presently Aline came in to pay the invalid her usual
 
 96 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 afternoon visit. I was relieved when, a minute or two 
 afterwards, Esther went out. Somehow I wanted to tell 
 her first, not to have it sprung on her suddenly, that the 
 young stranger was one we must not permit ourselves to 
 like. 
 
 After a few commonplace phrases had been spoken, 
 Aline said: 
 
 " By the way, it is a little odd that we don't yet know 
 your name. It hasn't struck you that we have no name 
 to call you by?" 
 
 The young fellow blushed and laughed. 
 
 " By Jove, how stupid of me ! It never struck me that 
 all your goodness was shown to a man whose name 
 actually you were in ignorance of. I am Harry De 
 Lacy." 
 
 " Sir Rupert De Lacy's grandson?" 
 
 " Yes. Do you know him ? But I don't suppose you 
 do. He is like an ogre shut up in his castle; but you 
 will know of him by repute. He was rather a shock 
 to me, Miss Brandon, for my dear old grandfather in 
 Warwickshire had not at all prepared me for him. He 
 is rather odd, you know." 
 
 "Perhaps your English grandfather did not know," 
 said Aline with her face averted. 
 
 "Perhaps not. I know they haven't met for years. 
 I always understood that they weren't very good friends, 
 but my English grandfather is not one to rub it in. He 
 probably thought that Time would have changed Sir 
 Rupert."
 
 THE STRANGER WITHIN THE GATE. 97 
 
 " Else he would hardly have let you come." 
 
 "There was no question of letting. He would have 
 thought it my duty. Beyond that, I think he could 
 scarcely bear me to leave him. But still he could have 
 had no idea of the difference," said the lad impulsively. 
 
 "The difference?" 
 
 " Between what I had been used to and what I was 
 coming to. He is a saint if ever there was one. I have 
 been brought up there from babyhood, in an atmosphere 
 of peace and love for God and man. Within these four 
 walls I have never heard a rough word. We lived not in 
 luxury, indeed, for so much is given to the poor, but in 
 refinement, and among books and pictures, and all beauti- 
 ful things. And then to come to Castle Angry " 
 
 He broke off abruptly. 
 
 " Miss Brandon, I am talking freely to you, but do you 
 think my grandfather Sir Rupert, I mean is mad?" 
 
 Aline did not answer at once. Knowing, as we do, Sir 
 Rupert's wickedness, she found it difficult to speak of him 
 to his heir, who apparently knew nothing. At last she 
 answered, looking down: 
 
 " Perhaps he is. Only God knows." 
 
 "I found the place so filthy," he went on excitedly; 
 "why, a decent kennel would be sweeter and cleaner. 
 The floors are rotting, the plaster falling from the walls 
 and ceiling; everything is going to pieces with damp and 
 neglect. It is horrible, horrible!" 
 
 "Poor boy!" said Aline, turning her large limpid eyes 
 upon him; "poor boy!" 
 
 ( M 436 ) O
 
 98 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 The tears suddenly started into his eyes. He was still 
 weak, of course, from his illness, and was likely to be for 
 a long time. 
 
 " It isn't the ruin and dirt and discomfort it is other 
 things. I believe my poor grandfather is mad, and that 
 fellow Gaskin, his bailiff, if ever I saw scoundrelism in 
 a human being it is in that fellow. I flogged him soundly 
 the first day I was at Castle Angry. I found him 
 savagely ill-treating one of those wretched dogs, which 
 he had taken care to tie up securely first." 
 
 "Oh!" said Aline in a low voice, which, I am afraid, 
 trembled with pleasure. "And what did your grand- 
 father say when he heard?" 
 
 "He came out in the middle of it, and roared with 
 laughter. Gaskin was cutting capers to make anyone 
 laugh if the thing hadn't been so sickening. He's a 
 coward too. He slunk off as gray as lead when I let 
 him go. It made me feel that to flog such a creature was 
 degradation." 
 
 "Oh no," cried Aline, "surely not! It was right to 
 make him feel something of the pain he had inflicted. 
 Still, you must be careful of the man. I am sure he 
 would make a dangerous enemy. But perhaps you will 
 not go back to Castle Angry when you leave us. You 
 will return to Warwickshire?" 
 
 A cloud came over his face. 
 
 " I think not ; my place is here. My grandfather is 
 very old, Miss Brandon, older than anyone would think. 
 His age will find him out suddenly, as age does with
 
 THE STRANGER WITHIN THE GATE. 99 
 
 people who have defied it beyond the natural time. He 
 will want me then, even if he does not want me now. 
 Think of him, old and alone, with Gaskin, in that iso- 
 lated house! No, I shall stay." 
 
 " You will be right," said Aline slowly. " But it is a 
 heavy burden for young shoulders. May God protect 
 the right!" 
 
 He looked at her gratefully. Then, with a sudden 
 impulse he took up a fold of her skirt and kissed it, and 
 Aline put her hand on his head as if she were blessing 
 him. They seemed to have forgotten me, so I just came 
 out of my corner and extended a hand to him, which he 
 took and pressed warmly. 
 
 That night when I was going to bed Aline called me 
 into her room. 
 
 " Do you know, Hilda," she said, " I never thought of 
 telling him, after all, that he was the hereditary enemy." 
 
 " No more you didn't," said I cheerfully. 
 
 Aline looked at me, and then smiled broadly. 
 
 "You didn't conduct the interview on those grounds 
 at all," said I; but all the same I felt that there might be 
 a serious side to the matter.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AN IMPOSSIBLE FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 THARLIER in the evening I had taken the opportunity 
 -Ld of being alone with Esther to tell her of our dis- 
 covery. She heard me quietly, though her eyes looked 
 startled. 
 
 " But it ought to make no difference, Hilda," she said, 
 when I had finished. " It is not his fault that he is Sir 
 Rupert's grandson." 
 
 "No, indeed," I assented, "and I am sure no one 
 would ever suppose it. Still, Aline seems to think that 
 we ought not to let him get into our lives, so to speak, 
 since it will probably be impossible to keep him there." 
 
 "To get into our lives!" Esther repeated slowly; "but 
 he only came such a little while ago! One does not 
 make a stranger part of one's life quite so soon." 
 
 I thought it might have been said as much to reassure 
 herself as me; but then, again, she might have spoken 
 quite in good faith. 
 
 " No," I answered her, " only we have so few friends 
 that it is hard to feel we must be on our guard against a 
 new one."
 
 A.N IMPOSSIBLE FRIENDSHIP. 101 
 
 For a day or two we all tried hard to obey Aline's 
 injunctions, and, without being inhospitable in any way, 
 to leave Mr. De Lacy to his own devices more than we 
 had been doing. This was comparatively easy, as he was 
 getting stronger daily, and could read for himself by this 
 time. 
 
 But we had reckoned without our guest. 
 
 The second or third time that Aline came to his sofa 
 with her inquiries, into which she had infused a little 
 shadow of formality, for she rather repented her emo- 
 tion that first day, he put a detaining hand on her arm 
 when she would have turned away. 
 
 " Miss Brandon," he cried entreatingly, " why are you 
 leaving me out in the cold? Why? I was so happy 
 before, and I have had nothing for two whole days but 
 cold politeness. What have I done?" 
 
 "Nothing," said Aline. "We want you to be happy 
 while you are here, but " 
 
 "But what?" 
 
 "We are near neighbours, Mr. De Lacy, and your 
 grandfather would tell you that friendship between the 
 De Lacys and the Brandons is impossible. We shall have 
 to be strangers when you leave us, for I don't think we 
 shall ever be enemies." 
 
 " But why is friendship impossible between us ? What 
 barrier is there? I acknowledge none, whatever my 
 grandfather may say." 
 
 He spoke peremptorily, and Aline sighed. 
 
 " It is a long story, but I have time to tell it to you
 
 102 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 this afternoon. Let me sit down, however," she said, for 
 he still clutched her sleeve. 
 
 He let her go with an apology, and Aline, drawing 
 over one of the chairs that were embroidered by dead- 
 and-gone Brandons, told him the story, only suppressing 
 any accusation of foul play against Sir Rupert. The 
 men who had been friends had become rivals and enemies. 
 Sir Rupert had acquired part of Brandon, and had be- 
 come wealthy by means of it, while Brandon had gone 
 steadily to the dogs. She left out all the darker shades 
 in the story; but, despite her kindly caution, her listener 
 filled them in for himself. As she went on, he blushed 
 and grew pale alternately. 
 
 When she had finished there was silence for a few 
 minutes. Then young De Lacy said passionately: 
 " I see you have good reason to hate me and mine." 
 "To hate you! Oh, no! How could we hate you who 
 are quite innocent? And then one does not usually 
 hate " 
 
 She paused, and he took up the sentence: 
 " Those one has done good to. But that is Christian 
 forgiveness, Miss Brandon, and I ask for more than 
 that. Listen; whatever fraud, whatever foul play my 
 grandfather used against yours, I abhor a thousand times 
 more than you do. I want none of his ill-gotten wealth. 
 He can do with it what he will. If it were mine I 
 should only strive by hook or by crook to restore it to 
 its rightful owners. Because he has done such things, 
 am I to be cut off from gratitude, from affection, from
 
 AN IMPOSSIBLE FRIENDSHIP. 103 
 
 lasting friendship to those who have nursed and sheltered 
 me? I am not. When I leave these doors you may shut 
 them against me if you will, but you cannot forbid my 
 waiting and watching till they shall open again." 
 
 He spoke with a boyish impetuosity that swept Aline 
 off her feet. 
 
 " My dear boy," she said, " why, I only wish that we 
 might be friends. Don't you see that it is because we 
 mustn't be friends that I try to keep our liking and 
 intimacy from taking too strong a hold upon us." 
 
 " You are not likely to like me too much," he said 
 bitterly. " The kin of the lamb do not love overmuch 
 the wolf that devoured it." 
 
 " We could like you very well," said Aline simply, " but 
 we must not." 
 
 He turned away his head disconsolately. 
 
 " I will take myself off as soon as I can, Miss Brandon," 
 he said with a coldness which did not serve to hide his 
 pain. " I dare say Dr. Rivers will let me go to-morrow. 
 I have been a trouble to you too long." 
 
 All Aline's tender sympathies swung round to him 
 sharply. 
 
 " Oh, no!" she said; " you will stay till the doctor thinks 
 you are quite able to go, and that will not be to-morrow, 
 or for many to-morrows." 
 
 " I shall go," he said obstinately, " unless you can treat 
 me as you did up to the day before yesterday. Don't 
 you see that I can't accept your goodness and endure 
 your coldness. I should go, if it meant my death."
 
 104 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " There, there," said Aline soothingly. " I shall not be 
 cold to you, and you must stay till you are quite well 
 able to go. I don't suppose Castle Angry would be quite 
 the best place for an invalid." 
 
 She said it with a deprecating smile. 
 
 " No," he answered seriously, " I don't think at all that 
 I should get well there. But when I leave here it must 
 be for Castle Angry all the same." 
 
 So it came that our precautions were set at nought. 
 Aline had told the younger ones who our visitor was, 
 but it had not seemed to impress them very much. We 
 had no hereditary hatred in our veins; and the boys, who 
 listened with delight to his spirited accounts of big foot- 
 ball and cricket matches, of the life of a public school, 
 and such things, pronounced him no end of a jolly good 
 fellow, quite irrespective of the fact of his being a De 
 Lacy. The little girls, too, usually so shy and strange, 
 had made friends with him, and played interminable 
 games of dominoes and chess beside his sofa, evening after 
 evening. 
 
 As he grew stronger and was able to stay up later, his 
 sofa grew to be, in a way, the centre of things in the big 
 drawing-room. We could not very well be at one end 
 and he at the other, and of course we all converged to- 
 wards the fire, near which his sofa was drawn. There 
 was no doubt at all that he had very attractive ways, 
 gentle, well-bred, and gracious; and we all grew to like 
 him very much indeed. 
 
 But there were no more of these readings of poetry.
 
 AN IMPOSSIBLE FRIENDSHIP. 105 
 
 I took care of that. I noticed, too, that Esther seemed 
 now to be the one he had least to say to, which pleased 
 me well. After all, that look I had caught that day I 
 read Maud might have meant nothing, or only the 
 strong admiration which Esther must awaken in the 
 breast of anyone with a feeling for beauty. Daily she 
 grew more beautiful. She seemed to glow in the shadowy 
 corners which she always selected for herself, like a deep 
 damask rose half-hidden in leaves. I seemed never to 
 have understood my sister's beauty before. 
 
 At last Dr. Rivers pronounced our visitor fit to leave 
 us. He had known for some time who the young fellow 
 was, and having, like all the country-side, heard strange 
 stories of Angry, was much pleased that we gave him the 
 freedom of Brandon so long. 
 
 No word was sent to Sir Rupert of his heir's illness or 
 return. 
 
 " He has not shown so much solicitude," said the boy, 
 reddening, " that we need consider him in the matter, 
 nor is he likely to find the joy of my return too great a 
 shock." 
 
 The boys did not seem to understand at all that with 
 their friend's going the pleasant friendship must come to 
 an end. Aline postponed telling them so till he should 
 be gone, and there was a sadness in hearing them make 
 their plans for the future which should include him. 
 At such times he would say nothing, only look his 
 pitiful appeal at Aline, who would refuse to answer his 
 eyes.
 
 106 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 At the last he made a last appeal that we should not 
 exclude him. 
 
 "You could only come by concealing it from Sir Rupert," 
 she made answer. " Don't you see that we couldn't en- 
 dure that?" 
 
 A spark of hope leaped into his eyes. 
 
 "But if my grandfather were willing?" 
 
 " You don't know him," said Aline, " or you would not 
 think it possible." 
 
 He went off in the station fly one day, with his beauti- 
 ful Red Rover following, led by Lanty M'Goldrick from 
 the village. As we turned into the house after watching 
 him till the last glimpse faded in the long line of the 
 avenue, we felt as sad as if someone had died. Only the 
 boys still thought they were to keep their friend. 
 
 Aline told them afterwards, and at first they were 
 sulky and inclined to be rebellious. Presently they saw 
 she was right, and came back to their own sunny selves. 
 
 " Why, after all," said Hugh hopefully, " the old duffer 
 won't live for ever." 
 
 "Any night," added Donald, "he and James Gaskin 
 might burn up old Angry and themselves together." 
 
 "Donald!" cried Aline, shocked. 
 
 " I mean, of course, after Harry had had time to get 
 out," said the culprit innocently. 
 
 The twins didn't say anything; it wasn't their way; 
 but I think they missed their friend very much. They 
 went about for some days, a forlorn-looking little pair, 
 with their hands clasped tighter than ever. They were
 
 AN IMPOSSIBLE FRIENDSHIP. 107 
 
 not quite consoled till a day came that brought a beauti- 
 ful box of games, and a pair of most ingenious sister- 
 dolls, which could only be from Mr. De Lacy. Hugh got 
 a new gun and Donald a fishing-rod on the same mo- 
 mentous day. They wanted to write and thank their 
 friend, but Aline thought it better not, as she was not 
 sure of the letter reaching the right hands. He had said 
 he would expect no answer, in the brief note he had 
 written to Aline from Angry, and which had ended: 
 " Tell Miss Hilda and Miss Esther that I shall never for- 
 get them ". 
 
 After that there was silence. 
 
 We often wondered how things were going with him, 
 and if he were getting well in that gray old house that 
 frowned ever blacker and blacker in the gorge of the 
 mountain. But we had no means of knowing, and our 
 lives gradually went back to their old uneventfulness. 
 
 I often laughed at myself about my fear as to Esther's 
 heart. Why, she of the whole family missed young De 
 Lacy least. She never, like the rest of us, wondered what 
 he was doing, or if he had forgotten us. But this would 
 not have set my mind at rest, only that the strange beauty 
 which had come to her of late seemed to ripen and glow 
 more, day by day. With her plainly it was no case of 
 
 Only my Love's away, 
 
 I'd as lief the blue were gray. 
 
 In the spring I took a cold, and was for a time more 
 or less kept to the house. Esther as usual took her walks
 
 108 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 abroad, and would bring me home primroses from the 
 wood, or wild anemones, daffodils, and violets from the 
 cloisters of the old abbey. She was everything that 
 was sweet to me, as always, yet I noticed that she was 
 less dependent on me than of old. In the old days, if I 
 could not be with her she, too, kept the house. But I 
 could not grudge her her walks, seeing how she came in 
 from them full of life and vigour, and would lay her 
 cold, fresh cheek to mine with such compassion for my 
 house-bound state. 
 
 Then something happened that put Harry De Lacy for 
 the time out of all our minds, for with us Brandons blood 
 is thicker than water in a truer sense than it is of most 
 families.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 FROM THE NIGHT AND THE STORM. 
 
 FOR some time Pierce's letters had been irregular, and 
 when they came had been the merest scraps, very 
 unsatisfactory to Aline, one could see, though she often 
 said that, moving about so much as he did, Pierce couldn't 
 be expected to write letters like a home-keeping woman. 
 
 Then had come a couple of months of silence, during 
 which Aline fretted visibly, at least during the latter 
 portion of the time, for of course she did not begin to 
 worry at once, and there had been the distraction of 
 young De Lacy's accident and convalescence in the house. 
 
 It was now April, and blithe, beautiful weather. The 
 smaller trees were all in leaf, and the bigger ones were 
 cloudy with the coming leafage. It was sunny every 
 day, with a touch of east wind, which brought the most 
 beautiful colours on Brandon Hill, bronzes and crimsons 
 and golds, instead of his usual soft azures. The kitchen- 
 garden was a forest of white blossom, and the apple-buds 
 were pushing open a little rosier every day. I was get- 
 ting rid of my cold, and was out walking every day on 
 the sheltered side of the house, in the gardens, or on the 
 grassy terrace overlooking the rose-garden.
 
 110 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 I came on Oona one day in the kitchen-garden picking 
 spinach into her apron. 
 
 "Why, Oona," I said, "you are going to give us an 
 early dish. I thought you wouldn't be putting it on the 
 table for a fortnight yet." 
 
 " There'll be a stranger to dinner, Miss Hilda. Three 
 nights running I've dreamt of a man dressed in black, 
 but the face of him I couldn't see, coming in over the 
 threshold stone, and this morning there was a stranger 
 in my tea-cup, so there's someone coming over the hill." 
 
 "And you've picked the spinach because of your 
 dreams." 
 
 " Yes, and killed a pair of chickens. One of them was 
 a pullet, but as she'd learned to crow it couldn't be lucky 
 to keep her. Chickens, an' a bit o' bacon, an' a dish o' 
 spinach is good feeding for anybody, if it was Miss Freda 
 or Master Pierce even." 
 
 " Your banshee never came to anything, Oona," I said. 
 
 " The year's not out, Miss Hilda," she answered solemnly. 
 
 But I was not to be depressed by Oona's superstitions 
 this bright spring morning, so I went off laughing, and 
 left her shaking her old head in its snowy cap-frills. 
 
 The day passed without event, and it was late after- 
 noon. Esther was still out, and I had thought I would 
 go a little way to meet her, so after Aline had wrapped 
 me up in a soft old Indian cashmere shawl, and enjoined 
 on me not to go too far, I started off down the avenue. 
 I went farther, perhaps, than I intended, for I expected 
 Esther to come in sight at every turn. Anyhow all at
 
 FROM THE NIGHT AND THE STORM. Ill 
 
 once I felt a little tired, and so sat down on the mossy 
 trunk of a fallen tree to wait for her. The evening was 
 rosy now, and translucent yellow, and palest green, and 
 Brandon had flushed rosy pink, and was wearing the 
 evening star in his hair. 
 
 " If she doesn't come soon," said I, " I must turn back." 
 
 And just at that moment I heard, in the silence, wheels 
 and the trotting of a horse's hoofs on the road. The 
 sound was coming nearer every minute, and was suf- 
 ficient of a novelty to attract my attention, for, as I have 
 said before, the road to Brandon led nowhere but to 
 Brandon, the only exit from it, after Brandon gates, 
 being a horrible rutty boreen, too narrow for anything 
 but the smallest donkey-cart. 
 
 "Hullo!" said I to myself I have learnt slang from 
 the boys, you see "Oona's stranger, for a ducat!" and I 
 began to feel rather excited. 
 
 With the sensitive hearing of a country-girl, I could 
 follow the sound of the car through its many windings 
 and turnings, and could even catch the murmur of voices 
 when the turning was towards Brandon, and not away 
 from it, or in a hollow. 
 
 Presently there was a pause, and I knew the car had 
 stopped at the gate, and that the driver was leading his 
 horse through, for our last lodge-keeper, Larry Heffer- 
 man, had been dead two years, and we had not filled his 
 place. Then I heard the car coming on towards me up 
 the avenue. 
 
 I listened in strained expectancy, still keeping my
 
 112 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 place on the log. It came nearer and nearer. Then it 
 turned on to the long straight bit at the other end of 
 which I was sitting. There was one person on it besides 
 the driver a tall man, much muffled, despite the clemency 
 of the April evening. As they came near me I saw him 
 lean across and speak to the driver. Then the car stopped 
 and he alighted slowly and painfully, and, taking a bag 
 from the seat, came on to where I was sitting, while the 
 car turned round and drove slowly off. 
 
 The man came up to me and stopped. I could scarcely 
 see his face, for the muffling and the soft hat. But there 
 was something familiar about it, and yet unfamiliar, 
 which made me jump up, trembling slightly. 
 
 "Why, it is little Hilda!" said the man, and with the 
 sound of his voice uncertainty vanished. 
 
 " Oh, Pierce," I cried, " Pierce ! How glad Aline will 
 be!" And then I added, nearly in the same breath: 
 
 "But what have you been doing to yourself? You 
 are not the Pierce that went away. Have you been ill, 
 Pierce?" 
 
 He stooped and kissed me and laughed. 
 
 " Five years make a difference in a man's looks, little 
 woman;" and then he coughed a hard dry cough, which 
 seemed to be tearing through flesh and bone. 
 
 " And how are they all ? How is Aline ? And you and 
 Essie, and the twins, and the boys, and Freda?" 
 
 He pushed the soft hat off his head, drew a long 
 breath, and looked all around him. Five years! Ah! it 
 might have been twenty-five, so great was the difference.
 
 FROM THE NIGHT AND THE STORM. 113 
 
 This was not our Pierce, this hollow-eyed, gaunt-cheeked, 
 white-lipped stranger. He looked taller too by a head, 
 but that might have been because he was very thin. 
 
 "Dear Heaven!" he said, "how sweet it is to be at 
 home! How often I have longed for a sight of old 
 Brandon there, and to smell these delicious woods!" 
 
 He patted my hand, which he still held, softly. 
 
 " Come along, little girl, let us get home. I've been ill, 
 and am ordered to be out only in the sun. How fortunate 
 that you should have been mooning down here! I didn't 
 want to go in on Aline suddenly, with this sick man's 
 face." 
 
 So he did know that he was looking very ill. What 
 matter ? Home air and tender nursing and good feeding 
 would soon make him the old Pierce again. 
 
 He would have taken up his bag, but I pushed away 
 his hand from it. 
 
 " One of the boys will run down for it," said I. " It is 
 as safe till they fetch it as the Bank of Ireland." 
 
 There was still no sign of Esther, and we walked on 
 towards the house. We met no one to be surprised at 
 my return with a stranger's arm about me. Poor Pierce ! 
 Being so near me, I could hear the painful catching of 
 his . breath as he walked, and now and again he had to 
 pause to recover himself. 
 
 The hall-door stood open as usual, and I brought him 
 into the drawing-room, which was unoccupied, and to a 
 comfortable chair. He sank into it without a word, but 
 a quivering sigh told me how delicious its restf ulness was. 
 
 (M436) H
 
 114 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " Now rest," said I, " and I will fetch Aline." 
 
 "You will tell her, little Hilda?" 
 
 " Yes; I will tell her that you have been ill, and have 
 come home to be made well." 
 
 But all the way upstairs Oona's story of the banshee 
 would haunt me, though I put out two hands to drive it 
 away. 
 
 I found Aline writing labels for the rhubarb and par- 
 snip wine Oona was making. She looked up at me with 
 a questioning smile, and I noticed that she was not look- 
 ing well. I sat down on the arm of the chair and kissed 
 her ear. 
 
 "What is it?" she said. "Have you had a nice walk, 
 and found Essie as you expected?" 
 
 " I didn't wait for her. I I found news." 
 
 Her eyes opened wide and startled. 
 
 "News!" she repeated after me. "Of Pierce? It 
 could only be of Pierce. What news, Hilda? Not bad 
 news?" 
 
 " Good news, darling." 
 
 " Oh, Hilda, he is coming home ! I know by your face. 
 Tell me. Oh ... he is come!" 
 
 " He is come," said I; "but wait, don't rush away like 
 that. He has been ill, and has come home to get well. 
 I was to tell you he was looking ill You mustn't be 
 startled at the change in him, nor startle him." 
 
 But Aline was already on her way to the door, and I 
 followed her as fast as I could. After all, she would 
 have time to get over the shock of his appearance
 
 FROM THE NIGHT AND THE STORM. 115 
 
 gradually, for now the kindly twilight would soften it 
 down. 
 
 She went straight to the drawing-room, and I followed 
 her, with an irrational fear lest she might want me. I 
 saw Pierce stand up and lean on a near table, as if he 
 felt faint. Then Aline put her arms round him with a 
 sharp cry of love and pity, and I went out and closed 
 the door. 
 
 Half an hour later Pierce came into the dining-room, 
 
 O 7 
 
 and was installed in a big chair by the brisk little wood- 
 fire, which had been lit because the nights turned chilly. 
 He had had a wash and a brush-up, and looked better 
 than when I had seen him first, and because he had been 
 ill there was a little table set beside him, to which we 
 carried the dainty bits of the chicken and the delicacies 
 which Oona had hastily served up. 
 
 The young ones, of course, could not see how woefully 
 Pierce was changed, which was a relief to us. Now that 
 the lamp was lit I could mark the changes in his face. 
 He had left us a sunny- hearted, sunny-faced boy. Now 
 some immense trouble had drawn a myriad fine lines on 
 the skin that had been so smooth. When, for a moment, 
 it relaxed into quietness, it wore a curiously tragic expres- 
 sion. More than illness had been at work on that face. 
 I, in my dim corner, wondered and wondered what the 
 years had held for him to change him so greatly. 
 
 Aline had taken the shock of his changed looks well. 
 I think her secret fear for him out in the briers and
 
 116 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 thorns of the world had been so great, that to have him 
 at home was for the time being joy enough. He himself 
 seemed to think that all he needed to get well was 
 Brandon, and she was only too glad to believe him. 
 
 And now Oona came to our help with all the knowledge 
 and love that is in her faithful old heart. After a night's 
 rest, Pierce, who seemed overjoyed to be back again, was 
 for all sorts of exertions and expeditions, as if he were a 
 strong man. But Oona put down her foot. 
 
 " Breakfast in bed, Miss Aline," she said, " and if the 
 day's fine an' warm you can get down the little sofa Miss 
 Hilda had when her foot was bad, an' when Mr. Pierce is 
 dressed he can lie on it in the verandy. He'll have to 
 be stronger before he goes racketin" an' tearin' round 
 the place like them young colts o' boys." 
 
 Aline acquiesced silently, but when she was telling 
 Pierce the arrangements that had been made for him, she 
 added: 
 
 "You must rest well, you see, after the fatigue of the 
 voyage, and be patient, and do as Oona bids you." 
 
 He laughed with some of his old merriment. 
 
 " I have always done as Oona bid me. And though I 
 feel as strong as a horse this morning, she is probably 
 right. I used to think, on the way home, that I should 
 never be able to get rest enough." 
 
 After that the days passed, and Pierce seemed to have 
 accepted the invalid's part even gratefully. I would 
 have said he was quite content, except that once or twice 
 he reproached himself for being an expense to us.
 
 FROM THE NIGHT AND THE STORM. 117 
 
 " I am a useless beggar, little Hilda," he said to me one 
 day when I was alone with him, "and I am bitterly 
 ashamed to have come home empty-handed. I fought 
 against that as long as I could, so long that it was near 
 being a case of never coming home at all." 
 
 " Oh, Pierce, that would have been the real cruelty and 
 the real wrong!" I cried out. 
 
 " I felt that, Hilda. I thought it would be the cruellest 
 wrong of all if I were to die out there, and leave Aline 
 the heritage of that eternal sorrow. I kept hoping that 
 things would be better. Indeed, Hilda, I endured much 
 before I made up my mind to come. Yet I always knew 
 that, in a certain contingency, I would come, and for 
 that I kept my passage-money inviolate, even when I 
 was starving." 
 
 "Starving, Pierce?" 
 
 "Yes, child, starving, like many a better man. Pri- 
 vation paved the way for sickness with me. But you 
 will not tell Aline, nor anyone else. I don't want to 
 squirm under my punishment, which I richly deserved. 
 And I would not have Aline's tender heart wrung after- 
 wards to think upon such things." 
 
 " She need never know," I said. " We will make you 
 well, Pierce, and Aline will be happy." 
 
 Then I saw a light of exaltation break over his face. 
 
 " Life and death are in God's hands, little one," he said, 
 " and if it is death for me, I shall not repine. It may 
 happen to a man to save his soul alive in the very gates 
 of death."
 
 118 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 I said nothing. With that light on his face I could 
 not talk of death as if it were the last evil 
 
 " I have known worse than death," he went on dreamily, 
 " but the knowledge shall die with me. God knows it is 
 no merit of mine that I did not give my immortal soul 
 for the asking. I have been snatched out of the gates 
 of hell, little Hilda, and shall I be afraid of the Valley of 
 the Shadow? Ah! there are terrible things in the world 
 out there, crueller than wolves, deadlier than ser- 
 pents." 
 
 We were silent for a time. Pierce had turned his face 
 away, and when he looked at me again I could have 
 thought there were tears in his eyes, but perhaps it was 
 because I was crying myself. 
 
 "You see, there is nothing to be sad about," he said 
 softly, "even if I am very ill. There is more joy in 
 heaven, ah, yes! and if there is joy in heaven, is there 
 not cause for joy on earth? Believe me, child, there is 
 no real sadness, no real sorrow on earth, except sin. All 
 else that seems sad to us is because we see as in a glass, 
 darkly." 
 
 I never found Pierce in this mood again. And I 
 believe I was the only one to whom he said so much, for 
 he had the tender compassion for Aline that would not 
 leave her the memory of great sorrow. 
 
 Only once afterwards did he touch upon those years. 
 
 " Desmond would have saved me, Hilda," he said sud- 
 denly one day, "and I would not be saved. When I 
 am gone I want you to write to Desmond, and tell him
 
 FROM THE NIGHT AND THE STORM. 119 
 
 that I knew at last he was right, and that I died loving 
 and thanking him. You will do that for me, Hilda?" 
 
 I said I would do it, and he was satisfied. It was 
 curious that he should have chosen me for his confidant 
 about such things. I know he did not talk to Aline, 
 close as the bond was between them, as if he did not 
 expect to live. 
 
 Good old Oona surpassed herself in those days after 
 Pierce came home. I had rather feared her superstitions, 
 the superstitions the peasants love; but if she felt them 
 she did not impart them to me. She was indefatigable 
 in compounding dainty dishes to tempt Pierce's weak 
 appetite, and she brought out of her stores of knowledge 
 wonderful recipes for healing and strengthening. 
 
 But as the days turned round to summer, Pierce did 
 not grow stronger.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 JL FAIRY GODMOTHER 
 
 OLD Dr. Devine had seen Pierce soon after his return, 
 very much against our invalid's wishes. He had not 
 enlightened us much, nor given us much comfort. 
 
 " Go on as you are doing," he had said to Aline in his 
 fat, comfortable way. "Plenty of port wine and fresh 
 eggs, and keep him from taking cold." 
 
 But so much we had known before, and at Pierce's 
 earnest request we had troubled Dr. Devine no further. 
 
 " Hilda," said Esther to me one day, " do you remember 
 that when your foot was so bad Aline sold her collet to 
 get you the best doctor that could be procured for money ?" 
 
 "Could I forget it? "said I. 
 
 "Well, don't you think that something ought to be 
 done for Pierce in the same way?" 
 
 " Yes," said I, " but how are we to raise the money ? 
 I do think Freda ought to help us." 
 
 "I believe Aline thought the same thing when she 
 wrote to her all about Pierce's illness, but Freda evidently 
 thinks differently. Do you remember how generous 
 Freda once was?"
 
 A FAIRY GODMOTHER. 121 
 
 " Yes," said I wisely, " but then she was a girl. I believe 
 she has grown selfish for that child. There, I have said 
 it, and it is the first time any of us have. What is the 
 use of our going about wondering at Freda in our secret 
 hearts and shutting our lips upon it?" 
 
 " It is strange about her. However, Hilda, if she will 
 not help, we must. We must sell our sapphires." 
 
 " Would they bring much ? They are heavy and old- 
 fashioned." 
 
 " I daresay they are rather ugly, but they will sell for 
 the stones. We won't ask Aline. She would sell her 
 own things, but she would feel our parting with ours. 
 Once it is irrevocable, she will be glad." 
 
 We went upstairs and took out our parures, and looked 
 at them with a little melancholy. They were our only 
 jewels of value, and though we never had any occasion 
 for wearing them, we had always felt that some day the 
 occasion might come. Now that we were going to give 
 them up they seemed beautiful, glowing deeply against 
 the white velvet of their cases. We had each a necklet 
 and pendant, a brooch and ear-rings, and a bracelet. 
 Esther, in addition, had a little tiara of the stones set 
 round with small diamonds. 
 
 " But how are we to sell them?" I asked. 
 
 "I have thought of that," said Esther. "If we ask 
 Mr. Benson he will sell them for us to the Dublin gold- 
 smith from whom he bought his new altar-plate. There, 
 shut them up, Hilda dear. We have not needed them 
 all the years, and we are not going to miss them now."
 
 122 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 She went off to see Mr. Benson that afternoon, with the 
 cases in brown paper under her arm. We felt like a pair 
 of conspirators; but Pierce must have his doctor and all 
 the things he needed, and I think the sacrifice made us 
 both happy, once it was over and done with. 
 
 Mr. Benson accepted the commission when it had been 
 explained to him that the things were really and truly 
 our own, and that there was such sore need for money at 
 Brandon. 
 
 A few days later Esther went over to the Rectory for 
 the goldsmith's answer. It was nearly dinner-time when 
 she came back, and I was washing my hands upstairs in 
 my own room when she came in, still wearing her hat, 
 and laid down something on the table. My heart sank, 
 for it looked uncommonly like our jewel-cases, only not 
 quite so thick. 
 
 "Ah!" said I to myself, "so the old things were worth- 
 less after all ; and Pierce must go without his doctor, and 
 his port wine, and game, and all the things that may save 
 his life!" 
 
 But Esther, who had not spoken, had locked the door 
 and returned to the table. She had bright spots of 
 excitement in each cheek, and as I dried my hands on the 
 towel and came towards her she put down a heavy, 
 lumpish parcel on the table, and, reaching for my scissors 
 with a hand that trembled, she cut the cord, opened a 
 little bag that was inside, and spilt the contents on the 
 table. I was so near screaming out at the sight that. I 
 had to clap both hands on my mouth. There, on the
 
 A FAIRY GODMOTHER. 123 
 
 table, glittering before me, was a substantial heap of sov- 
 ereigns a great heap, it seemed to me at the first glance. 
 
 "One hundred pounds!" said Esther in an exultant 
 voice. " Actually a hundred pounds for the old sapphires! 
 That dear Mr. Benson went to the bank and cashed the 
 cheque, and got it all in gold, knowing it would delight 
 us so." 
 
 " And to think they've been lying there so uselessly all 
 those years!" said I. 
 
 " They could never have served us as they will now," 
 said Esther again; and we both stood gloating over that 
 heap of sovereigns as though we were a pair of misers. 
 
 Then Esther began putting back the gold again in the 
 little bag which had held it. When she had drawn the 
 strings and wrapped it in its outer covering of brown 
 paper my eye fell on the other square-shaped parcel. 
 
 "What is this?" I asked. 
 
 " Oh, Hilda," said Esther, rather guiltily, " Mr. Benson 
 thought we would not sell both parures till we saw what 
 one would fetch! He guessed the stones were valuable. 
 So I have brought back yours." 
 
 Well, for the moment I felt nothing but vexation, 
 which quite put out of my mind the fact that it had 
 been rather a wrench to give up the sapphires. 
 
 " You wretched, mean girl!" said I. " You know it was 
 my place to give the sapphires, seeing what Aline had 
 done for me. You should have kept yours. What use 
 are jewels to me, seeing that even if we were asked to balls 
 and such things I would have no place there?"
 
 124 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 "Hush, hush, Hilda!" said Esther in her gentle way. 
 " Your jewels may be wanted later; and in any case mine 
 were the more valuable, and brought in the bigger sum." 
 
 Now I'm afraid this makes us seem rather unnatural, 
 for girls, by nature, love their pretty things; only, you 
 see, as we were both well on in the twenties, and had 
 never had an opportunity of wearing jewels, and never 
 seemed likely to have, the things were not of so much 
 account in our happiness. Besides, money was wanted 
 so sorely that the old jewels counted for very little by 
 comparison. 
 
 "I shall never need mine, never!" said Esther, with 
 conviction. 
 
 " And in any case mine are yours," added I. 
 
 Then we went down to Aline and spilled the money in 
 her lap. We were a little nervous about acting on our 
 own responsibility, so we blurted the story out in a great 
 hurry; and then, when Aline would have held up horror- 
 stricken hands at the loss of the sapphires, we simply 
 cried out, " It is for Pierce, you know, for Pierce," and so 
 silenced her. 
 
 We kept from Pierce the secret of how the Dublin 
 doctor's fee was paid, but all the same he was vexed and 
 disturbed when he heard that we had sent for him. The 
 great man came and went, and left us sadder than before. 
 Whatever hopes we had had from his visit were dissipated 
 in thin air after he had gone. 
 
 "I can give you no hope of your brother's ultimate 
 recovery," he had said to Aline. " Constant and tender
 
 A FAIRY GODMOTHER. 125 
 
 care may keep him with you a little while, but the 
 mischief is too deep-rooted for our skill to reach." 
 
 He had looked at her compassionately out of his stern 
 gray eyes and pressed her hand in silence. After all, we 
 had known it all the time, had known we were only 
 buoying ourselves up with faint hopes. 
 
 "How long?" said Aline. 
 
 "Perhaps a twelvemonth," said the doctor, "perhaps 
 not so long." 
 
 After he had gone we left Aline alone, as she asked us. 
 She wanted to gain composure before she went back to 
 Pierce. In her little octagon room, holy with -the atmo- 
 sphere of her prayers and long patience, we left her to gain 
 courage and comfort from the Source. Our hearts were 
 heavy for her, but we knew her Comforter would not 
 fail Meanwhile I went back to Pierce with a foot that 
 lagged and a face that vainly strove for a show of cheer- 
 fulness. 
 
 It was June then, and Pierce was out every day, sitting 
 in a comfortable wicker-chair under the shade of limes. 
 He certainly looked less ill than when he had come home, 
 but that might be because he was rested and refreshed 
 now, and his mind at ease to be among his own people. 
 
 I sat down on the rug at his feet, being glad not to 
 meet his eyes, but he leant forward and pulled my face 
 round towards him. As he did so I lost my hard-won 
 composure. 
 
 "What, tears!" he said, and smiled. He was the only 
 one of us had heart to smile that day.
 
 126 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " The doctor's been telling you that I've got my march- 
 ing orders?" he said. 
 
 I bowed my head silently. 
 
 "I wish you could come over here and stand beside 
 me " he spoke as if an immense gulf divided us, " and 
 see from my side how death looks. There would be 
 nothing to cry about, little Hilda." 
 
 I answered by a half-stifled sob. 
 
 "My only trouble is," he said, "that I cause you all 
 sorrow. I meant to have done so much for this old place 
 and all of you once, and I have done nothing but drag 
 myself home to be a burden on you all, and then to grieve 
 you by my death. And yet if you could know, little 
 Hilda, how impossible it was for me to take up life again 
 in the old way, you would understand how glad I am to go." 
 
 Still I could not answer him. 
 
 He spoke again with a curious strength and will that 
 for the moment made his voice like the voice of one in 
 health. 
 
 " There must be no more doctors, Hilda. Even if it 
 comforts Aline I cannot have it. You must let me go 
 quietly. God knows that in being here I have more 
 happiness than I deserve." 
 
 I followed his eyes as they gazed around. The great 
 lime was flinging wavering shadows on the grass. The 
 sun was very hot, but under the shelter of the tree a cool 
 wind had strayed in, and flapped about with half-folded 
 wings. And facing Pierce as he sat was Brandon, blue 
 as forget-me-nots.
 
 A FAIRY GODMOTHER. 127 
 
 A day or two later we had accepted with what resigna- 
 tion we might the knowledge that Pierce's time with us 
 was to be but short. It is wonderful how one grows 
 used to such things. Troubles that, imagined, we would 
 have said we could not endure, we accept in a few hours, 
 and go about, not only living, but carrying out the usual 
 routine of life, as if the thing had always been so. 
 
 About a week after the Dublin doctor's visit there 
 dropped a new friend out of the clouds. I was with 
 Aline one day, and she was snipping off withering roses 
 into a basket from the bushes close to where Pierce was 
 sitting. To us came the newest of our small handmaidens 
 for Oona keeps up an incessant change in much tre- 
 pidation, and holding a card between her finger and thumb. 
 Aline took it, and looked at it in surprise. Then she 
 walked up to Pierce. 
 
 " Why, Pierce," she said, " here is old Lady O'Brien 
 come home to Annagower, and come to make a call. I 
 thought she was dead long ago." 
 
 "So did I," said Pierce. "We used to call her the 
 Fairy Godmother when we were small. I thought she 
 was enormously old then." 
 
 " She has been out of these parts a long time," said 
 Aline. " But I must not keep her waiting. However, I 
 shall have to wash my hands. Hilda dear, would you 
 mind going in to the old lady till I can come? I wish 
 Esther were not out, for Lady O'Brien is her godmother." 
 
 "She has only gone to see Oona's cousin, Mary," said I, 
 " and may come in at any minute."
 
 128 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 I found a very tiny old lady sitting in the biggest 
 chair in the drawing-room. She had a foreign -looking 
 big black hood pulled over her face, out of which twinkled 
 her bright eyes, set in a delicate little old white face. 
 
 " Well, my dear," she said, "which of the girls are you? 
 and why didn't you come at once, instead of keeping me 
 waiting?" 
 
 " I am Hilda, Lady O'Brien, and I came as quickly as 
 I could. But we were at the far end of the rose-garden 
 with Pierce when your card came, and I can't walk very 
 quickly. Aline will be here in a moment. She was 
 gardening, and had to wash her hands." 
 
 "Why can't you walk quickly?" snapped the old lady. 
 
 "I am a little lame," I explained. 
 
 " Now, how do you come to be that? Mary Brandon's 
 children were born without blot or blemish. What mis- 
 chief were you up to to lame yourself, child?" 
 
 " We went to the races without leave, and fell into a 
 ditch on the way home." 
 
 " Indeed, then, you've been too much punished, for I've 
 been doing things without leave all my life, and here I 
 am with all my teeth and my eyesight, and my hair and 
 complexion, at seventy years of age. But never mind," 
 she added consolingly, " 'tis only a pretty bit of a limp 
 after all. Not so long ago it was fashionable to be a bit 
 lame, because one sweet woman was so." 
 
 At that moment Aline came in, and was called over to 
 kiss the old ivory face in its black hood. 
 
 "You're the image of your grandmother, my dear,"
 
 A FAIRY GODMOTHER. 129 
 
 said the old lady graciously ; " and when we were both 
 brides together we divided the county into factions about 
 our beauty, though you wouldn't think it now to look at 
 me. Eh, what?" 
 
 "This exclamation was addressed to me. I had just 
 said in a low voice that I could well believe the old lady's 
 statement. I repeated the speech, to her delight. 
 
 " Well done!" she cried. "You've a pair of eyes in your 
 head, madam." 
 
 Then she turned to Aline in her quick way, which re- 
 minded me of a bird pecking. 
 
 " I suppose you wonder where I've come from after all 
 those years?" 
 
 " I hope you've come back to Annagower to stay." 
 
 " To make my exit, my dear. I've been racketing all 
 those years up and down the world, and now I've come 
 back to ' make my soul '. Ireland's a pleasant place to 
 die in." 
 
 " You don't look like dying," said Aline with truth. 
 
 "Nor feel like it, my dear; but I am an old woman 
 seventy years of age. I thought I'd like to lie beside 
 poor Sir Peter at the last, though it's so long since he 
 went he must have given up expecting me, poor man. 
 But where's my girl?" she asked with startling sudden- 
 ness; "I don't see her yet." 
 
 " Esther?" said Aline. " She is out, Lady O'Brien, but 
 I hope she will be in before you go. Now, you'll have 
 some tea," for at this moment little Annie appeared 
 with the tea-tray, casting at the same time alarmed 
 
 ( M 436 ) I
 
 130 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 glances at the old lady, who indeed looked exactly like a 
 witch. 
 
 " If it's fresh and well-made, my dear, and you can give 
 me cream with it. My doctor-man at Monte Carlo has 
 absolutely forbidden me tea, so that if I am to ruin my 
 stomach it must be for something worth having." 
 
 " You could have milk if you preferred it," suggested 
 Aline. 
 
 "I haven't cut my second milk-teeth yet, my dear. 
 Thank you, that looks very nice. Gebhardt, the doctor- 
 man, was rather a fool. I often told him so. But, bless 
 you, doctors must be saying something." 
 
 Lady O'Brien was graciously pleased to approve of the 
 tea and the thin brown bread-and-butter, for which she 
 displayed a most youthful appetite. When she had 
 finished she dusted off the crumbs from her silk lap. 
 
 " Well, I suppose I must be going," she said, " for there 
 are Daisy and Dobson both fast asleep in the sun, though 
 I always tell them they'll get sunstroke one day." 
 
 We followed her gaze out to the space before the 
 window, where a little basket phaeton stood, with an old 
 pony, evidently asleep, and a fat coachman, also slumber- 
 ing, as she had said. 
 
 " By the way," she said as she stood up, " where are all 
 the others? Where is the boy who was next to you ? A 
 very handsome boy he promised to be. I should like to 
 see him. I adore handsome boys." 
 
 " He is in the garden, Lady O'Brien," answered Aline, 
 sadly, " and I am sure he would like to see you. But he
 
 A FAIRY GODMOTHER. 131 
 
 is not strong." Her face quivered suddenly. "Indeed 
 his lungs are affected, and we fear he will never be very 
 well again." 
 
 The old lady's manner changed quite suddenly to one 
 of the utmost kindness and sympathy. 
 
 "Indeed, my dear," she said earnestly, "I am very 
 sorry for that. The young should be well and happy. 
 You think I might see him, hey?" 
 
 " I am sure you might," said Aline, smiling. " A visit 
 from you could do nothing but good." 
 
 So the old lady took her silver-headed cane, and pour- 
 ing out a flood of memories as she went, accompanied us 
 to the shady seat where Pierce was sitting, with my little 
 gray-headed Paudeen comfortably curled up at his feet.
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A SECRET ROOM. 
 
 WENT before to set a seat for the old lady, and to tell 
 Pierce she was coming; and indeed I had no need to 
 hurry myself, for at every bush she stopped and appeared 
 to be reciting with animation some memory of her youth. 
 At last she caught sight of Pierce and quickened her 
 pace. 
 
 " Well, young man," she said as she took the chair be- 
 side him, " the last time I saw you you were in white 
 frilled trousers and a petticoat." 
 
 But though she said it to make us laugh, I could see 
 that the shrewd old eyes looked at him with great com- 
 passion. Poor Pierce brightened up immediately. 
 
 " And the last time I saw you, Lady O'Brien, you were 
 the toast of the county and the acknowledged reigning 
 beauty." 
 
 "Hear the boy," said the old lady; "he was five years 
 old, and I was near my fifties." 
 
 She took up his hand and patted it as if he were yet 
 five. 
 
 " They tell me you're not strong. Dear, dear, how did
 
 "WHAT A FIGURE OF A MAN YOUR GRANDFATHER WAS! . . 
 I MIGHT HAVE BEEN YOUR GRANDMOTHER!''
 
 A SECRET ROOM. 133 
 
 that come? You were a beautiful strong child as I re- 
 member you." 
 
 " He went seeking his fortune in Africa," said Aline 
 quickly, "and took cold, and was neglected." 
 
 "Dear, dear!" said the old lady again, managing to get 
 a great deal of tender kindness into the simple ejaculation. 
 Then she passed easily to other subjects, seeing that we 
 could hardly bear this. 
 
 " How this garden brings me back things ! Not things 
 I'm going to tell you children about. What a figure of 
 a man your grandfather was! I remember walking by 
 his side in this very garden, and he wore a maroon silk 
 coat and silver-gray stockings. Ah, the men have no 
 such calves to show nowadays!" 
 
 She shook her old head for a minute or two. 
 
 " There," she said, " I might have been your grand- 
 mother. And poor Peter had never a calf to him at all; 
 he was beef to the heels, as they say, and he born into 
 the time of small clothes too. What's become of that 
 rapscallion De Lacy?" 
 
 " He still lives over there at Castle Angry, but he is 
 seldom seen, I believe. He keeps within his own walls," 
 said Aline. 
 
 " He hasn't found the grace of God yet?" 
 
 Aline shook her head. 
 
 " Well, well. He was always a bad lot, was De Lacy. 
 I must drive over some day and give him a bit of my 
 mind. He was in love with your grandmother, but I 
 think he had a bit of a soft place in his heart for me too."
 
 134 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " It wouldn't be safe, Lady O'Brien. Sir Rupert lives 
 in almost savage isolation, at least he did up to quite 
 recently, with barred gates and bloodhounds walking 
 about inside." 
 
 " Like an opera," said the old lady, delightedly. " But 
 why do you say up to recently? Have you any hope 
 that he has mended his ways?" 
 
 Aline told her then of young De Lacy's accident and 
 of his determination to stay at Castle Angry at all costs. 
 
 " There must be something in the boy," she commented. 
 " I must have him over to see me after I've been there. 
 Tut, tut, I'm not afraid of De Lacy or his dogs. He'll 
 keep them off me, I'll go bail" 
 
 Just then Esther came in view, coming towards us 
 down the long straight path. 
 
 " Here is Esther now, Lady O'Brien," I said. 
 
 The old lady drew out a pair of glasses attached to a 
 long tortoise-shell stick, and levelled them at poor Esther. 
 
 " H'm, h'm!" she said, apparently satisfied. " So that's 
 my girl! I have no fault to find with her." 
 
 Indeed she would have been exacting if she had, for 
 Esther's confusion only added to her beauty. When she 
 had reached us, the old lady enfolded her in a warm 
 embrace. 
 
 "I suppose you've never thought of your godmother, 
 my dear, and small blame to you. I don't believe you've 
 heard of me since I gave you your christening-mug. An 
 old hunks of a godmother, surely hey? 
 
 "Never mind," she went on, without waiting for an
 
 A SECRET ROOM. 135 
 
 answer; " I must do what I can in the time that's left me. 
 Now I'll tell you what" to Aline " I'm going to come 
 over and take this young man for drives whenever I can 
 and it's fine ; when I can't, I'll send Dobson, who's eating 
 his head off, and Daisy, who's no better. There, don't 
 thank me. It will be a blessing to give the lazy creatures 
 something to do. And you must all come over to me as 
 soon as I've shaken down a bit. Now, good-by, good- 
 by, my dears!" 
 
 She kissed us all affectionately, only extending to 
 Pierce a tiny bejewelled hand, which he, understanding 
 what was expected of him, kissed reverentially. The old 
 lady looked pleased as she went off with Aline, and as 
 for us, why, she had given us enough to talk about for a 
 week. 
 
 Aline told us afterwards how nice she had been about 
 Pierce. 
 
 "Has he had the very best doctors?" she had asked. 
 " If it is any question of expense you will trust the oldest 
 friend you have." 
 
 " Oh, indeed, Lady O'Brien," said Aline, much touched, 
 " I would trust you about anything. But we have had 
 Dr. Lee- Corny ns. I believe he is as good as any man 
 living." 
 
 "And he suggested nothing? A sea -voyage now? 
 Wouldn't that be the thing?" 
 
 "The doctor thought not. He seemed to think the 
 mischief was too far gone. He said we could do nothing 
 but take care of him and make him as happy as possible
 
 136 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 for . . . the time. Indeed, Lady O'Brien, expense would 
 not stand in the way. We would sell everything we 
 have if it could save Pierce." 
 
 "There, there, my dear. Well, if I can do anything 
 you may depend upon me. To think that that lad and I 
 are taking the same way together, the way that leads 
 away from you all. For me it is all right; I have lived. 
 But for him poor boy, poor boy!" 
 
 " He is quite happy about it, Lady O'Brien." 
 
 " Then maybe he'll teach me his happiness. I've been 
 a selfish woman, living for no one but myself all my days, 
 and now at seventy I feel as attached to the world as 
 if I was twenty -five; aye, and more attached. I'm a 
 worldling, my dear, a worldling to the core." 
 
 Every day after that, unless the rain fell, the little 
 wicker phaeton would come rattling up to Brandon, with 
 or without its mistress. If Lady O'Brien did not come 
 herself, one of us filled the vacant place in the phaeton, 
 but I am not at all sure that Pierce, though he is so 
 affectionate, did not enjoy the old lady's society more 
 than ours. 
 
 A curious and touching friendship sprang up quickly 
 between them. They never seemed to tire of each other's 
 company; and the old lady's shrewd, humorous, slightly 
 biting comments on men and things, and her glimpses of 
 the world she had left behind her, seemed to afford great 
 delight and refreshment to our poor invalid. It was 
 strange to see him so humble, so devout, so cheerfully 
 resigned to the Will that was taking him in the flower of
 
 A SECRET ROOM. 137 
 
 his youth, yet looking at the world through the eyes of 
 tolerant laughter, with which the world- worn old woman 
 presented it. 
 
 " The boy is teaching me how to die," she said to Aline 
 in one of her serious moments. 
 
 And one could scarcely doubt that she was helping 
 him in the last moments of his life, which it was his 
 desire and his will to leave with cheerful courage, and a 
 trust too great for sadness. We all grew very fond of 
 Lady O'Brien in those days. She had come in the nick 
 of time for Pierce. 
 
 She brought us all out of our shells. Once we dined 
 at Annagower, Aline and Esther and I, but only once, 
 for Aline would be with Pierce all she could, and she did 
 not like to leave him a portion of the evening alone. 
 But we often went to tea, Pierce and Aline driving, and 
 we following, Esther and I and the boys; and hugely the 
 boys enjoyed it, for Lady O'Brien had a most generous 
 idea of catering for boyish appetites. 
 
 She was still in process of settling down at Annagower, 
 and still many of the pictures and curios she had gathered 
 up stood in their cases unpacked. Part of the house was 
 yet in the hands of workmen, for it had got damp and 
 uninhabitable during the years of its mistress's absence. 
 
 It was, or is, a long, low, pleasant house, with a green 
 porch, and roses nodding at the little windowa The 
 room which I associate most with Lady O'Brien is a low- 
 ceiled panelled room, covered with Indian matting, which 
 looked so cool that hot summer. White curtains hung
 
 138 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 before the windows, through which the light came green, 
 because the gardener had been forbidden to prune the 
 roses and honeysuckle outside. The room was full of the 
 most comfortable chairs all petticoated in green and 
 white chintz, and there was old china behind the glass 
 lattices of the corner cupboards. 
 
 The twins used to say that there was no tea like Lady 
 O'Brien's, and I'm sure we all agreed with them. That 
 was an ideal tea-table, to my mind, and we were always 
 so hungry after our walk. Her continental life had not 
 taught our old lady to scrimp about honest eatables. 
 Delicious pink ham and cold fowl were flanked by thin 
 bread-and-butter, and strawberries and cream, and honey 
 and marmalade, and hot home-made cream-cakes, and 
 boiled eggs for those who liked them. And the tea, so 
 hot and fragrant, with delicious rich cream. Then our 
 hostess, though she ate little herself, expected us to eat 
 much, and was so delighted at our enormous appetites. 
 Even the twins did not scandalize her, and how they 
 could eat so much after feasting on the raspberries and 
 strawberries in the garden, was beyond me to say. 
 
 "Young people should eat," she would say, wagging 
 her old head "eat and grow: that is all young people 
 should be asked to do." 
 
 I really think that she quite put Esther and myself on 
 a level with the boys and the twins in those matters. 
 
 Then, when we were leaving, we would find in the 
 pony-carriage a little hamper packed with the dainties 
 we had been forced to leave.
 
 A SECRET ROOM. 139 
 
 " Martha would be so vexed if she thought her sweet 
 things weren't appreciated", was the regular excuse. 
 Martha was Lady O'Brien's invaluable cook, housekeeper, 
 and personal attendant; and the two had been together 
 years out of mind, though Martha was but a personable 
 woman of fifty. 
 
 Martha, indeed, would have been sorely hurt if any of 
 her confections had had to go to the kitchen to be 
 devoured by Curtis, the page-boy, whom Martha always 
 referred to as "that dratted boy", or fat Dobson, or the 
 pretty housemaid, who was the old servant's bete noire. 
 
 Then there was no end to the dainties that were sent 
 for Pierce, to Oona's mingled jealousy and delight. 
 
 Once, when we had been visiting at Annagower, Lady 
 O'Brien brought me upstairs, alone, in a rather mysterious 
 way. 
 
 "You can keep a still tongue in your head?" she asked 
 as we went along the low corridor under the thatch. 
 
 " I think so, Lady O'Brien. I have that reputation," 
 said I modestly. 
 
 " Well, you shall see my secret room," she said. 
 
 A little farther she opened the door of a room, and 
 motioned me to step inside. The room was fresh from 
 the hands of the workmen. It had a green -painted 
 ceiling following the lines of the roof, so that it was very 
 low on the side where the gable-window opened. It had 
 been papered in pink, a pretty paper with roses on it, and 
 the woodwork was white. A little brass bed, hung with 
 green and pink, stood in the corner, and there was pretty
 
 140 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 white-enamelled furniture, and several low wicker chairs 
 were covered with the rosy and green chintz. 
 
 I sighed with delight as I took a long, long look. 
 
 "You think it pretty?" inquired the old lady, who had 
 been watching me anxiously. 
 
 " Pretty! it is delicious." 
 
 " A girl would be happy in it, hey?" 
 
 " A girl would adore it," said I. 
 
 "It would be all her own. Her little bed would be 
 made, soft and white, and her books would be in the 
 book-shelf, and she would come upstairs to find her little 
 pink dressing-gown on the back of a chair, and her little 
 pink slippers to thrust her feet into, and a bunch of roses 
 on the dressing-table, and all her little fal-lals about, and 
 no one would bother or disturb her." 
 
 " She would be a very happy girl," said I, meeting the 
 old lady's rapturous gaze. 
 
 " I always wanted a girl of my own. I would have 
 known how to be good to one. But the Lord didn't see 
 fit to send me any babies. I've got this little room ready, 
 as if it were for the little daughter or granddaughter I 
 never had. I think I shall have ... a young lady . . . 
 coming soon ... on a visit." 
 
 Now I knew as well as if she had told me that all this 
 was for Esther, but I did not betray my knowledge. 
 
 " Would you think now that she'd be so happy that, 
 when she came on a visit, she'd be willing to stay alto- 
 gether?" 
 
 " I should not be at all surprised," said I.
 
 A SECRET ROOM. 141 
 
 After all, there was no reason why Esther shouldn't 
 come to Lady O'Brien and be happy. She would not be 
 far from us, and of late the close companionship that 
 used to exist between Esther and myself had somehow 
 lessened. Esther, more than of old, seemed to like to be 
 alone, and I no longer knew all her thoughts and feelings 
 as of old. I came out of the room with a little sigh, but as 
 I met the bright, wistful old eyes, I nodded reassuringly. 
 
 "There can be no doubt at all about it," said I, "no 
 doubt at all. If she could resist that room, she couldn't 
 resist the love that made it ready for her. Not if I know 
 what girls are made of." 
 
 " Thank you, my dear," said the old lady simply. " I 
 feel that she is going to stay." 
 
 She locked the door and put the key in her pocket, and 
 we rejoined the others. Of course I kept my own counsel 
 about Lady O'Brien's secret room, and gave myself up 
 more and more to the companionship of my books and 
 papers. They, at least, would not fail me. And then I 
 have always Paudeen, of whom I have been saying too 
 little in this narrative.
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 CINDERELLA. 
 
 THE summer had turned round to autumn before Lady 
 O'Brien broached her project about Esther. I think 
 She waited till she had us all bound fast to her by ties of 
 affection and gratitude. Things were much the same 
 with us, except that Pierce had grown a little thinner, 
 a little more pinched and peaked like an old man, and a 
 little weaker every day. 
 
 His couch now was in Aline's octagon room, and, though 
 the autumn was a fine one, fires were pleasant. We were 
 there one day, Pierce and I, and Paudeen at Pierce's feet. 
 A little wood fire sparkled in the grate, though outside 
 the world was full of brightness brightness of blue sky 
 and yellow sun, and golden and scarlet woods. The 
 leaves were beginning to fall, and old Brandon's shoulders 
 were visible now, where a month ago we could only see 
 the top of his head. 
 
 I was restless, and kept going round the panelling, as 
 I had so often gone fruitlessly, pressing the spines of 
 every rose, and the leaves and buds, in search of the 
 hiding-place I always said must be there. Pierce lay
 
 CINDERELLA. 143 
 
 watching me with contented eyes which had a spark of 
 amusement in them. 
 
 " I am quite sure it is here," I said, pausing opposite to 
 him. "Listen, doesn't the panel ring hollow?" 
 
 I tapped with my finger, and he listened. 
 
 " There may be only the wall behind," he said, " but it 
 certainly does ring hollow." 
 
 "If there is a hiding-place it should be easily dis- 
 covered," he said again. " I have always found a singular 
 innocence in those contrivances." 
 
 Now each panel fitted in squarely, being carved sepa- 
 rately and set into the wall, so that a door might be 
 suspected of any one of them. I went tapping and push- 
 ing in a dissatisfied way round about the room, and finally 
 came back again to the panel that rang hollow. 
 
 On the leaves in many places there were little beetles 
 of the kind we call lady-birds. They had specially ex- 
 ercised my mind, for they stood much above the surface 
 of the carving. But, after all, it was Pierce who dis- 
 covered the little door, not I. 
 
 " Do you see that fellow about the middle of the left- 
 hand side, Hilda?" he said. "Near your hand now? 
 Yes, that is the one." 
 
 " I have tried him over and over, for he has tentacles, 
 and the others have none." 
 
 " Try to twist him instead of pressing him." 
 
 I tried, and thought he moved ever so slightly. I 
 tried again: yes, there was no doubt he turned with my 
 hand, but I had little purchase on him.
 
 144 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " I know," said I. " I'll get Oona's hammer, and see 
 what that will do." 
 
 The claw-end of the hammer just caught the little 
 beetle. I gave it a wrench and a turn, and there was 
 the click of a bolt. Then, a little clink, and the panel 
 opened towards me. It was simply a door in the wall, 
 where I had been looking for a sliding panel all the 
 time. 
 
 I looked at Pierce with expectant triumph. He was 
 nearly as excited as I. The light poured full into the 
 little cupboard. There was an Indian box of lacquer 
 inlaid with mother-of-pearl and gold. A little gold key 
 stood in it. I handed it to Pierce, and drew out next a 
 pair of white gloves with tarnished gilt tassels at the 
 wrist. Then a tiny riding- whip. Next a case containing 
 a miniature of a handsome young man. That was all. 
 Not a scrap of writing not a word by which we could 
 guess at what time the girl had lived who must have 
 gone away so suddenly leaving all her treasures hidden 
 in the wall. 
 
 I opened the lacquer box with a hand that trembled. 
 Inside it was divided into little square boxes, surround- 
 ing a larger box in the middle. 
 
 " This first," said I, lifting the cover. 
 
 Within there was nothing but a faint perfumed dust 
 in the corners, and a tiny bit of blue ribbon. 
 
 "Ah! "said Pierce. "All that remains of Dulcinea's 
 breast- knot." 
 
 We opened another. Within was a tiny gold bodkin
 
 CINDERELLA. 145 
 
 and a thimble studded with turquoise. In another, an 
 old vinaigrette. In a third a mother-of-pearl bobbin 
 wound with green silk. In a fourth, a tablet of ivory, 
 with a gold pencil. The last two were empty. 
 
 " So this is all your treasure-trove," said Pierce, looking 
 down at the quaint box. 
 
 " Yes," said I, " aren't they lovely ? I am so happy to 
 have found them," for the romance of the discovery grati- 
 fied me immensely. 
 
 " I don't quite think we have found all," said Pierce, 
 who had been examining the box. " There must be a 
 tray under here." 
 
 After a little search we found the tray, which slid out- 
 ward. It was a flat receptacle for jewels, with, at one 
 corner, a diamond- shaped box like those in the upper part. 
 
 "Garnets!" cried I, in an ecstasy when the tray had 
 slid out. "They will look lovely on Esther, and will 
 make up for her sapphires." 
 
 Fortunately Pierce was too interested to notice my 
 slip. He took up the collar of garnets and looked at it. 
 
 " Exquisite setting," he said, turning it over and looking 
 at the gold honey-combing at the back. " I wonder they 
 put garnets in such a setting." 
 
 " Everything was worth doing well then," said I, lift- 
 ing up the bracelets to match. The stones were laid on 
 closely, almost like beads, except in the pendant, where 
 a heart-shaped garnet was surrounded by diamonds, 
 There was a whole set of the pretty things, including 
 stars for the hair. 
 
 ( M 436 ) E
 
 146 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " Look at their soft fires," I cried, " how they will light 
 up on Esther's creamy skin!" 
 
 " They are for Esther then?" 
 
 " Yes, I should like them to be for Esther. They are 
 mine to give, Pierce, and . . . yours." 
 
 "Oh, I waive all claim to them, little girl! What 
 should I do with garnets ? I think there's no doubt that 
 the jewels belonged to the lady who left them there, and 
 you, I should say, are her residuary legatee." 
 
 " I shall give Aline the thimble and bodkin," said I, 
 " and all the rest I shall keep myself." 
 
 " What, the tablet and the vinaigrette, and the whip 
 and gloves and the portrait! Aren't you rather greedy? 
 And the bobbin I had forgotten the bobbin." 
 
 But I saw he was laughing, and did not justify my- 
 self. 
 
 "Hullo, there is something we have forgotten!" said 
 he, lifting the little corner-box. It was detached from 
 the rest, and inside was lined softly with silk. It held a 
 lock of brown hair, tied with a piece of green silk. That' 
 was all. 
 
 I lifted the hair reverentially, and put it beside the 
 brown head of the miniature. 
 
 "Ah!" said I, "but she should not have tied it with 
 green silk. Green is so unlucky." 
 
 I put back all the things in their hiding-place, except 
 the jewels, and again slid the bolt. 
 
 " Now," I said, " no one is to know the secret, not even 
 Aline. I like to think it is mine, and yours."
 
 CINDERELLA. 147 
 
 But even as I said it I felt that it would not be his for 
 long. 
 
 " You will hoard your own treasures there," he said, 
 " and in a century or two another Hilda will come upon 
 your locks of hair, and your love-letters, and the portrait 
 of Him, and wonder about the girl who treasured those 
 things." 
 
 "What nonsense!" said I, blushing. "I shall never 
 have such things. What she will discover will be piles of 
 rejected manuscripts; and she will peep inside, and think 
 how very dull they are." 
 
 Presently Aline came in, and I told her of my discovery. 
 
 "You must make me a present of that one panel in 
 the room," said I, " but I will never tell you which one 
 it is." 
 
 " Very well, Hilda," she said, laughing. " I'm sure 
 you've earned that panel by your years of industrious 
 search." 
 
 " And here is your tribute," said I, putting the bodkin 
 and thimble into her hand. 
 
 Just then we heard that Lady O'Brien was downstairs ; 
 and, pushing the garnets into Aline's work-basket, for I 
 didn't want them to be seen till they were Esther's own, 
 I went downstairs to ask the old lady to come up. Since 
 the fire had been lit in the octagon room, and Pierce had 
 sat there, it had come to be a general assembling-place 
 for the family. 
 
 After she had greeted us all, and perched herself in 
 the big chair by Pierce, she said:
 
 148 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " You won't guess, my dears, what brings me over to- 
 day. It is to ask a favour, Aline. There is the County 
 Ball a week from now, and I want to take my god- 
 daughter." 
 
 " But Esther has never been to a ball !" 
 
 "So much I heard her say the other day. That's 
 what put it into my head. Never been to a ball! Why, 
 I had worn out hundreds of slippers dancing at balls, aye, 
 and on the hearts of my partners, before I was Esther's 
 age." 
 
 "I wonder if she would like it?" said Aline doubtfully. 
 You see it was such an unheard-of thing in our lives, 
 and there was Pierce so ill; and then how was she to get 
 a proper frock? 
 
 " Of course she will like it, not being a saint like you, 
 nor a literary woman like Hilda," said the old lady with 
 sparkling eyes. 
 
 Just then Esther appeared in the doorway. 
 
 "Come here, my dear," said the old lady, "and kiss 
 me. Now tell us, would you like to put on your glass 
 slippers, and step into my pumpkin, and be whirled off 
 to the Ball?" 
 
 " Better finish it, Lady O'Brien," said I, while Esther 
 stood turning red and white with excitement. " Cinder- 
 ella has no frock." 
 
 "Tut!" said the old lady; "that must be left to the 
 fairy godmother. . . . What do you say, my dear?" 
 to Esther. 
 
 " I've never been to a ball," said Esther nervously.
 
 CINDERELLA. 149 
 
 " Well, you're asked to one now, and what do you 
 say?" 
 
 Esther said nothing, but looked from Aline to Pierce, 
 wistfully. 
 
 " That settles it, Lady O'Brien," said Pierce, speaking 
 for the first time. "Essie would plainly like it, and she 
 must go. Thank you very much." 
 
 "About the dress," said Aline. "I don't think we 
 need trouble you, our kindest of friends. I have a few 
 lengths of silk somewhere, and we have a dressmaker 
 who can make it up. . . ." 
 
 " I have a little Frenchwoman who'll do it in half the 
 time, and with a thousandfold the wit. Put it up in a 
 parcel with an old frock of Esther's, and throw it into 
 my phaeton. There, my dear," impatiently, as Aline 
 hesitated, " don't be too proud with the oldest friend you 
 have in the world! There's a virtue in receiving as well 
 as in giving." 
 
 So Aline yielded the point, and went off to find her 
 silk. I wasn't quite satisfied about the silk myself, 
 though it was a lovely bit of old gray silk gauze, pow- 
 dered with violets. But gray is just the one colour that 
 spoils Esther's looks; and then the garnets with those 
 violets! 
 
 However, we can't have everything. I shall never 
 forget Esther's face of joy when she came timidly to ask 
 if I would lend her my sapphires, and I put the garnets 
 into her hands, and told her they were her own. 
 
 The day of the ball Lady O'Brien sent over the phae-
 
 150 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 ton for Esther with a note saying that if I would come 
 over to dine and help her to dress, they would drop me 
 at Brandon on the way back. 
 
 Now it was an ideal arrangement, for we were all 
 anxious to see Esther dressed for the ball, and more 
 especially the twins, for those little girls have a most amaz- 
 ing taste for finery, especially considering that they have 
 hardly ever seen any. 
 
 When we arrived at Annagower, we found, instead of 
 dinner, one of Lady O'Brien's delightful high teas, which 
 was much more to our taste. 
 
 " I know girls always think dinner a dull meal," said 
 our hostess. " It is only as they grow older that they 
 discover how much consolation is to be found in it." 
 
 I noticed that the old lady looked a little excited, and 
 I guessed that Esther was to be introduced to the pink 
 room that evening, and I was right. 
 
 Towards the end of the meal, to which I did justice if 
 Esther did not, Lady O'Brien left us, saying that she 
 would have Martha's services first, and that when Esther 
 rang, Martha would come and do her hair. 
 
 "But where am I to dress?" asked Esther. 
 
 " Hilda will show you the way to your room, my dear," 
 said the old lady, going off rather hurriedly, as if to avoid 
 any more questions. 
 
 Just as we had finished tea, the fat page-boy came in 
 with a little covered dish, and set it before Esther. 
 
 "Her ladyship's love," he said, with a grin, "and she 
 hopes Miss Esther will like the dish."
 
 CINDERELLA. 151 
 
 He whipped the lid off in a hurry, and there was a 
 key with a little label to it. 
 
 "What is this?" asked Esther wonderingly. 
 
 " Better read the label," said L 
 
 She read aloud, The key of Esther's room, with her god- 
 mothers love; but looked as mystified as before. 
 
 " Never mind," I said, " come and see the room ; I know 
 the way," and off we went, to the disappointment of the 
 page-boy, who would fain have seen the end of the 
 affair. 
 
 I took a lighted candle from the hall-table and led the 
 way upstairs. When we came to the door we found it 
 locked, but Esther opened it with her key. 
 
 When the door swung back she gave a little cry of 
 delight. There was a bright fire in the grate, and there 
 were wax-candles, with rose-coloured shades, lit on the 
 dressing-table. The room glowed rosily before us. I 
 led the way to the dressing-table. On the glass was a 
 piece of paper, on which was written in delicate, spidery, 
 old hand-writing. 
 
 This room and all it contains, a gift to Esther Bran- 
 don, from her old godmother. 
 
 Esther gazed at the piece of paper with her eyes full 
 of tears, yet shining, and her lips parted. 
 
 "What! all this for me!" she said incredulously. 
 
 " Yes," said I, " and more," for I had been using my 
 eyes. 
 
 On the back of a big chair by the fire was a cosy little 
 dressing-gown of soft pink stuff; and before the chair a
 
 152 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 pair of pink silk-wadded slippers thrust themselves in- 
 vitingly forward. We had hardly taken these in when 
 our eyes wandered to the bed. I took a candle hastily 
 from the dressing-table and held it high. There lay a 
 most lovely frock, short- waisted and long-skirted, of 
 palest yellow silk. Beside it a silk evening cloak, of the 
 same colour. A little away stood a pair of silk shoes, 
 flanked by silk stockings. Over the pillows lay an arm- 
 ful of under-linen, all laced and frilled in the daintiest 
 way. Not one thing had been forgotten that Esther 
 should wear that evening. 
 
 I left Esther staring, and went round the room peeping 
 here and there. Nothing had been forgotten. On the 
 toilet-table, or put away tidily in the drawers, were all 
 the requirements of a girl's toilette, hair-pins, pins, deli- 
 cate soaps, perfumes, and all manner of things. Nothing 
 seemed to have been forgotten. 
 
 " I feel like an enchanted princess," said Esther at last. 
 " But, oh, Hilda, isn't it too much ? Is it right to accept 
 so much?" 
 
 " I wish Lady O'Brien were my godmother," said I. 
 
 Just then Martha knocked at the door to know if Miss 
 Brandon would have her hair done, so we had to adjourn 
 the discussion. 
 
 Martha was certainly a very clever maid. She piled 
 Esther's hair in the most beautiful soft masses round her 
 head, seeming to bring out the bronze shades that I think 
 are so great a beauty in it. She did everything so quickly 
 and expeditiously that in a very little while Esther was
 
 "GARNETS!" SAID THE OLD LADY, PEERING CLOSELY. 
 "THEY ARE NO GARNETS."
 
 CINDERELLA. 153 
 
 dressed, and looking so grand and stately a young lady 
 as she stood in the middle of her little room that I could 
 hardly recognize her. 
 
 " I was to tell my lady when you were ready, Miss," 
 she said. " She wants to see you before you put on your 
 cloak." 
 
 And then she went out, closing the door. 
 
 I clasped on Esther's neck the collar and pendant of 
 garnets, and put the stars in her hair. They looked 
 lovely with the pale yellow, and Esther, standing there 
 with her head bent, I really thought must be one of the 
 most beautiful creatures possible. 
 
 I had hardly done before Lady O'Brien came in, ex- 
 claiming at the lateness of the hour, in order, I guessed, 
 to cover her embarrassment. But Esther ran to her and 
 put her arms round the little old lady and kissed her 
 without a word; and the two seemed to understand each 
 other perfectly. 
 
 I noticed that Lady O'Brien had carried in a little 
 packet with her, and presently, when she put back 
 Esther, and stood a little way off to look at her, I saw 
 that it was a jewel-case. Her eyes rested on the 
 garnets. 
 
 "I brought you a little string of pearls, child," she 
 said, " but you have far more beautiful jewels, and they 
 go better with your frock." 
 
 " They are garnets," said Esther, " and Hilda's gift to 
 me. I should like to wear them." 
 
 "Garnets!" said the old lady, peering closely. "They
 
 154 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 are no garnets. Take off the collar till I see it in the 
 light." 
 
 I felt much abashed, for if the things were mere glass 
 the pleasure of my gift to Esther would be gone. Lady 
 O'Brien turned them this way and that way. 
 
 "H'mph! garnets indeed!" she cried contemptuously. 
 " They are rubies, and exceedingly fine ones, if I know 
 anything about it There won't be a woman there to- 
 night with finer jewels. I'm only afraid they're too fine 
 for a girl." 
 
 Then Esther turned to me, and said that if the stones 
 were indeed rubies that they must be mine and not hers; 
 but I laughed at her, for to my mind and my love Esther 
 is far above rubies, and I told her so. 
 
 But there was no time to continue the discussion, for 
 just then the page-boy knocked at the door to say that 
 the carriage was round ; and Lady O'Brien took the cloak 
 and wrapped Esther in it with great tenderness, as if she 
 were her own child. 
 
 I noticed the pleasure and the gratitude shining in 
 Esther's eyes, and said to myself that she would not 
 refuse to become Lady O'Brien's adopted child. 
 
 What excitement there was at Brandon, where the 
 twins sat demurely on chairs against the wall of the big 
 bare drawing-room, and the boys stood on the rug pre- 
 tending to feel bored, and Aline leant on the edge of 
 Pierce's wheeled sofa, which had been brought in, all 
 waiting for Esther's appearance! And peeping in at the 
 door were Oona and her handmaidens.
 
 CINDERELLA. 155 
 
 I stood by the door, and whisked off Esther's cloak as 
 she entered. I heard the twins' rapturous groan of 
 delight, and the murmur of admiration from the others, 
 and felt a share in Esther's triumph. Withal, she looked 
 so sweet and modest, that we all felt she would never be 
 spoilt by the world or its vain praises. 
 
 "But the frock!" said Aline, bewildered. 
 
 " Ah, my dear," said Lady O'Brien, who had a bright 
 spot of excitement in each cheek, " that is a little liberty 
 of mine; and nothing at all to what I shall be taking 
 presently, nothing at all, my dear!" 
 
 " Come home early to-morrow, Essie," we cried, as the 
 carriage drove off, " and tell us all about the ball."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE. 
 
 WE expected Esther quite early in the morning to 
 tell us how she liked the world, but the morning- 
 hours passed, and lunch-time, and still she had not come. 
 
 However, just as little Annie was carrying in the big 
 tea-tray which the robust appetites of the younger 
 Brandons demand to Aline's room, we heard the little 
 pony-carriage drive up, and in a minute or two we were 
 welcoming our Cinderella home from the ball. Esther 
 certainly looked a very different person from the radiant 
 princess of last night. Our winter jackets have grown 
 rather threadbare, without any great hope of new ones, 
 and Esther's seemed to show unusually thin and skimpy 
 in the western light which was pouring in on the tea- 
 table and its hissing urn and pile of hot cream-cakes. 
 
 " Well," said Lady O'Brien emphatically, as she seated 
 herself, " I have brought the belle of the ball to see you. 
 Congratulate her, my dears!" 
 
 Esther blushed, and we all laughed, knowing Lady 
 O'Brien's way; but the old lady was in earnest this time. 
 
 " I assure you there hasn't been such execution since I
 
 THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE. 157 
 
 came out myself at the very same Hunt Ball, and the 
 next morning there were no less than three challenges 
 over the last dance I had to give. Ah! my dears, there are 
 no such men nowadays, as I'm never tired of saying. Sir 
 Con O'Doherty winged Counsellor Slattery, and poor Tom 
 Kinsella went with a ball in his knee from that day. And 
 to think I passed them all by for Peter, that sat mum- 
 chance in a corner and hadn't the spunk to approach me 
 for a dance. All the better it was, for if he had he'd 
 have torn my Limerick flounce in flitters, and that's 
 something I'd never have forgiven." 
 
 She stopped to take breath, and Pierce put in: 
 
 " I hope Essie's been spilling no blood, Lady O'Brien." 
 
 " Only heart's blood, my dear boy. It's all that's ever 
 spilt now, more's the pity." 
 
 " I suppose in your day they tapped the less important 
 organs. You talk as if the seat of life were somewhat 
 less important than the nose, shall we say?" 
 
 "Hear the impudence of the boy!" cried the old lady, 
 diverted. "I'll be after tapping your nose, my fine fellow, 
 one of these days, if you give me any of your sauce." 
 
 " Well," said Aline, coming in, " I hope Essie had a very 
 nice time." 
 
 "It's like your cold-bloodedness to put it that way, 
 Aline," said the old lady; "but all I can say is that if 
 Studderts and Ffrenches and Macnamaras come pro- 
 posing for Esther, you just tell them that they'll have to 
 wait till she sees more of the world and has had her pick 
 and choice."
 
 158 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 "Poor Essie! is she to become a worldling then?" said 
 Aline, with a fond glance at Esther, who had kept 
 silence, as was often her way, while we all chattered 
 about her. 
 
 "You haven't taken off your jacket, dear. Aren't you 
 hot?" she said, noticing that Esther still wore her out- 
 door things. 
 
 Esther looked shyly at her godmother. 
 
 "Well, Aline, my dear," said the latter, "to tell you 
 the truth, Esther's not going to take off her jacket. She 
 has promised, unless you and Pierce forbid it, and I don't 
 think you will, to try what life is like with a cantanker- 
 ous old woman." 
 
 " What! To live with you, Lady O'Brien?" 
 
 "Yes, my dear, to make me so happy, if it will not 
 mean unhappiness to herself. There are so many of you 
 here, Aline, and I am a lonely old woman with a very 
 thirsty heart for a little girl of my own." 
 
 Aline looked at Pierce. 
 
 " Esther seems to have consented," he said, glancing at 
 her half -fearful face. " Eh, Essie?" 
 
 " Yes, Pierce," Esther said in a low voice. 
 
 " Well, that being so, Aline, I don't think it's for us to 
 forbid it. Esther's old enough to choose for herself." 
 
 Lady O'Brien turned round and gave him a hug which 
 disarranged all his pillows, so that Aline had to come 
 and shake them up again. As she did so I noticed that 
 she touched Pierce's face lightly with her cheek. Per- 
 haps Aline felt that he too would soon be going away
 
 THE ROMATJNT OF THE ROSE. 159 
 
 from her a longer journey than across the valley to 
 Annagower. When she had arranged him comfortably 
 in silence she came back to her seat behind the tea-table. 
 
 "Very well, dear friend," she said, "there is nothing for 
 us to do but to thank you and say yes. But Esther will 
 need some preparation." 
 
 "None all that is my affair, Aline. If you could 
 know how I have longed to dress a girl." 
 
 So Esther never took off her jacket at all, but sat there 
 like a visitor paying an afternoon call, crumbling her 
 cake into her saucer absent-mindedly. 
 
 But she was not going to leave me like that. I went 
 over to her and put my arm round her neck. 
 
 " Come for one more talk, Essie," I whispered, " while 
 you are still ours and not Lady O'Brien's." 
 
 For I don't think any of them felt Esther's going as I 
 did. We had always been so closely knit together, as 
 close as the twins, or Aline and Pierce, and though of late 
 the tie had been loosening a little, yet I had never felt 
 that it could fray or grow thin. She came without a 
 word. 
 
 When we had reached our own room upstairs we sat 
 down on my bed side by side and twined our arms about 
 each other. So we sat in silence for several minutes. At 
 last Esther whispered in my ear, in her low passionate 
 voice : 
 
 " We shall never be less to each other, Hilda, never, 
 never. Never, till all the seas run dry." 
 
 But she was going away, and I felt that things would
 
 160 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 not be quite the same again, and so I felt I could not 
 speak, but a few very bitter tears for I do not cry easily 
 came into my eyes, smarting and burning them. 
 
 " You will be happy, Essie," I said, " and your happi- 
 ness is what really matters. And you will make that 
 dear old soul as happy as the day is long." 
 
 "Happy?" she said, answering the first part of my 
 sentence and not the last, " I do not know about happi- 
 ness, Hilda. My dear old godmother would buy me the 
 world if she could, but happiness may be beyond her reach." 
 
 There was something in the way she said it that 
 alarmed me, and stirred all my late misgivings about 
 Esther. 
 
 "There is nothing, Esther?" I whispered. "You are 
 not in trouble, dear?" 
 
 She looked at me half-startled. 
 
 " I spoke generally, Hilda. Every one has trouble." 
 
 " Oh, is that all ? " said I ; but my mind was not the 
 more at rest. Still, I did not want to surprise Esther's 
 trust. I drew myself a little away from her as I asked 
 in a sprightlier voice: 
 
 " And the ball, Essie. Were you really so brilliant a 
 success as her ladyship says ? Tell me all about it now 
 that we are here quietly by ourselves." 
 
 "Oh, the ball!" answered Esther, coming back as from 
 a distant country. " Yes, it was very fine, and every one 
 was so kind. Even Lord Cahirduff would dance with 
 me, though he has gout in his knee, and Lady Cahirduff, 
 who is such a handsome woman, with gray hair and
 
 THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE. 161 
 
 bright eyes, said she couldn't make out how it was we 
 were such strangers, that she had known our mother 
 well, and asked if she might call. But Lady O'Brien 
 said she was to come to Annagower one day, Tuesday, I 
 think. Lord Cahirduff is such a dear old man, and pays 
 such handsome compliments, and Lady O'Brien and he 
 kept up a fire of jokes, and Lady O'Brien seemed to 
 like him very much, for she slapped him with her fan 
 several times, and called him an impudent fellow, just as 
 she does Pierce." 
 
 "Of course," said I, "he was one of her early lovers, 
 and remained single for her sake years after she married 
 Sir Peter. But the young men, Essie?" 
 
 " I will show you my programme," said Esther, pro- 
 ducing it, very crumpled, from her pocket. " The young 
 men were very pleasant, and I could have danced every 
 dance many times over. The girls, too, were very pretty 
 and beautifully dressed, and there were many I thought 
 I should like to know. The only one who was not 
 nice was that horrid little Miss Pettigrew. Do you re- 
 member her, Hilda, that day long ago at Annagassan 
 Races ? Well, she spoke to me once when I sat near her, 
 resting from a dance, and was by way of being very 
 polite, but I couldn't respond very cordially. She didn't 
 seem to know many ladies, I thought, though she had 
 plenty of partners." 
 
 " I daresay," said I, carelessly ; " but she's not worth 
 talking about. I see a great many initials here. Which 
 of your partners did you like the best?" 
 
 ( M 436 ) li
 
 162 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 Esther blushed. 
 
 " They were all very pleasant, dear Hilda," she said. 
 And then, with a little jerk of the voice, as if she did 
 herself violence in speaking: 
 
 " Mr. De Lacy was there too, Hilda." 
 
 "Oh, was he?" said I. "I was just thinking that the 
 frequent ' De L. ' here stood for him. And how is he, 
 Essie?" 
 
 " He did not look well, Hilda, though he said he was 
 well. Those internal hurts take long to heal, and then 
 it must be horrible for him at Angry, horrible." 
 
 " It is plucky of him to stay there when he might be 
 with his dear old grandfather in Warwickshire." 
 
 " Yes, isn't it ? I think it noble of him, Hilda." 
 
 " He asked for us all?" 
 
 "Yes, most affectionately. He thought of everyone. 
 He asked me if I thought Aline would ever withdraw 
 her denial of Brandon to him. She might, Hilda, don't 
 you think? It would be only kindness, seeing how 
 alone he is and young, and ill fitted for what he has to 
 endure." 
 
 " If he were our friend, Essie, he might have harder 
 things to bear." 
 
 "What do you mean, Hilda?" 
 
 "You cannot guess?" 
 
 Suddenly Esther turned from me and hid her face in 
 her hands. Her shoulders began to heave up and down, 
 and a heavy sob broke from her. It struck me suddenly 
 that this was the weeping of one used to a burden. The
 
 THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE. 163 
 
 tears flowed very fast as if they had been held back for a 
 long time, and the sobbing went on with a quiet patience 
 that brought a pain into my own heart. 
 
 "Poor Essie!" I said, "poor Essie!" and then I put my 
 arms about her, and let her cry her fill. 
 
 "Oh, Hilda!" she whispered at last, "he looks so ill, 
 and I cannot bear it. They will kill him, and I shall die 
 too." 
 
 "When did it all begin, Esther?" I whispered back 
 again. 
 
 "The first minute we saw each other, I think. But 
 he went away without speaking, and yet he knew I 
 loved him, and I knew he loved me. It is love for ever 
 with both of us, Hilda." 
 
 "You haven't been meeting him, Esther?" 
 
 "Oh, no! you don't think I could? Not secretly, and 
 within Brandon walls. If I met him I should tell every- 
 body. But I'll tell you how it happened. You know 
 your hiding-place in the abbey, of which you gave me 
 the secret?" 
 
 "My tree? Yes." 
 
 " Well, I used to go there after he left, where I could 
 be quiet and think. You were keeping the house at the 
 time with a cold, so I was undisturbed. And the second 
 day I was there I saw him riding by, looking so sad and 
 delicate. He did not seem fit to be on horseback at all. 
 And while I was looking down at him, he looked up and 
 saw me. I didn't show myself, indeed, Hilda. It was 
 as if he felt I was there, and obliged me to show my
 
 164 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 face. I was wearing one of those pale monthly roses in 
 my frock, and he halted under the tree and looked up at 
 me, and called out, ' Give me your rose, Esther, and I 
 shall understand'. And I threw the rose to him. You 
 should have seen his face as he caught it. But I 
 wouldn't stay to speak. I swung myself down from the 
 tree, and ran away as fast as ever I could. After that 
 it came by degrees that I used to be there most days to 
 see him pass by, and every day I gave him a rose, and if 
 it happened that I could not be there at that hour, I 
 used to go early and leave the rose in the abbey window 
 where he could find it" 
 
 " And was the rose all? Did you never speak?" 
 
 "He used to say a word or two sometimes, but I 
 would not wait to listen. I knew he loved me, and just 
 then Aline was so troubled about Pierce, and I could not 
 bear to deceive her. I would have felt the deception a 
 stain on our love." 
 
 "And it went no further than the rose?" 
 
 " No. Was it very bad, Hilda?" 
 
 " It was superhumanly good, Esther. But I am glad 
 you were so good. However, you talked last night?" 
 
 " He said a great many things which I had always 
 known," she said, her cheeks all one soft fire. 
 
 "Well, Essie dear," I said consolingly, during her 
 recital the tears had dried themselves away on her hot 
 cheeks, " we must only hope for the best. Of course 
 it's a pity you should have selected the grandson of the 
 hereditary enemy to fall in love with, but, as a matter of
 
 THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE. 165 
 
 Christianity, there's no reason why the feud shouldn't 
 lie with Sir Rupert in his grave. He made it, and I 
 don't see why it shouldn't end with him. And then it 
 would be a pretty bit of poetical justice if his heir should 
 marry one of the family he has impoverished." 
 
 "Marry!" cried Esther; "I had not thought about 
 marrying!" 
 
 " I don't suppose you had," said I, " but those things 
 generally end that way. All the same, I daresay it's as 
 well you shouldn't think about it just yet, for I've no 
 doubt that the fact that Sir Rupert is still alive will 
 indefinitely postpone it." 
 
 " I should be satisfied," said Esther, with one of her 
 enraptured looks, "just to know that he loved me, and 
 that things were well with him. I think I should be 
 happy so, if I were never to see him." 
 
 I kissed her for answer. Dear Esther, she was always 
 one to give up all and never count the cost. 
 
 " Now, bathe your face and come down," I said, after a 
 few minutes, "or Lady O'Brien will think I have kid- 
 napped you. By the way, you will tell Aline that you 
 met young De Lacy at the ball?" 
 
 "I suppose so," said Esther; "or will you, Hilda? I 
 should be afraid of betraying myself." 
 
 " I daresay your godmother will save us the trouble," 
 I suggested. 
 
 And, sure enough, when we went downstairs the first 
 name we heard from Lady O'Brien's lips was De Lacy. 
 Fortunately the room was full of dusk and firelight by
 
 166 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 this time, so that the mantling colour which I felt sure 
 Esther wore was invisible. 
 
 " I'm inclined to agree with you," Pierce was saying 
 as we went in. " If I'd been here I should hardly have 
 backed up Aline in shutting the door against the lad. 
 He had right on his side when he refused to be made an 
 enemy on his grandfather's account." 
 
 " He's a throw-back, as his father was before him," 
 said Lady O'Brien, "or how does a De Lacy come by 
 those gentle eyes and delicate ways? It makes him less 
 of a match for old Rupert." 
 
 "Still, he has plenty of courage," said Aline, "or he 
 wouldn't be shut up in Angry with those two wicked old 
 men." 
 
 "Indeed, then, 'tis no place for him," asserted Lady 
 O'Brien. " And more betoken, he is going to have the 
 run of my drawing-room, I can tell you." 
 
 I saw a quick look of alarm in Aline's face. If that 
 speech had been uttered before she had consented to 
 Esther's going, her consent would have been harder to 
 extract. But now it was too late to withdraw, and so 
 poor Aline, with a melancholy visage, said good-bye to 
 the sister whom we should see constantly, but who had 
 nevertheless gone out of our house and our home, for 
 ever in all probability. Such partings, even in the 
 happiest circumstances, are sad things. 
 
 That night, as I was going to bed, Aline came in and 
 kissed me with unusual fervour. 
 
 "Ah, little Hilda," she said, "we are beginning to
 
 THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE. 167 
 
 dwindle!" and I knew she had it in her mind of who 
 would be the next to go. 
 
 "But it is good for Esther," I said, though my own 
 heart was full of tears. 
 
 "Yes, Lady O'Brien has already provided for her. 
 Sir Peter's money returns to his family, but she has a 
 comfortable sum to live on in her own right. So that 
 two of the children are now safe out of the clutches of 
 poverty Freda and Esther. We who are left ought 
 not to repine." 
 
 If there was anything else at her heart she did not 
 speak of it to me that night.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 PIERCE GOES ON A JOURNEY. 
 
 rilHAT winter was a very quiet and a very sad one. 
 J- As the days passed we felt the wings of death 
 brooding closer over the house. Little by little Pierce 
 had given up the ways of one who was to live, had given 
 up his bath-chair which was Lady O'Brien's present, and 
 the sofa in Aline's room, and the coming downstairs. We 
 knew now that he would come down no more till he was 
 carried down, and we dreaded the spring that would 
 bring further weakness to our beloved invalid, and the 
 summer that would take him from us. 
 
 He liked to get up about noon and lie on a sofa drawn 
 near the fire and have us to talk to him, and as the days 
 turned towards the spring he lay by the window where 
 he could see the cloudiness coming on the bare boughs 
 and Brandon turning bronze and pink in the fresh cold 
 air. 
 
 What his room became in those days I never could 
 tell. Whatever had befallen our Pierce out in the world, 
 and he carried the secret with him to the grave, he had 
 saved his soul triumphantly out of it. To see him there
 
 PIERCE GOES ON A JOURNEY. 169 
 
 dying in the flush of his youth, so resigned, so gentle, so 
 merry even, clutched at our hearts. He prayed inces- 
 santly when he was alone or quiet, and in those latter 
 days he came to have visibly the light of God's counten- 
 ance upon his face. His room was like the cell of a 
 saint to which we went for help, and comfort, and re- 
 freshment. Once when Aline and I canne out together 
 she suddenly caught at me and began to sob silently 
 against my shoulder, yet in the midst of her anguish she 
 whispered to me: 
 
 " Oh, Hilda, I wouldn't keep him if I could! I can see 
 that he is ripe for heaven. And yet, and yet, it breaks 
 my heart to see him so glad to go." 
 
 All this put Esther's love affairs greatly out of my 
 mind. Daily she and her godmother drove over to see 
 how Pierce was, and to sit with him a little. When his 
 voice had sunk almost to a whisper he still tried to keep 
 up the old merry banter with the friend who had been so 
 good to him and us, and I have seen the dear old woman 
 respond bravely while the big tears stood in her eyes. 
 
 Once when she had had to go away to conceal her 
 emotion, she said to Aline: 
 
 " Tis not tears of sorrow, my dear, I'm giving him, 'tis 
 only that it dazzles my sinful old eyes to have sight of 
 one of God's saints passing. Hush, now, my dear, don't 
 be grudging him his joy. 'Tis for you who love him to 
 be glad for him." 
 
 " But he is so young to die," said poor Aline, " and he 
 and I were to have been always together."
 
 170 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 "Ah, my child," responded the old woman with a 
 sudden intuition, " you might have lost him more cruelly! 
 Don't you see that he's had some trouble, young as he 
 is, that has just ended his life for him. And kinder so. 
 He wasn't one to grow hard and wicked, nor yet was he 
 one to live carrying a dead heart about with him the 
 rest of his days. Indeed, indeed, God gave him the 
 better part." 
 
 "Oh," said Aline, "you think he has had a great 
 sorrow ? " 
 
 " I am sure of it, child, but maybe it was just through 
 that same sorrow that God gathered him." 
 
 " Yet let him keep the rest 
 But keep them with repining restlessness: 
 Let him be rich and weary, that at least, 
 If goodness lead him not, yet weariness 
 May toas him to my breast" 
 
 I said softly from my corner, where they had not seemed 
 to notice me. 
 
 Lady O'Brien turned round sharply. 
 
 " That's it, Hilda, that's it. Your poetry has said it a 
 thousand times better than I ever could." 
 
 Esther, during these visits, would sit on the floor by 
 Pierce, and now and again would lay her cheek to his 
 hand. 
 
 " I wish I could tell him, Hilda," she said once, " but 
 I can't trouble him now. If all were well with us it 
 would be another matter, but I must not bring trouble 
 near him. And yet his touch comforts me."
 
 PIERCE GOES ON A JOURNEY. 171 
 
 Esther's fears now were mainly concerned with her 
 lover's health. Her experience of Pierce had taught her 
 to look for the signs and tokens of illness, and sometimes 
 she came to me in a paroxysm of terror because she 
 thought Harry De Lacy looked frailer than when last 
 she had seen him, or because she had heard him cough, 
 or noted the transparency of his hand against the light. 
 
 He was not an over-frequent visitor at Annagower, 
 not more so than many other gentlemen, and as yet the 
 understanding between him and Esther was not a formal 
 one. She could not, she said, in these sad days, trouble 
 anyone about her affairs, and it was better that he should 
 be very patient and not come too often, nor try to force 
 things to a conclusion. 
 
 "If I had him to nurse and feed up and take care of, 
 everything would be well," she used to say; "but now 
 I fear that he will stay at Angry, only to die there. I 
 wish he would go back to Warwickshire and grow 
 strong. I could bear absence, silence, anything, if I had 
 not this dreadful fear." 
 
 " Except separation," I suggested. 
 
 " Only death could bring that about," said Esther 
 solemnly. " If he were to leave me, and I were to hear 
 nothing from him, I should know that he was dead." 
 
 The trouble that was brooding over us seemed to bind 
 us Brandons more closely. The poor boys were always 
 hanging about with wistful faces that spring, wanting to 
 do something to help if they could. They used to come 
 into Pierce's room and sit down with a great parade of
 
 172 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 not creaking or making noise, and soften their rough 
 young voices to a hoarse whisper as they addressed him. 
 I have seen the old humour flash into Pierce's sunken 
 eyes as he looked at them, humour oddly blent with im- 
 mense tenderness. Then out of sheer kindness he would 
 send them off fishing or shooting, with an expressed 
 desire for a trout or a quail, for which, when they 
 arrived, he had no appetite. 
 
 The twins, too, proved themselves little hearts of gold. 
 They would bring in their treasures from garden and 
 woodland to show to Pierce early primroses, or a group 
 of tall daffodils, or a mass of wild hyacinths; such 
 things brought to him by his shy little sisters seemed to 
 give him great pleasure. He would stroke their brown 
 heads and tell them to be very good to Aline, and then 
 would watch them fondly while they sat before the fire, 
 their two heads bent over one book, till he fell asleep. 
 
 At Easter Freda came for a week. We thought she 
 would have waited for the end, though that was not a 
 thought we put into words for each other, but it seemed 
 strange that she could not stay by Pierce as long as we 
 kept his precious body on the earth. 
 
 Yet she seemed to care as much as any of us, and 
 hardly left Pierce's room during that week. 
 
 " I suppose it is the child," Aline said to me as if she 
 would excuse her. " We can't be expected to understand 
 how a mother's heart drags her back to where her child 
 is." 
 
 "Yet I should think," I said, "that she might have
 
 PIERCE GOES ON A JOURNEY. 173 
 
 trusted him to Mrs. Vincent for a while, so that she 
 might stay with Pierce while . . . while " 
 
 And here I broke off with a sob and went out of the 
 room. 
 
 But I was present when Freda and Pierce said good- 
 bye, at least for the beginning of their parting. 
 
 Freda had come in with her hat on, and looked very 
 pale, I noticed, but tearless. She knelt down by Pierce, 
 and I heard her say: 
 
 "I have to go, darling. You know, darling, that I 
 must go, though it is breaking my heart to leave you 
 now." 
 
 "I know, Freda," he said, "and it has been good to 
 have had you this week. Good-bye, my dearest ! When 
 I am gone you will have two instead of one in that dis- 
 tant country." 
 
 I saw Freda wring her hands. Then I got up and 
 went out of the room. I thought it best to leave them 
 together. 
 
 So Freda went away, and though we said nothing, 
 Aline, I am sure, felt a little chill at her heart against 
 her that she could go. Yet, having seen the trouble in 
 her face, I could not judge her. There must be reasons 
 that we did not know. 
 
 But when Lady O'Brien broached the subject I did 
 not know how to answer her. 
 
 " I don't want, my dear," she said, " to be prying and 
 impertinent, and I can't think badly of a Brandon; yet, 
 how is it that your sister couldn't stay to see the last of
 
 174 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 that dear saint, and to be a comfort to poor Aline when 
 the time comes?" 
 
 "I do not know, Lady O'Brien," I answered truth- 
 fully. 
 
 "And why didn't you ask her, my dear?" 
 
 Yes; the old lady was right. Why hadn't we asked 
 Freda to solve for us the mystery that had somehow 
 grown up about her. It would have been the simplest 
 thing to do, and might have saved us the wondering pain 
 that was in our hearts when we thought of her. 
 
 " It is what we ought to have done, Lady O'Brien," I 
 assented. " But one thing I can assure you of, Freda is 
 not hard-hearted. If you had seen her face as I did, 
 when she said good-bye to Pierce, you would be as sure 
 as I am." 
 
 I have always heard that consumptives take it hard to 
 die. Looking back now on those days, I thank God that 
 it was not so with Pierce. He seemed to have foreseen 
 every step of the way, and to be prepared to endure it all 
 joyfully the night-sweats, and the fevers, and the ex- 
 haustion, and the terrible, terrible difficulty of breathing. 
 He never complained, and his only distress seemed to be 
 that it caused pain to those he loved so dearly. 
 
 The month of May turned round in a glorious succes- 
 sion of scented days and silver nights. The end was 
 very near now, and Aline was sitting up at nights with 
 Pierce. It was a duty she would yield to no one, and 
 even Oona forbore to press her, for we felt that she 
 could not endure to be away from him a minute longer
 
 PIERCE GOES ON A JOURNEY. 175 
 
 than she could help, and they were to be together so 
 short a time. 
 
 I could not sleep those nights. The moon was so 
 brilliant, and the scent of hawthorn and lilac so ravishing, 
 and all night the corncrake sawed incessantly in the 
 ripening grasses. So I often kept vigil with Aline and 
 Pierce, though they did not know it. 
 
 I used to sit on the top step of the stairs from the great 
 hall of Brandon, round the gallery of which many doors 
 open. One at the stair-head opened into Pierce's room, 
 and sitting there huddled in my dressing-gown I could 
 hear his laboured breathing, and sometimes the soft 
 murmur of Aline's voice as she spoke to him, or her quiet 
 movements as she went to and fro in the room. 
 
 I sat there sometimes till well into the dawn. Over 
 my head the great hall window held the east, and through 
 its colours the sunrise came magnificently. 
 
 I was sitting there one night with my head in my 
 hands, and the moonlight was casting black lozenges on 
 to the floor. Everything was quiet in Pierce's room, save 
 only the struggle for breath that went on incessantly. 
 Suddenly there rang through the night outside the cry 
 of a woman. It began thin as an ^lolian harp, and 
 swelled to a full chord of passionate lamentation. It 
 came from without, but it seemed to ring through the 
 old house and beat against the rafters of the high roof 
 overhead. 
 
 I sprang to my feet terrified, and with a wild impulse 
 to fly anywhere for human companionship, but my
 
 176 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 fear of disturbing the dying and the mourner kept me 
 still. 
 
 Again the wild cry rang out, more piercing and heart- 
 broken. I looked at the sick-room door, expecting Aline 
 to appear, but all was quiet 
 
 The third time it rang, and now it was close by me, 
 close against the great window. I lifted my eyes in 
 fascinated terror, and for a moment the moonlight was 
 blotted out. Something like the wings of a great bird, 
 or the trailing veil of a woman, passed slowly across the 
 panes. Then I fell, huddled up, with my head against 
 the upper step. 
 
 When I came to myself I was lying on my own bed, 
 and Oona was bathing my head with something sharp 
 and aromatic. The gray dawn was filling the room like 
 a tide. 
 
 "Oh, Oona!" I cried; " what was it? Did you hear it, 
 the dreadful thing?" 
 
 "Whisht, my lamb! I heard her. Many's the time 
 I've heard her these sorrowful months. But she's not 
 dreadful, my jewel. She loves every one of ye, and 'tis 
 because her heart's breaking for the trouble in the family 
 that she cries like that." 
 
 "They didn't hear, Oona?" I asked, with a new fear. 
 
 " Not a sound. Master Pierce was asleep when I went 
 in, an' Miss Aline, poor lamb, was sound off, with her head 
 against his hand. She's wore out, sure she is. I didn't 
 disturb her. ' Sleep, my honey,' I said, for I knew she'd 
 need all her strength for the trouble that's so close at
 
 FIERCE GOES ON A JOURNEY. 177 
 
 hand. Why, when I found you in your white gown I 
 thought 'twas you was the banshee, Miss Hilda, darling. 
 There, never be afraid of her. Sure she loves every hair 
 of your heads." 
 
 In the afternoon of the next day Pierce died. All 
 through the day he had been dozing quietly, with his 
 hand lying in Aline' s, while incessantly she dried his face 
 with a handkerchief. We were all in the room, including 
 Esther, who had been sent for, all huddled about miser- 
 ably, some of us weeping, and the boys manfully trying 
 to keep the tears out of sight. 
 
 Now and again Oona would steal into the room, and 
 bring one or another away for food. It was terrible 
 waiting there for the end, with nothing to do but wait. 
 At every least sound Pierce would start, and open his 
 eyes, and then would sink off again into a stupor. 
 
 We were troubled about Aline, who had eaten nothing. 
 After all it was Hugh who persuaded her. He brought 
 some nourishing jelly to her, and when she shook her 
 head, he was not to be put off like the rest of us. 
 
 " Pierce said last night that he gave you to me to take 
 care of," said the poor boy huskily, and as he said it 
 Pierce opened his eyes and smiled at him. 
 
 " You are the head of the house," he said slowly. "You 
 will be what I failed in being." 
 
 Then he closed his eyes, and Aline allowed herself to 
 be fed by spoonfuls with the jelly. 
 
 About three o'clock in the afternoon Pierce seemed to 
 rally. He looked round at us all with calm seeing eyes, 
 
 (M436) M
 
 178 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 and seemed to know us quite well. His lethargy had 
 passed away for the moment. He turned to Aline, and 
 looked at her with great tenderness. 
 
 " I wish you would find out Desmond," he said, " and 
 let him know that I loved him at the last, and that I 
 knew he was right, and thanked him." 
 
 " I will do it, Pierce," said Aline. 
 
 " I wanted to say more," he said, " but I am too tired 
 to think" 
 
 Then he smiled on us all round, and fell asleep smiling. 
 We thought he would have died in that sleep, but he did 
 not. The clock in the stable-yard had just struck five 
 when he opened his eyes, full and wide, and gazed up- 
 wards. 
 
 " Remember me ", he cried, " when Thou art come into 
 Thy kingdom." 
 
 And then a film seemed to settle on the brightness, and 
 the light slowly faded out.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 HONEY AMONG THE ROSES. 
 
 THAT was the loneliest summer that ever I remember. 
 Soon after Pierce had left us, Lady O'Brien carried 
 Aline and Esther off to Kilkee. Aline bore her sorrow 
 bravely, with more hope and faith than we had dared to 
 expect; but if you have been building all your thoughts 
 and cares and wishes and anxieties about one human 
 being for nearly all your years, and then you are bereft, 
 the empty place is terrible. Even our Lord Himself 
 endured desolation, and He does not spare it to His 
 creatures though He walk with them through the 
 shadows. 
 
 There had been some talk of my going after a time, 
 when Aline should return. Lady O'Brien had taken her 
 cottage till the end of September. But I begged her to 
 keep Aline and let me stay at home, I knew Aline's 
 mind would be at rest while I was in charge, and I had 
 my wish. 
 
 But, oh, the unutterable loneliness of it! It was a 
 beautiful summer, with long, long days of haze and heat, 
 and evenings that trailed themselves out, I thought, un-
 
 180 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 duly long. There was no excuse for firelit and lamplit 
 evenings. By the time the moon had come out in the 
 green sky, and the last wood-dove had gone to bed, it 
 was time for me to follow. 
 
 I have always associated the call of the wood-quest, as 
 we call it, with the loneliness of that summer. As the 
 woods grew dark with their prime, and the love-songs of 
 the blackbird were stilled, that lonely complaint of the 
 dove seemed to brood over all the world. The children 
 say it is the bird's lament for the smallness of her 
 family. 
 
 " The robin and the wren have nine and ten, 
 And I have only two oo oo." 
 
 When I have been happy her note has sounded as though 
 she were sweetly in love with her own melancholy, but 
 now, how lonely it was, oh, how lonely! 
 
 The young ones were always out and about, full of the 
 multitudinous occupations of country children in summer. 
 I would not hamper them with my lagging steps or 
 burden them with my melancholy, so that, except for 
 Oona, I was almost always alone. And she was not cheer- 
 ful. The death of her eldest nursling had shaken her 
 sorely, and she had grown feebler and was usually full 
 of forebodings and omens. 
 
 But for my writing I could not have endured the lone- 
 liness. I scribbled a bit in those long days, and burnt 
 much of what I scribbled, but what I retained I laid 
 away in the secret cupboard in Aline's room. The blessed 
 thing about writing is that we must give it everything
 
 HONEY AMONG THE ROSES. 181 
 
 for the time, entire absorption. If I had had to sit and 
 sew a seam, I think my heart would have broken. I 
 started my novel, Love in the Valley, some time that 
 July, and it progressed more to my satisfaction, and 
 with less destruction of manuscript, than anything I 
 had hitherto attempted. I love the book, because it 
 helped me then, more than any of its successors. People 
 find it sad, but the sadness and loneliness of youth are 
 of the most monotonous gray. The future has no such 
 illuminating flashes as come out of the past. 
 
 I had always been rather starved for reading. The 
 Brandons could never have been very bookish folk, and 
 it is not possible to find any but very dry provender in 
 the mouldering volumes bound in calf and gold which 
 line the library. Why, a whole side of it is taken up by 
 Transactions of the Irish Parliament, wherein many 
 Brandons sat; and many of the later volumes are records 
 of learned societies and such things. The little amount 
 of literary bread to this vast deal of sack I had devoured 
 long ago. 
 
 Well, one evening in August, when I was finding my 
 time more than usually heavy, Oona came to me where 
 I sat on the terrace overlooking the rose-garden, and 
 longing for once that I could fly out into the world where 
 the human soul need not walk in such utter loneliness. 
 She looked quite cheerful, and I turned to her, willing to 
 be cheered. 
 
 " Miss Hilda dear," she said, " I've a little bit of news 
 for you. Rose Hill is open again."
 
 182 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 "Indeed!" said I languidly. " Who has taken it?" 
 
 "A military gentleman; General Hugh MacNeill. Oh, 
 a rale good Irish stock, though his family has lived out 
 of the country!" 
 
 "I'm glad the pretty old place is not to go to rack 
 and ruin like many another." 
 
 " Oh, they're putting the finest complexion at all on it! 
 Thousands of painters and paper men in it, I hear, and 
 the most elegant of furniture come down from Dublin. 
 'Twill be a sight when 'tis all done." 
 
 " I suppose he has a family," I said, more by way of 
 being civil to Oona than anything else, for I didn't 
 suppose the occupation of Rose Hill would affect us any 
 more than the occupation of twenty other houses in the 
 country. 
 
 " Sorra one. He's an ould bachelor gentleman, or a 
 widdy man I don't rightly know which. But it isn't 
 about him I'm thinking, an' he's not expected this good 
 while yet. 'Tis a visit I'm after havin' from my cousin, 
 Mary O'Connor. She's goin' as housekeeper. I believe 
 'twas Lady O'Brien gave her the good word, for the 
 General and she's ould friends. 'Tis glad I am Mary's in 
 place again, an' two housemaids an' a boy under her. 
 It'll be new life to her, the poor woman, to have them to 
 drive over-an'-hither. She was always used to rulin' 
 sarvants, an' a fine heavy hand over them she has, Miss 
 Hilda dear. I'd like to be there the first day or two to 
 hear the malavoguin' Mary'll give them with her tongue. 
 They're English, more betoken."
 
 HONEY AMONG THE ROSES. 183 
 
 Oona seemed as heartened up by Mary's news as Mary 
 could be herself, and I was cheered insensibly enough to 
 waken up to a certain interest in her tale. 
 
 " The grandest of chaney an' ould eccentricities out o' 
 the Aist. Mary says there is haythen gods an' goddesses 
 that hasn't a screed on them, and 'ud be downright on- 
 decent, only they're brute bastes, an' silver trays as big 
 as a cart-wheel, an' little houses piggodys, Mary says 
 they're named of ivory, an' big ould elephant tusks. 
 There's no end to the grandeur. An' Mary's duty to you, 
 Miss Hilda, an' if you'd bring over the little ladies, an' 
 Master Hugh and Master Donald, she thinks they'd like 
 to see the ingenuities. An' proud she'd be if you'd take 
 a cup of tea afterwards." 
 
 " It would be very pleasant, Oona," I said, " if you are 
 sure there would be no danger of intrusion." 
 
 "Sure isn't Mary housekeeper, an' the master not 
 expected this month yet? Let alone that him an' Lady 
 O'Brien's ould cronies, an' I expect yez'll be in an' out 
 with him, like a dog at a fair, all the time as soon as he 
 gets settled." 
 
 "Then we shall certainly go, Oona," I said. "The 
 twins would love it, I know, and so would the boys." 
 
 " Oh, Miss Hilda dear!" cried Oona, her voice changing 
 to one of tragic supplication, "all I ask you is to keep 
 them darlin' boys from the ould swoords an' pistols an' 
 trumperies that Mary says has come down by the cart- 
 load. Sure 'tis not in Nature if they go meddlin' with 
 them that they won't kill aich other or thimselves. Let
 
 184 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 alone that some o' them is maybe poisoned, as Mary says, 
 an' a scratch o' one 'ud let the life out of a rig'mint." 
 
 " They'll be sensible, Oona, an' not meddle with 
 them." 
 
 " Indeed, then, an' if they are they won't be like any 
 boy-flesh I ever heard tell of. Tis as natural for boys 
 to kill thimselves as for the bird to fly. There ! an' you 
 can't have 'em different. The Lord made them so." 
 
 The next day the party of us went over to Rose Hill 
 accompanied by Oona, who could not refrain from seeing 
 the " ingenuities " as well as ourselves, though she put it 
 on the score of seeing that the boys and the twins didn't 
 get into mischief. 
 
 Rose Hill is built on the side of a little ravine, down 
 which it looks to the plain and the distant sea. You 
 ascend to it through a tiny wood, and you look down 
 from the winding pathway upon a little brown trout- 
 stream in the valley below. The house is fancifully 
 built with balconies and green outside shutters, and 
 stands but two stories, to the second of which you ascend 
 by the hall-door steps. But it stretches away at the back 
 to a considerable size. 
 
 The house had long been shut up, and many a time as 
 children we had peered in at the unshuttered windows 
 to rooms once gay with gilding and white wood panel- 
 ling, with marble mantel-pieces that had coloured wreaths 
 let in, and shutters with looking-glass in the panels. 
 The house seemed built for lightness and brightness, and 
 was said indeed to have been designed for a bride. But
 
 HONEY AMONG THE ROSES. 185 
 
 the bride died almost before the waning of the honey- 
 moon, and the disconsolate bridegroom shut up the place, 
 and let it go to ruin. 
 
 The little lawn in front was planted thickly with rose- 
 trees, from which I suppose the place derived its name. 
 Many of them had gone half-wild, and every summer 
 these flung out the most exquisite rosy veil of blossoms, 
 more beautiful, with the pale -green leaves, than any 
 gardener ever fostered. For years we had gathered 
 those roses, and waded in the grass, knee-deep, in the 
 garden, to find the cherries and apples and pears and 
 plums in their season, which would otherwise have gone 
 to feed the birds. 
 
 As we came up to the door we saw the changes that 
 were taking place. The long grass was mown and lying 
 in swathes, and a grumpy-looking old man was shearing 
 the rose-trees, now fortunately done blooming. 
 
 The house-door stood open, and the hall was full of 
 painters' ladders and paint-pots and such things, while 
 already the front of the house had been brilliantly 
 whitened and the shutters re-painted. 
 
 Oona's cousin came bustling out to meet us, her com- 
 fortable face wreathed in smiles. She was dressed very 
 neatly in black, but I could imagine that her frilled white 
 cap, and the little shawl round her shoulders, might ex- 
 cite the derision of the English servants. However, as 
 Oona explained, Mary was subject to the ear-ache this 
 good many years back, and couldn't bring herself to 
 return to the cocked-up bit of a thing which she had
 
 186 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 worn with dignity on her dark hair in her old house- 
 keeping days. 
 
 The library was in comparative order. Like all the 
 rooms in the house, it was light, and the bookshelves had 
 been painted white, which I thought very gay. The 
 floor had been covered with a cool green-and- white mat- 
 ting, and the green blinds were drawn down to temper 
 the brightness of the room. It was a real summer room 
 as I saw 'ii first, and the effect was increased by the open 
 French window, which led on to a flight of steps going 
 down to the garden. 
 
 Tea was set out on a table, with strawberries in their 
 own green leaves, and honey, fresh from the hive, with 
 many other good things; but it was not the eatables that 
 made me draw a long breath of rapture. It was what 
 seemed to me the endless number of books books of 
 every kind I saw at a glance, grave and gay, ancient and 
 modern, poetry, novels, biography, art, in all manner of 
 bindings, from purple morocco to the humble paper 
 yellowback. 
 
 They were piled high on the floor, and in boxes, some 
 opened, some still unopened. Rows of the books were 
 hastily set on the shelves, to be out of the way, I felt 
 sure, for they were higgledy-piggledy, upside down, long 
 and short, and most incongruous neighbours. 
 
 You, good people, who have never wanted for books, 
 can have no idea of what the sight meant to me, to whom 
 a solitary book newly come my way, represented hours 
 of delight. I simply stood and sniffed at the books,
 
 HONEY AMONG THE ROSES. 187 
 
 inhaling the smell of them with rapture. For the mo- 
 ment I did not ask to touch; to gape at them was enough; 
 and twice Mrs. O'Connor asked me to take my seat at 
 the tea-table unheard. 
 
 "There!" said Oona, "she never saw so many books 
 before in her life. Come away, Miss Hilda dear, and 
 have your tea; but sure I never saw the day, no matter 
 how young you were, that you wouldn't rather have an 
 ould romaush of a book than your good food." 
 
 "Is that the way with her?" said Mary O'Connor, as 
 I came reluctantly to the table. " Whethen she'll have 
 to be findin' her way to Rose Hill every day that's in 
 it, if she's to get through half the books. I hear there's 
 thousands more to come down." 
 
 " That won't give her much trouble," said Oona proudly. 
 " Why, before she was three she could read me the whole 
 news was on the papers." 
 
 "You don't say so!" cried her cousin, with hands flung 
 out in admiration. 
 
 " I wouldn't blame you for doubtin' my word, for Dr. 
 Whittaker, Lord rest him, did the same. He was in vac- 
 cinatin' Master Donald, and Miss Hilda sat on her little 
 creepy-stool readin' the paper to her dolls. ''Tis gib- 
 berish,' says he. 'Askin' your pardon, sir, for contra- 
 dictin' you, 'tis sense,' says I. ' Come over here, my 
 little girl,' says he, ' an' tell me,' he says, ' if the Rooshians 
 is smashin' the Turks, or the Turks knockin' smoke out 
 o' the Rooshians.' Well, of course, the innocent child 
 took him snriously, an' so she came an' perched on his
 
 188 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 knee, an' began to read for him though, of course, some 
 of the words was too big for her little mouth. ' Oh, by 
 this and that,' says he, ' this licks creation ! Tis a progedy 
 she's goin' to be, or else,' says he, ' she'll grow up without 
 any sinse at all in her brain-pan.' " 
 
 If Mary O'Connor hadn't heard this tale a thousand 
 times the young Brandons had, and the boys at this 
 stage looked up indignantly from their strawberries and 
 cream, to tell Oona they were rather tired of it. 
 
 " 'Deed, then," she said, very angry with them, " if a 
 bit o' the same love of the book had been passed on, 
 'twould have been a good thing; but Master Hugh there 
 said he'd rather ait his jography than learn it, and Master 
 Donald, it's well known through the barony, turned his 
 Ailments of Euclid into kite-tails." 
 
 At this stage, seeing things looked a bit stormy, I in- 
 terposed with an inquiry about the " ingenuities ", and 
 the attention of the boys was distracted. 
 
 After tea we roamed about the house and gardens at 
 our will. The rooms were still full of big packing-cases 
 and swathed articles which made progress difficult. 
 
 " General MacNeill seems likely to settle here, Mary," I 
 said, looking round at the assemblage of furniture. 
 
 " I'm told he says he doesn't want to stir out of it till 
 he dies. I hear he's burnt black, poor man, with the 
 Ingy sun, an' his temper not what it ought to be by 
 raison of the annoyance of them Red Injins he's been 
 commandin'. I wouldn't be surprised now if he's come 
 here to get his mind quiet an' his temper settled before
 
 HONEY AMONG THE ROSES. 189 
 
 he laves this world for a better. Ireland's an elegant 
 quiet place for makin' your sowl." 
 
 I smiled, remembering that Lady O'Brien had said 
 something of the same kind. 
 
 After we had viewed all the curiosities, and enjoyed 
 ourselves immensely, I sat down quietly in the library 
 to wait till the boys and the twins were satiated with 
 the gardens, and while the two old cronies were having 
 their gossip in the housekeeper's room. 
 
 The library was deliciously quiet, and I wandered 
 about from one heap to another, picking off a book and 
 looking into it, and then drawn by the embarrassment of 
 my riches to another one. I felt as if I should be a long 
 time in that library before I could settle down to read. 
 I should have to look into every single book first. There 
 were delightful little ladders by which to reach the 
 upper shelves. I looked at the chaos of books up 
 there. 
 
 " Ah," said I, " if I had a long, long day, I should ask 
 for nothing better than to arrange those books!" 
 
 A sudden flash of inspiration came to me. 
 
 "Hilda Brandon," said I, "you were born to be a 
 librarian!" 
 
 And indeed it seemed to me at the moment as though 
 the earth could hold no fairer plot of peace than this cool 
 place, with the green garden below, and the atmosphere 
 inside cool green like the woods, and all those books 
 waiting to be handled and dusted and loved. 
 
 Presently the twins came up the garden steps, and
 
 190 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 said they should like to go home, by which I guessed 
 that their fruit-eating capacity had come to an end. 
 
 " I hope you won't be horribly upset to-morrow, little 
 girls," said I ; but they assured me that they could have 
 eaten a great deal more if they really wanted to, only 
 they feared that the boys would make themselves ill 
 with the green apples they were eating after all the ripe 
 fruit. 
 
 However, a boy's digestion is a wonderful thing, and 
 the interest those boys, and the twins as well, showed in 
 their supper on the way home, fairly amazed me. 
 
 Before we left, Mary O'Connor gave me a very urgent 
 invitation to come and read all the books I liked, and 
 Oona seconded her. 
 
 " 'Twill do you a world of good, Miss Hilda," she said, 
 "an' keep you from mopin' about by yourself, so that 
 the sight of you keeps my own heart sore." 
 
 " But what would General MacNeill say?" I said hesi- 
 tating, for I wanted very badly to come. 
 
 "What would he say!" exclaimed Mary indignantly; 
 " only that he was a proud man to have a clever young 
 lady like yourself enjoyin' his ould books. But anyhow 
 he's not due this month yet, and you can come in by the 
 garden door without even knockin', but just come an' go 
 as you like. There's no one will make or meddle with 
 you, an' sure when the master comes, an' ould Lady 
 O'Brien fetches him over to see you, you can just spake 
 up an' ask him if you mayn't have the run of the place." 
 
 " Very well, Mary," said I, " I'll come."
 
 HONEY AMONG THE ROSES. 191 
 
 Indeed the books seemed such a paradise to me that 
 I did not stop overlong to examine my scruples about 
 invading General MacNeill's domain. After all, unless 
 he was a perfect curmudgeon, he could not object, and 
 then his friendship with Esther's godmother seemed to 
 make him a kind of friend of ours too. 
 
 Yes, on the whole, I thought I might venture to accept 
 Mary's invitation, and indeed the thought of it sent me to 
 bed that night with more cheerfulness in my heart than I 
 had known since Pierce died. 

 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE MASTER OF ROSE HILL. 
 
 THE following day, after I had presided at lunch, I set 
 out with great joy for Rose Hill, and spent a long 
 afternoon among the books, and though I had said, to 
 quiet my scruples, that I would not go too often, yet 
 there did not seem a day of the days following that I 
 could bear to keep away. It changed all the face of my 
 daily life for me, to look forward to those quiet hours. 
 As Mary O'Connor had said, no one disturbed me. I 
 went in by the garden and up the rose- wreathed steps, 
 and found the door standing invitingly open every day. 
 Then at four Mary would send me in a little tea-tray, 
 which I was usually glad enough to see after my climb 
 up the hilly road, and my rest among the books; and 
 then after tea I would read again till it was time to go 
 home. 
 
 But after a good many days spent in sipping the honey 
 of the books, an eagerness came on me to arrange them 
 in their shelves, so I asked the pretty little English maid 
 who brought my tea if she could fetch me a duster and 
 a feather-brush.
 
 THE MASTER OF ROSE HILL. 193 
 
 "Lawks, miss," she cried, "wotever for?" 
 
 " I'm going to arrange the books, Jane," said I. I never 
 could bring myself to call her " Jenkins ", by which name 
 she had been known in her other situations, she told me, 
 and Mary O'Connor was in sympathy with me on this one 
 point, though she could seldom be accused of over-con- 
 sideration to her subordinates. 
 
 " If I was in a place," Mary said, " and they called me 
 ' O'Connor ', I'd ask them if it was a dog they were 
 spakin' to, and take my box and walk." 
 
 Jane was so perturbed by my desire for activity that 
 she carried my request to Mary herself, who came hurry- 
 ing in. 
 
 " That omadhaun of a girl's after comin' to me with a 
 story about your wantin' a feather- whisk and a duster, 
 Miss Hilda. I told her no Brandon could want the like. 
 They haven't got their hearin' right, them cratures; often 
 an' often when I do send them to turn out the upper 
 bedrooms, 'tis in the drawin'-room, where the painter- 
 men are workin', I'll find them. And then they'll say 
 they didn't understand me rightly. ' The shoe's on the 
 wrong foot, my girl,' says I. ' If it was myself didn't 
 understand your outlandish up-and-down curlykews of 
 a way of spakin', there'd be no thin' wonderful in it'." 
 
 " But I do really want the feather- brush and duster, 
 and a big apron, if you will lend them to me, Mary. I 
 do so want to get those books in order." 
 
 " You'll be fallin' down an' breakin' your neck," said 
 Mary doubtfully. 
 
 (M436) K
 
 194 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " I'll do nothing of the kind," I assured her. " I'll take 
 my time about it, and set up all the books by degrees. 
 I shall love to do it, and when the General comes home 
 he'll think you and your handmaidens have been so 
 clever, Mary." 
 
 " You won't tire yourself, honey ? " 
 
 " I'll leave off the minute I'm tired. I'll promise you 
 that, Mary," cried I, all eagerness to begin. 
 
 So Mary brought me a big serviceable apron, and 
 manufactured me a mob-cap out of a piece of muslin, to 
 keep my hair from the dust, and, so protected, I began 
 my labours. Mary had the remaining packing-cases 
 opened for me, so that I had all the books under my 
 hand. I said to myself that I was giving General 
 MacNeill a quid pro quo for reading his books, but I 
 really set out to arrange them for the sheer pleasure the 
 task gave me. It was slow work, but it was quite 
 delightful when one had got a comely shelf-full of them 
 together, to sit down and survey one's handiwork, and 
 enjoy a well-earned rest and recreation. 
 
 But between finding out the books and sorting them, 
 and occasionally altering the whole arrangement of them, 
 things got on slowly. It was nearing the month's end, 
 and yet only one side of the library had been done. I 
 was beginning to grow hopeless about finishing the job 
 before the General should arrive and put a stop to my 
 labours, but as yet there was no word of his coming. I 
 dreaded that coming, which should shut me out of the 
 library, and send me back to my former loneliness.
 
 THE MASTER OF ROSE HILL. 195 
 
 I had gone over one afternoon, and entered by the 
 garden as usual, and, having donned my cap and apron, 
 I was working away furiously at an upper shelf. Sud- 
 denly I heard a cough behind me, and it startled me so 
 much that it was a mercy I didn't fall. But my lameness 
 has taught me caution, so I turned round very carefully 
 and sat clown on the top step of the ladder to survey the 
 intruder. 
 
 It was an old gentleman with a face the colour of 
 mahogany and a bristling white moustache General 
 MacNeill, of course. Neither of us said anything for a 
 minute, and then he coughed again, a short sharp cough, 
 exactly like a little bark. At the sound, Paudeen, who 
 had been eyeing him watchfully from the rug at the 
 door on which he lay every afternoon, responded with a 
 bark which might have been an echo. 
 
 The old fellow looked towards Paudeen irately, as if 
 he suspected mockery, then back at me. 
 
 " What is your name, my girl, and what are you doing 
 with those books?" he snapped. 
 
 " My name is Brandon, sir," said I meekly, " and I'm 
 putting the books in order." 
 
 " H'm ! You'll be a strange kind of housemaid if you're 
 able to do that. Who put you to do it? Mrs. O'Connor? 
 Hey? What kind of a fool is the woman to put you to 
 such work?" 
 
 " If you please, sir," said I, " she didn't. I put myself 
 to it." 
 
 "Hoity-toity! Is this how discipline is kept? How
 
 196 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 do you suppose that plan would work in the army, young 
 woman, if every man put himself to whatever work he 
 liked?" 
 
 " Badly," said I. 
 
 " Badly is the word," he said emphatically. " And now 
 if you'll please to step off that ladder I'll see what kind 
 of hay you've been making of my library." 
 
 I came down meekly and stood watching him, while 
 he went up in my place and began examining my 
 shelves. 
 
 " H'm, h'm!" he said to himself. "^Eschylus, Sophocles, 
 Euripides, not so bad, by Jove! It must have been a 
 chance shot her sticking them side by side. H'm, h'm, 
 Horace, Catullus, Pindar, couldn't have done it better 
 myself." 
 
 He came down with great agility and faced me, 
 frowning. 
 
 " Now, look here," he said gruffly, " are you a classical 
 housemaid ? " 
 
 His tone was so aggressive that Paudeen got up from 
 his rug and came towards us, growling suspiciously. 
 
 "Be quiet, Paudeen," said I; and then answering my 
 interlocutor: "No, sir, I'm not classical; I've only gone 
 by what I've heard." 
 
 "Where did my housekeeper pick you up? Do you 
 belong to the neighbourhood?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 I was beginning to wonder with some alarm how I 
 should own up to this very irascible-looking old gentle-
 
 "NOW, LOOK HERE," HE SAID GRUFFLY, "ARE YOU 
 A CLASSICAL HOUSEMAID?"
 
 THE MASTER OF ROSE HILL. 197 
 
 man, when Mary O'Connor came in. She held up her 
 hands, standing behind him, in amazement. Then she 
 came forward. 
 
 " Shall I bring your tea here, sir?" she asked, evidently 
 under the impression that there was nothing to be 
 explained. "I see Miss Hilda's been tellin' you that I 
 allowed her to read among your books. I told her, sir, 
 that I knew you'd make her kindly welcome." 
 
 "Miss what?" he thundered, so suddenly, that Mary 
 jumped. 
 
 " Why, Miss Hilda Brandon, sir," she answered stiffly. 
 " Miss Brandon, of Brandon. Miss Esther lives with 
 Lady O'Brien, an' a kinder an' sweeter young lady 
 than Miss Hilda There, she's give herself no end of 
 trouble over them books." 
 
 The old fellow whisked off his skull-cap and made me 
 a somewhat chilly bow. 
 
 " You've been laughing at me, young lady," he said. 
 
 "Oh no, indeed, General MacNeill!" I said; "it was 
 you that took me for a housemaid, and I was just 
 making up my mind to undeceive you." 
 
 " But you called me sir." 
 
 " Only homage from a young woman to a famous 
 soldier," said I cheerfully. 
 
 "Very well," he said, his grimness relaxing. "Punish- 
 ment you'll have to pour out my tea, and afterwards 
 explain to me what in thunder set you to doing my 
 servants' work." 
 
 " You said before that no servant could do it."
 
 198 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " You are right. Well, my librarian's work, if I had 
 such a functionary ?" 
 
 " Love of it, General." 
 
 "And you'll give it up now?" 
 
 " I suppose so," said I regretfully. 
 
 " I don't see why. If you loved it before, you love it 
 now, and I sha'n't interfere with you. A battered old 
 hulk like me in the house needn't make much difference. 
 There's plenty for me to do getting other things into 
 order without my hindering you. You'll come, hey?" 
 
 "Yes, I think I shall," said I. 
 
 " That's right. And now pour out the tea." 
 
 I grew quite to like General MacNeill that very first 
 day, he was so kind and gentle in looking after my 
 wants, and then he took my little Paudeen on his knee 
 and fed him with dainty little bits, so that I began to 
 suspect an unusually kind heart under the gruff exterior. 
 
 "And so you are great friends with my old flame, 
 Molly O'Brien?" he said. 
 
 "Molly O'Brien!" repeated I, wondering. 
 
 "Lady O'Brien, then, if it pleases you better. Of 
 course I forget she's an old woman, and the pretty name 
 sounds odd to a young creature like you. All the same, 
 Molly was a pretty girl as I remember her, and the soft 
 name just suited her a pretty, pretty girl." 
 
 " So I've often heard her say." 
 
 " I've no doubt you have," he answered with twinkling 
 eyes. "And how is my old friend keeping? I haven't 
 seen her for some years."
 
 THE MASTER OF ROSE HILL. 199 
 
 " Very well, indeed, General. And she's a very pretty 
 old woman, you know." 
 
 " Aye, I suppose she is. Molly '11 be in her grave before 
 she gives up her claims to be a belle." 
 
 "And very witty and sharp and kind and good," I 
 added " sharp-sweet, like a wholesome fruit." 
 
 "Oh, the very old Molly!" he chuckled. "You've just 
 hit it off, young lady. Well, Molly and I were young 
 together, and both handsome, though you'll laugh in your 
 sleeve at my saying so," bending a somewhat fierce gaze 
 upon me; "and here we are now, two lonely old hulks 
 cast high and dry, side by side, to moulder to our last 
 end. Ah! I remember Molly fresh as a rose in the dew. 
 She should have had a girl of her own to be as pretty as 
 she was!" 
 
 " She has my sister Esther, General, living with her 
 now. Esther is her god-daughter, and she's as pretty as 
 a picture not the least bit in the world like me," I 
 added hastily. 
 
 "Oh, indeed! I'm glad Molly's got a young girl to 
 live with her. And your sister's very pretty, and not 
 the least bit in the world like you. Well, well, we can't 
 all be pretty," he said, with a humorous glint in his eyes, 
 which, now I noticed, were quite startlingly blue for the 
 eyes of an old man. 
 
 "The Brandons are all handsome and strong except 
 me," said I. 
 
 "And you're good, I suppose?" 
 
 " No, but I'm supposed to have the brains," said I.
 
 200 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 "And which would you rather have, brains or beauty?" 
 he asked, with great gravity. 
 
 "Beauty," said I, "of course. But brains are a great 
 comfort too." 
 
 " Now, I'm glad to hear you say that," he said. " I'd 
 have distrusted you if you'd said you'd rather have 
 brains. But how do you use them? Are you cramming 
 that little head of yours with a lot of knowledge that'll 
 never be any use to you examinations, degrees, all that 
 sort of thing?" 
 
 " If I were I should be almost afraid to tell you," said 
 I, " while you frown at me like that." 
 
 "Never mind my frowns," said he. "They mean 
 nothing. My bark's worse than my bite. See, your 
 little dog has found that out!" 
 
 I looked at Paudeen, who was sitting with a confiding 
 paw in one of the General's palms. 
 
 " Paudeen's a very wise dog," said I; " but I don't think 
 it takes much wisdom to discover that." 
 
 "You saw it with half an eye, hey?" he said, frowning 
 more fiercely than ever. " So you don't think I'm an 
 ogre that'll eat you up. Well, I'm glad, as you're going 
 to arrange my books for me. Still, some that should 
 have known better took me at my angry word and went 
 away from me. What would you think, young lady, of 
 one who had known me all his life, and yet knew no 
 better than to go when I said ' Go, and let me see your 
 face no more'?" 
 
 " If it was a ' he '," said I, " that makes it difficult. If
 
 THE MASTER OF ROSE HILL. 201 
 
 it were a 'she', I should say she was a dunderhead. 
 But in a matter between two men, there come in questions 
 of pride and dignity on which I am not able to speak. I 
 don't know enough about it." 
 
 " Well, well, we won't talk about it now. I am glad 
 Molly O'Brien has your sister, though. And now tell me 
 about yourself. You have other sisters ? Why, I remem- 
 ber your grandmother, my dear. You favour her rather." 
 
 " Not a bit," said I, with some scorn. " Aline is like 
 her, I believe, but more like grandpapa." 
 
 " Oh, Aline is another sister, I suppose?" 
 
 " Yes," said I, " our eldest, dear sister, who has mothered 
 all of us." 
 
 And then I found myself telling him everything about 
 ourselves, as if I had known him for years. I told him 
 even about dear Pierce, at least till the sobs came up in 
 my throat, and I was obliged to walk away from the 
 table, and keep silence for a few minutes to recover my 
 composure. When I came back to the table I found the 
 General sitting as straight as a ramrod, and stroking 
 Paudeen with great gravity, and so we passed on to less 
 trying topics. 
 
 " But you didn't tell me," he said, " how you propose 
 to use those brains of yours. Brains are given to be 
 used, young lady." 
 
 " Oh, not in passing exams.!" said I. " I am not clever 
 enough for that, I suppose. I am trying to write," I 
 said, looking down at my hands, for I am shy of betray- 
 ing my literary aspirations.
 
 202 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " Write!" he echoed. " What kind of writing?" 
 
 " Oh, novels, poems, plays," I answered. 
 
 " Well, well. So you would be an authoress ? Have 
 you published anything?" 
 
 " Nothing yet." 
 
 "Ever tried?" 
 
 " Not yet: I've burned reams." 
 
 " Ah ! not easily satisfied. That's the right way to do 
 good work. Well, the pen has a mission too, young lady. 
 You won't forget that? You won't strive only after 
 worldly honour and Success? You won't forget the Giver 
 of the gift?" 
 
 I was not long in finding out that General MacNeill, 
 like many military and naval men, was very strongly 
 and simply religious in his character, and his religion 
 entered into all his life, even to the extent of holding his 
 naturally fiery temper greatly in check. Though, as he 
 told me afterwards, the struggle between the flesh and 
 the spirit was an ever-continuing one. I could not have 
 imagined him without his peppery temper, and I have 
 often thought that I could not be so fond of him if he 
 had quite succeeded in driving out the old Adam. Still, 
 he was one of those essentially manly men who are 
 always soft and gentle towards women, so that his 
 greatest irascibility towards myself had a touch of 
 tenderness in it which took out all the sting. Yet I 
 could imagine that with a man the dear old man might 
 have been trying. He was dictatorial, when the flesh 
 rather than the spirit had the upper hand, and I could
 
 THE MASTER OF ROSE HILL. 203 
 
 well believe what Hawkins, his soldier servant, said of 
 him, half regretfully: 
 
 "Ah, Miss, the master isn't the man he was before he 
 found religion ! He never has none of the old rages now, 
 and the langwidge he'd scatter in them days was well, 
 it was lively. Sometimes I do feel sorry for him tryin' 
 to satisfy himself with 'dashes' and 'bloomin's', and 
 often I've thought he'd do himself a mischief through 
 not havin' the old words to let himself go on. Not but 
 what he did change the face of the rig'mint before he 
 left, an' a good thing too. An' terrible down on lan- 
 gwidge he was. Why, 'e got rid of the rig'mintal parrot 
 because it wouldn't change its ways." 
 
 But all this belongs to a later stage, when I had 
 learned to appreciate and love the dear old General, and 
 to bless the hour he came to settle at Rose HilL
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE STORY OF A SORROW. 
 
 A FTER that I continued my work of arranging General 
 -Ei- MacNeill's library with a mind very much at rest, 
 and in a spirit of thorough enjoyment. I saw now no 
 necessary end to my use of this delightful place, for soon 
 after we had made friends the General presented me with 
 a key to the garden entrance of the library. 
 
 " It's a symbol," he said, " of your right to come and 
 go without consulting me or anyone else, and I thought 
 you'd like to have it, though of course there'd be always 
 someone to open the door to you, and no one at all to say 
 you nay." 
 
 He was quite right. That symbolical key did add to 
 my happiness in the library, for I no longer felt an out- 
 sider, but as one who had an inalienable right there. 
 
 The General never interfered with my work, except to 
 approve of it, and occasionally to insist that I should sit 
 down and read and rest myself when I was very anxious 
 to get on with my librarian's work. " Very good, very 
 good!" I would hear him say behind my back while I 
 worked; and I would just toss him a greeting from off
 
 THE STORY OF A SORROW. 205 
 
 my ladder and go on, while he went briskly back to 
 his own work. We never talked except during the more 
 or less long half-hour we gave to our tea. 
 
 The General was tremendously energetic, and he was 
 working hard those days getting things into order. No 
 one, he determined, should place his bric-a-brac or statu- 
 ary or pictures but himself; he had an extreme sense of 
 tidiness, and was fidgety about his things. He would 
 have no help from the women servants. He and Haw- 
 kins did all the unpacking and hanging and setting up. 
 I could understand better now his angry indignation 
 when he found me handling his books, and took me for 
 a maid-servant, and I was quite proud of the immense 
 compliment he paid me when he left me so much to 
 my own guidance among them. 
 
 He was not exactly a reading man, though he could 
 enjoy an hour with a book and a pipe as much as any 
 man living. A great part of his library had come down 
 to him from his grandfather, the Bishop of Westchester, 
 and he had added to it with knowledge and pleasure, yet 
 without any very overweening delight in the books as 
 books. He told me once that he liked books about fight- 
 ing, whether the fight was in the natural or the spiritual 
 world. The Iliad or the Holy War equally appealed to 
 him, and in The Soldier's Pocket-Book, or the last treatise 
 on gunnery, he was pretty equally at home. 
 
 When we met at tea-time, we each gave a report of 
 what we had been doing. The General himself always 
 fed Paudeen with a few Naples biscuits and a little
 
 206 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 saucer full of milk-and-water, after which he was dis- 
 missed. "Now, right about face march!" the General 
 would say, adding, " Discipline is necessary for little dogs 
 as well as for human beings if they are not to infringe 
 the rights of others." And Paudeen soon understood 
 that at "March!" he was to retire to the mat and ask for 
 no more food. 
 
 Sometimes after tea I went, at the General's request, to 
 see what he had been doing. Rose Hill was going to be 
 a very beautiful house, I thought, not being used to the 
 rich colours and deep dyes of the carpets and draperies, 
 of which the General had a great profusion. These made 
 a fine background for the statues and the pottery and 
 bronzes and silver. I used to think it all too beautiful 
 for an old soldier, whose own tastes I gathered to be 
 quite simple. Once I said something of the kind to him. 
 We were great friends by this time, and I could risk 
 being impertinent. He had called me to see a Clytie in 
 front of a piece of Indian embroidery, purple, bronze, and 
 scarlet. 
 
 " She's lovely," said I heartily. " What a beautiful 
 house you will have presently, and all for yourself, 
 General!" 
 
 "Ah!" said he, "you're thinking it's thrown away on 
 the old soldier." 
 
 " Oh, no," I said hastily, "I didn't mean that!" 
 
 " You did, child, and you were thinking as well, though 
 you'd be too gentle to own it even to yourself, that I am 
 an old fool for gathering such things when a few years
 
 THE STORY OF A SORROW. 207 
 
 must see them sent to the hammer. And you're right, so 
 far as you know. But when I was gathering them I had 
 no thought of surrounding my own worn-out old life with 
 beauty and luxury." 
 
 He sighed and turned away, and I remembered how 
 he had spoken before of someone who had taken his 
 angry words seriously and had left him. I felt very 
 sorry for the General, and very indignant against that 
 unknown person, whom I only wished I had there to 
 give a bit of my mind to. 
 
 "Why don't you have your sister to live with you, 
 General?" I asked, for he had told me he had a sister 
 living in London. 
 
 " What, Lucy!" he cried. " Oh, we'd be flint and steel ! 
 The same house wouldn't hold the two of us for long, 
 though we're really attached to each other. Wait till 
 you've seen Lucy, and you'll understand what a pre- 
 posterous suggestion you've made, young lady." 
 
 I had told Aline in my letters about General MacNeill, 
 and how I was enjoying myself arranging his books, and 
 by return had came a perfect tornado of messages from 
 Lady O'Brien to her old friend, and a letter from Aline 
 saying how glad she was I had found such a solace in 
 my loneliness as my visits to Rose Hill. I really was 
 not sorry now that I had missed Kilkee. I felt sure I 
 should not have enjoyed it half so much as I was enjoy- 
 ing my life at home. 
 
 One afternoon the General walked home with me, and 
 made the acquaintance of the twins whom at first his
 
 208 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 aspect nearly put to flight and the two boys. He be- 
 came great friends with them. The boys were quick to 
 recognize in him the boyishness that in a sense placed 
 them on a level, while there were all his achievements, 
 which they had learned Heaven knows how to give 
 the friendship that romantic tinge of hero-worship which 
 just made it perfect. The meeting resulted in a visit to 
 Rose Hill, which was the first of many. By this time 
 the house was getting into order, and the General was, 
 as he would have said, off duty; and as for me, they 
 never disturbed me. I might slip away after tea, and 
 leave the party on the lawn, following those diagrams 
 of the General's in which he showed how a battle was 
 fought 
 
 I have laughed to look back and see the stiff old veteran 
 and the boys all down on their knees making a battle- 
 field in the gravel of the path, while the little girls peered 
 between them, scarcely less fascinated. 
 
 Nor was the General always the raconteur. He was 
 ready to listen with kindling eyes to the story of the big 
 trout caught below the Lacken Falls last May, or that 
 wonderful adventure when the boys had climbed to the 
 eagle's eyrie, happily during the bird's absence, and had 
 discovered a perfect charnel-house. It was a feat never 
 repeated, for Aline had been so frightened about it, and 
 so stern, that they had taken her will for law. 
 
 "Fine boys, fine spirited lads!" the General said to me 
 one day. "They ought to be serving Her Majesty. They're 
 cut out for soldiers."
 
 THE STORY OF A SORROW. 209 
 
 " Not both of them, General," said I. " We want one 
 boy at home to take care of so many women." 
 
 " He'd take care of you all the better for a few years' 
 soldiering. However, duty's duty, and if the lad sees his 
 post is here, and he can find work to occupy him, let him 
 stay. Why isn't the second lad at Sandhurst?" 
 
 " Sandhurst means money, General." 
 
 "Pooh!" he said very fiercely, " what is money?" 
 
 " A commodity which we Brandons lack very much." 
 
 He looked at me sharply, and muttered to himself that 
 something must be done ; the fine lads couldn't be allowed 
 to loaf the best part of their lives away; but as he didn't 
 speak to me, I took no notice of what he said, and the 
 matter dropped. 
 
 A day or two later, when the General was having one 
 of his field-days with the boys and the twins, I heard 
 them all come in from the lawn, and tramp upstairs to 
 the General's private domain. I did not hear them come 
 back, and presently the tea was brought in and set on 
 a table. 
 
 " Ring the bell, Jane," said I. 
 
 Jane rang the bell and departed, but no one came. The 
 tea stood some minutes, and then I rang again, but with 
 no result. 
 
 "Ah!" said I to myself, "they are so absorbed in their 
 discussion that they have not heard." And so I went in 
 search of them. 
 
 I found my way to them by the low hum of voices, 
 and when I entered the room where they were I came 
 
 (M436) O
 
 210 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 upon the whole party bending over a table on which 
 there was an open map. The General was tracing for 
 them the path of a retreat, and so absorbed were they 
 that they did not hear me come in. 
 
 I looked about me with interest. The room was bare 
 even to nakedness. A little iron bed stood in one corner. 
 There was a high wooden desk, a few penitential chairs, 
 a bath with a can of cold water standing in it, a shelf 
 with a few shabby books obviously of a devotional kind. 
 On the wall, between some soberly-coloured texts, were 
 one or two prints of famous soldiers; and above the 
 mantel-piece, with its row of pipes, its pistol-cases, and 
 a long sword in its scabbard, there hung a portrait in 
 pastel of a young man, the one bit of colour in the room. 
 
 I gazed at it fascinated. It recalled to my memory the 
 young man who had been so kind that day long ago at 
 Annagassan Races. Why, it was he surely the expres- 
 sion, the eyes, the mouth, at once grave and humorous. 
 I had not forgotten him all those years, and I had no 
 doubt about him now. How strange to find his picture 
 here in General MacNeill's room! 
 
 "Hullo!" said Hugh, suddenly espying me. "Here's 
 Hilda. You'll have to do it all over again for her. 
 General." 
 
 " Perhaps you don't know," said I, " that the tea's been 
 standing a quarter of an hour, and the bell has rung 
 twice. It's not what I call discipline, General." 
 
 " No more it isn't," said the General gaily. " I've been 
 training the young recruits badly, but we were fighting,
 
 THE STORY OF A SORROW. 211 
 
 Miss Hilda, and in war-time we take a snack when we 
 can. Run away, youngsters, run away, or the tea won't 
 bear drinking." 
 
 The next day when we were alone I spoke to General 
 MacNeill about the portrait, with a curious shyness for 
 which I was at a loss to account. 
 
 "Ah, the portrait!" he said after me. "You noticed it. 
 And what did you think of it, my dear?" 
 
 A film came over the fine blue eyes, and I was half- 
 sorry I had spoken of it, yet I was very curious to find 
 out who the original was. 
 
 " I'm not interested in it as a work of art," I said, " but 
 I can't help fancying that I once saw the original." 
 
 " Did you, now ? " said the General with eager excite- 
 ment. " Like enough, my dear. He was stationed close 
 by here with his regiment some years ago." 
 
 " It's the very same," said I. " I thought I remembered 
 the eyes and the mouth. I wonder the boys didn't notice 
 it; but perhaps they've forgotten him. They were only 
 children then." 
 
 " How did you meet him ? Tell me everything about 
 it," cried the General, and in his excitement the film of 
 suffering rolled away from his eyes, and left them bright 
 once more. 
 
 I told him the story of my accident. 
 
 "Ah," he kept saying, "that was so like my Lance! 
 Yes, yes; Lance was always so kind and clever. He kept 
 his wits about him when other people got theirs scattered. 
 Ah, good boy! good boy! " and so on.
 
 212 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 When I had finished he sank into a reverie, so that he 
 forgot to tell me who Lance was. I had to recall it to 
 his memory. 
 
 " I have often wished," said I, " to know the name of 
 the gentleman who befriended us in so timely a way, 
 but in the confusion I never asked, and afterwards we 
 found that he had gone away. I don't even know to 
 this day." 
 
 "Why, bless me, haven't I told you? Lance is my boy, 
 my own boy, my son." 
 
 " Why, to be sure he is," said I. " Now I know how 
 it is that when you look kind and funny you have 
 reminded me of somebody. Of course the colour is all 
 different, but the expression is the same." 
 
 " In looks Lance is the image of his dear sainted young 
 mother. But I daresay there is an expression, as you 
 have seen." 
 
 " Why isn't he with you, then?" said I bluntly. 
 
 The General lifted his eyes upwards, and again the 
 strange film of suffering came over them. 
 
 "For five years now," he said, "I have not known 
 if my son is dead or living." 
 
 " Poor General!" said I stupidly, feeling for the moment 
 as if I too had had a blow. 
 
 "I deserved my punishment," he went on in a low 
 voice. " I had not then learned to bury my will in the 
 Will. I was a hot-headed, wilful, evil-tempered old man, 
 though even then the Light was leading me. I tried to 
 force my will on the boy, and when he would not have
 
 THE STORY OF A SORROW. 213 
 
 it, for he too had a will of his own and something of a 
 temper, I bade him begone, never thinking he would take 
 me at my word. But he did, and from that hour to this 
 I was alone till you came." 
 
 " But why don't you ask him to come back?" said I. 
 
 " He volunteered for special service in Afghanistan, 
 and there he disappeared. Whether he was killed or 
 taken prisoner, none knows, except God. But I am sure 
 that if he could have come to me, he would have come 
 long ago. His anger against me could not have endured 
 all these years." 
 
 "You poor, poor old man!" said I, beginning to cry: 
 the story had made me feel so lonely and forlorn. 
 
 The General came round and stroked my hair tenderly. 
 
 "Good little girl!" he said, "to be so sorry for an old 
 man's trouble." But indeed I felt as if the trouble were 
 my own. " There, my dear," he went on. " Don't spoil 
 your pretty eyes. Kneel down with me now, and let us 
 resign ourselves to the Will. Wherever my boy is, and 
 it is hard not to know what is befalling him, he is never 
 out of reach of the Power and the Love." 
 
 We knelt down then, and the poor old General poured 
 out a prayer which I thought most heart-breaking in its 
 pathos. I seemed to realize, as he revealed his heart 
 unconsciously, all the fears my old friend had had to 
 endure for his boy in the hands of a cruel enemy. The 
 prayer seemed to help and comfort both of us. When we 
 stood up I took the General's brown old hand in mine. 
 
 " I am sure he will come back," I said fervently.
 
 214 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 "Thank you, my dear, thank you," he said hastily; 
 and then he added, "I am sure you are a blessing, a helper 
 and comfort sent from God to a lonely old man." 
 
 Then he told me how he had come to quarrel with his 
 son. He had tried to make a marriage for him with a 
 certain Miss Milbank, and when the young man had 
 refused to accept his father's choice for him the hasty 
 quarrel had ensued. 
 
 "Now, my dear," said the old General sadly, "you 
 understand how it is that I come to have so many pretty 
 things. I would have given up everything to them, so 
 long as they kept me in a corner of their hearts, and a 
 corner of their pretty house, where I could look on at 
 my boy's happiness, and see perhaps the little grand- 
 children growing up about me. I wanted to settle him, 
 to ensure his happiness, as if I could be his Providence. 
 Well, well, and I thought May Milbank cared for him, 
 but afterwards I found that I was all wrong." 
 
 " Dear General," said I again, " I am quite sure he will 
 come back."
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 I VISIT THE GREAT WORLD. 
 
 IT must not be imagined that during those happy weeks 
 I had been quite forgetting my novel. On the con- 
 trary, it grew steadily during the morning hours in which 
 I worked at it, and it was not the worse, I am sure, for 
 the new pleasantness that had come into my life. 
 
 As time went on, and the friendship between myself 
 and the General throve, I even allowed myself to be per- 
 suaded to read him some chapters of it; and finding him 
 so full of interest and so excellent a critic, I went on with 
 the reading of it as it grew. He had all the love of a 
 story which belonged to the youthfulness of his heart, 
 and I found that the more romantic I grew and I had 
 been rather shy of the romantic passages at first the 
 keener grew his interest. 
 
 Indeed, he took my characters as seriously as if they 
 had been living men and women, and would argue with 
 me vehemently about the exact course of conduct that 
 might have been expected from one or another, a de- 
 lightfully flattering thing to an author. In nine cases 
 out of ten he was right, and I was not too proud to
 
 216 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 accept his suggestions, so that the book, as it grew, came 
 really to have a part of the General in it, and I used to 
 say we had better publish in collaboration. 
 
 I was going to look for a publisher for Love in the 
 Valley, though I did not at all expect to be like those 
 silly people in novels who make tremendous successes 
 with a very first book. I expected to have a very stiff, 
 uphill fight before I should even see my name on the 
 title-page of a book. 
 
 " And when I do see it," I said to the General, " it will 
 not be my first book. Why, my first book was burnt 
 early in my teens!" 
 
 The interest the General took in my hero, Maurice 
 Westwater, was something really touching. 
 
 " However you've managed it, young woman," he said, 
 "you've made a success of that lad. Somehow he re- 
 minds me of my own boy." 
 
 As all the General's suggestions about the development 
 of Maurice's character tended, I felt sure, to make him 
 more and more a portrait of Lance, I was not surprised 
 if, by and by, the likeness came to be more than a 
 shadowy one. 
 
 One fine September afternoon brought Aline home, and 
 overjoyed I was to see her. The sea-breezes had given 
 her dear fair cheeks a touch of brown which delighted 
 me, while her step was brisk, and her eyes tranquil as I 
 had hardly dared to hope. 
 
 The very first thing she did when she came into the 
 house, before she removed her wraps, was to go upstairs
 
 I VISIT THE GREAT WORLD. 217 
 
 to Pierce's room, which Oona had kept all those months 
 with drawn blinds. She remained there only a few 
 seconds, but in the time she had drawn up the blinds, and 
 flung all the windows open to the sweet air. 
 
 " I am going to put the twins next door to you, Hilda," 
 she said when she returned, "and keep for myself that 
 room which has known so much of heaven." 
 
 While she drank her tea we all gathered about her, and 
 poured out our stories about the new tenant of Rose Hill, 
 and the joys of his domicile. 
 
 Aline listened with her maternal smile. 
 
 "What a kind old man he must be!" she said in a pause 
 of the crowding voices. 
 
 " Not so old as all that amounts to," said one of the 
 boys rather resentfully. "You don't call sixty old, 
 Aline?" 
 
 "Well, I don't call it exactly young," said Aline, smiling. 
 "Still, I thought your friend was older, more Lady 
 O'Brien's contemporary." 
 
 "Oh! he knew her when he was quite a young fellow 
 and she was a married woman, long after she took Peter," 
 said Hugh. 
 
 " Dear boy !" said Aline. " Peter!" 
 
 "Well, doesn't she always call him so herself?" pleaded 
 Hugh, unabashed. 
 
 " Why, he has a son no older than you, Aline," said 
 Cusha, the younger of the twins. 
 
 " Oh, a son!" said Aline; "and where is he?" 
 
 " They don't know. He went with a party to Kabul,
 
 218 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 and the vhole of them disappeared. 'Awkins thinks it 
 as likely as not that he was tortured and killed." 
 
 " Cusha!" cried I, " have you been talking to Hawkins ? 
 Not 'Awkins, remember." 
 
 " 'Awkins he calls himself, and I did talk to him a little, 
 wee bit." 
 
 " The twins," said Hugh, with a grin, " think no end of 
 Hawkins. Why, they're always talking to him, and the 
 General knows, and says Hawkins will teach them nothing 
 but good. Why, he's drilling them now, and he's teach- 
 ing them to ride! He says they're the gamiest little ladies 
 he ever heard tell on." 
 
 " I hope they haven't been running wild," said Aline, 
 with an apprehensive glance at me. 
 
 However, I was sure the General was right, and that 
 his soldier-servant was fit to be trusted with our little 
 sisters. 
 
 A day or two later the General and Lady O'Brien met 
 at Brandon, and such a delightful interchange there was 
 of reminiscence and compliment that we younger ones 
 hardly got in a word. Esther, I thought, after her absence, 
 looked listless and preoccupied. I was very anxious to 
 know how affairs were going with her, and got her to 
 myself after a while. But she had really nothing to tell. 
 Her lover had wished to write to her during their 
 absence from each other, but she had forbidden it, and 
 then, woman-like, she was half -sorry. 
 
 " He hates the secrecy as much as I do," she said, wring- 
 ing her hands, " and is always anxious to speak. Now I
 
 I VISIT THE GREAT WORLD. 219 
 
 think I shall let him. I do not feel that we are so help- 
 less now that I have gran. " by this name she had come 
 to call Lady O'Brien, "and I am sure the General would 
 help us if we needed help. I used to feel that we were 
 only a parcel of friendless girls and children caught in 
 the net of that wicked old spider who ruined us." 
 
 She shuddered violently. 
 
 "I dream of Sir Rupert at nights, of him and that 
 wicked man of his terrible dreams of injury and death 
 to my Harry. I can't make him see his grandfather as 
 I see him, nor believe the necessity of watching him as 
 one would watch a wild beast. I have the fear for two, 
 the loneliness and the helplessness." 
 
 " Poor Essie ! " I said ; " you are all nerves. Why, how 
 you tremble! This must be put a stop to, Essie, or I'll 
 speak myself. After all, what can Sir Rupert do except 
 turn his grandson adrift? We are in a law-abiding 
 country, more or less, within reach of police and magis- 
 trates, and the strong arm of the law generally. You are 
 making yourself nightmares, darling." 
 
 " That is what Harry says ; but I cannot shake off the 
 fear. Do you remember that when I was a child I used 
 to dream of him, of Sir Rupert and his dogs, and scream 
 out at nights. It is so lonely up there at Angry that 
 anything might be done, and no one a whit the wiser." 
 
 " Now, Essie," said I, "if this goes on you'll make your- 
 self ill, and then who is to see after Harry? He is wiser 
 than you are. Let him tell Lady O'Brien that you love 
 each other, and let him tell Aline also. Promise me that
 
 220 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 you will. I am sure you will not find Aline hard, and 
 your godmother will be, I am sure, all on your side." 
 
 Esther promised me, and looked happier when she had 
 given the promise. 
 
 A day or two later something very surprising and de- 
 lightful happened. The General came over to see Aline 
 in the afternoon, and mentioned in the course of conver- 
 sation that he had to go to London on business, which 
 would probably occupy him a week. 
 
 " I shall stay with my sister in Bloomsbury," he said, 
 " and I was thinking that you might perhaps be so kind 
 as to trust Miss Hilda to my care. There is a little bit 
 of business we might be about arranging while we're 
 there." 
 
 " It would be very nice for her, General, and she has 
 had no holiday, poor dear!" said Aline. "It is very kind 
 of you, indeed. But the business?" 
 
 "Ah! Miss Brandon, that is Miss Hilda's secret, unless 
 she likes to share it with you." 
 
 "Are you sure she knows it herself, General?" said I, 
 with a wild hope springing up in my heart. 
 
 " Well, this is the way of it, Miss Brandon," said the 
 General. "This very industrious young lady has, it 
 seems, not only arranged my library for me, like a born 
 librarian, and even begun to catalogue it, but she has 
 written a novel, or the big end of one, during your 
 summer holiday." 
 
 "A novel, Hilda!" cried Aline with hands upraised. 
 
 "And a very excellent one, if I'm any judge at all," said
 
 I VISIT THE GREAT WORLD. 221 
 
 the General; "but we want an expert opinion, and I'm 
 going to ask my old friend Linklater, of Linklater, Lee, 
 & Warner, Paternoster Square, to pronounce upon it. I 
 believe he'll read it himself for my sake, and let us know 
 the result within a week." 
 
 "Oh dear General!" cried I, "what an angel you 
 are!" 
 
 " My dear child, you've been very good to me, and it's 
 nothing at all, nothing," said the General hastily. " So I 
 may write to Lucy, Miss Brandon, to say I'm bringing 
 a young lady?" 
 
 " Thank you very much, General It won't be trouble- 
 some to Miss MacNeill?" 
 
 " Lucy'll be delighted. She'll be for taking the child to 
 half the societies in London that affect her particular 
 views. Lucy is a good soul, though we don't agree on 
 many points. There, Miss Hilda, don't look alarmed. 
 You and I are going to have a real good holiday-time 
 and see the sights. Lucy shall only have you when there's 
 something really pleasant to see or do." 
 
 I made joyful arrangements for my little expedition, 
 and the question of frocks was set at ease by Lady 
 O'Brien's having just presented me with an autumn out- 
 fit exactly like Esther's, only differing in colour. A long 
 blue-gray cloak with a fur collar, and a smart little felt 
 hat with an eagle's feather, made me all right for travel- 
 ling, and I was not likely to have social engagements 
 that would require fine indoor raiment. 
 
 The journey was a delight to me, though I certainly
 
 222 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 got a little tired on the way up to Dublin. However, a 
 Turkish bath, which the General prescribed for me, and 
 a good dinner did wonders; and afterwards we went 
 down to Kingstown, where I had a snug little cabin to 
 myself on the mail-boat, and slept all night like a top, 
 Indeed I awoke to the swaying of the boat and the swish 
 of water under the port-holes, and to hear the stewardess 
 saying that we would have just time for breakfast before 
 getting into Holyhead. 
 
 I felt it delightful to be taken such care of as I was on 
 that journey. A man's kindness is, I think, always more 
 touching and even more complete than a woman's; and 
 the dear old General seemed to think of me at every turn. 
 Then he had such a way of making railway porters, and 
 people like that, fly to obey him that we seemed to get 
 everything done for us sooner than other passengers. I 
 could see that he "tipped" generously, but it wasn't that, 
 for how could they know beforehand? Perhaps his way 
 of looking in a towering passion imposed on them, though 
 with my knowledge of him it made me laugh to think of 
 anyone being afraid of the General. 
 
 When we reached Euston our luggage there was not 
 very much of it was piled on top of a hansom, which I 
 thought such a strange and delightful vehicle, and the 
 General gave an address which I did not catch, but which 
 certainly sounded different from Bloomsbury. When he 
 had got inside he explained to me. 
 
 " We are going to dine before we go to my sister's, my 
 dear. My sister has some very odd ideas about food, as
 
 I VISIT THE GREAT WORLD. 223 
 
 you'll discover presently, and I take all my meals out 
 when I'm with her. But when we get to her you must 
 follow my example, and pretend to eat. Don't say you 
 have not had your dinner there is no such thing as a 
 white lie, child but seem to eat when she sets the things 
 before you." 
 
 " But won't she know we're very late ? " said I. 
 
 " Not she. Lucy's meals occur according to the hours 
 she comes in from her committee meetings. She never 
 knows what hour it is apart from those." 
 
 We had a most enchanting meal at a very gorgeous 
 French restaurant, all lit with electric light and very gay 
 with coloured shades and flowers and mirrors and such 
 odd, odd people. 
 
 "I thought you'd like it," said the General, highly 
 pleased at my little cries of rapture. "Personally I 
 prefer the Blue Posts, but there is a man here who can 
 cook a sirloin, and you can enjoy the kickshaws." 
 
 I did enjoy the long menu very much indeed, and 
 rather pitied the General and his plain fare. When we 
 had finished, he rose up and uttered a sigh. 
 
 " And now for Lucy," he said. 
 
 I began to feel rather alarmed about Miss MacNeill. 
 However, there was always the General to befriend me, 
 so I plucked up heart of grace. 
 
 When we reached Bloomsbury Square, the houses of 
 which seemed to me very high and gloomy, the door was 
 opened to us by a pretty little maid, who beamed all over 
 at seeing the General.
 
 224 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " Well, Phyllis," said he, " how are you, and how's your 
 mistress?" 
 
 "Quite well, thank you, sir. The mistress has only 
 just come in. She will be with you in a minute, sir." 
 
 " Just take this young lady upstairs to get her hat off, 
 and make her very comfortable, Phyllis. Mind, very 
 comfortable, like a good girl." 
 
 " That I shall, sir," said Phyllis with a pretty smile. 
 
 I found my bedroom very dainty, and what amazed 
 me in London, it looked into a great chestnut tree, of 
 which the leaves were all a warm lovely gold. 
 
 "Why, how comfortable I shall be, Phyllis!" said I. 
 " It all looks so nice." 
 
 " Yes, don't it, Miss?" said Phyllis. " 'Tis a very com- 
 fortable 'ouse, only for the eating, which it is awful." 
 
 I noticed that Phyllis pronounced her "h's" very 
 curiously, but I shall not attempt to reproduce her 
 pronunciation. 
 
 " The mistress she's vegetarian, Miss, and expecs every- 
 one to fill 'emselves with what I calls garbage. An' as 
 for beer, you wouldn't get a drop, not if it was ever so. 
 But cook, she's recommended by the Vegetarian League, 
 an' supposed to be strict. She 'as a joint sent in reg'lar 
 by the greengrocer, an' put down for artichokes an' such 
 like. So we gets our bit. There, poor girls has to take 
 care of theirselves" and, with a defiant little flounce 
 of her head, as if she rebutted my imaginary objections, 
 pretty Phyllis marched out of the room. 
 
 I found Miss MacNeill a very brisk old lady, with
 
 I VISIT THE GREAT WORLD. 225 
 
 bright eyes and rosy cheeks and white teeth, quite like 
 what the General would have been if he had lived at 
 home in peace and a temperate climate. 
 
 She had been to a meeting of the Anti- Animal Food 
 Society, and was very full of the subject. She told some 
 very dreadful stories, and had a way of flinging them at 
 the General's head as if he were a monster of cruelty, 
 though, I am sure, poor dear, he loves the animals as 
 much as anyone could, and the greeting between him 
 and his sister's asthmatic pug and waddling poodle had 
 been very pleasant to witness. 
 
 He bore his sister's stories wonderfully for a while, I 
 suppose because he was conscious of his own deceit about 
 the dinner. At last he got testy. 
 
 "Drop it, Lucy!" he cried; "can't you see you're mak- 
 ing this child quite pale? It isn't a subject for dinner 
 anyhow." 
 
 "Yet, Hugh," said Miss Lucy with a little spark of 
 battle coming into her eye, " I've seen you sitting down 
 to a meal of bleeding flesh which didn't seem to repel 
 you the least bit in the world." 
 
 The General recovered his temper suddenly. 
 
 " That was in the old days, my dear," he said. 
 
 "Ah, if I could really believe you were changed!" she 
 sighed. 
 
 " Anyhow," he said hastily, " here's this child sending 
 away her food untasted." 
 
 I thought this low of the General. 
 
 " You mustn't take things to heart, my dear," said Miss 
 
 (M436) P
 
 226 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 Lucy kindly. " What you're eating has caused suffering 
 to nothing that lives. There, I must go slow with you, 
 I see. But after you've been a week in this house, my 
 dear, you'll never see meat eaten again without a shudder. 
 I've just brought out a new pamphlet, Hugh 'The 
 Feeder on Flesh, or the Human Vampire'. The League 
 tells me it is most successful." 
 
 " I dare say," grunted the General. " But what is this 
 I am eating now, Lucy? Some sort of truffle? It isn't 
 half-bad." 
 
 " We call it vegetarian beefsteak. It is a sort of toad- 
 stool which grows on rotting bark," said Miss Lucy, look- 
 ing pleased. 
 
 "Great Heaven! Lucy, do you want to poison us? 
 Don't touch a bit of it, Hilda. I don't mind being dosed, 
 Lucy, but when it comes to being poisoned it's another 
 matter. I wish you'd tell us beforehand the constituents 
 of your . . . feeds." 
 
 It is impossible to reproduce the contempt and loathing 
 which the General managed to impress into the last word. 
 Miss Lucy smiled placidly. I noticed after a time that 
 when the General grew angry she became calm. 
 
 " Ah, Hugh, Hugh," she said with an air of affectionate 
 reproof, " if you'd only give up your horrible bloodthirsty 
 diet how your temper would be the gainer, to be sure!"
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 FREDA'S MYSTERY. 
 
 MISS LUCY," said I next morning at breakfast, "do 
 you know the way to Parson's Green?" 
 
 " Parson's Green let me see. It's somewhere beyond 
 Chelsea, I think." 
 
 "What do you want to know for, child?" asked the 
 General. 
 
 " I have a sister living there whom I wish very much 
 to see." 
 
 "Ah! you'd better go to-day then, for I've to spend a 
 tiresome morning over business. We can meet again in 
 the afternoon, and I'll take you to a theatre in the even- 
 ing. Perhaps Lucy would come too." 
 
 "Not I," said Miss Lucy, good-temperedly. "My 
 theatre-going days are over. I wonder that you, with 
 your convictions, Hugh, would be seen in such places." 
 
 " I saw a play once," said the General simply, " called 
 ' The Flag of England ', The hero was a very brave man 
 and a good soldier. I thought that anyone must be the 
 better for seeing it. Of course, I don't know much about 
 theatres, Lucy, but I thought I'd like to show this young
 
 228 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 lady some gaieties. Perhaps you could advise me where 
 to take her?" 
 
 " I was going to offer to take her to the annual meet- 
 ing of the Society for the Abolition of the British 
 Army." 
 
 " No societies please, Lucy," said the General a little 
 gruffly. 
 
 " I forgot you were a man of blood," said Miss Lucy, 
 " and didn't mean to be personal, Hugh. But about your 
 theatres, if you'll stick to Shakespeare and Adelphi 
 drama, I think you'll be quite safe. You'd better book 
 seats for Irving in Henry V" 
 
 "Thank you, Lucy, I will," said the General meekly. 
 And then turning to me: " If you've quite finished break- 
 fast, my dear, you'd better come along. I'll put you on 
 the way for Parson's Green." 
 
 I said I had quite finished. I had eaten a little por- 
 ridge, but found nothing else that I could eat. Eggs 
 were forbidden according to Miss Lucy's creed, and 
 though she had made a concession to my weakness so 
 far as to allow me milk, she ate her own porridge with 
 treacle and drank her coffee black, because, as she said, 
 "she'd feel that she was robbing the innocent offspring 
 of the cow if she were to do as we were doing." 
 
 I felt rather hungry as I stood up, but I really couldn't 
 face Miss Lucy's macaroni and haricot beans at a meal 
 which I always like best of all the meals of the day. 
 
 When I came downstairs with my outdoor things on, 
 Miss MacNeill looked at me critically.
 
 FREDA'S MYSTERY. 229 
 
 " What kind of a feather is that you are wearing, my 
 dear?" she asked a little sharply. 
 
 ' An eagle's feather," I answered. 
 
 " I hope they don't tear it from the living bird," she 
 said severely. 
 
 " It would be worse for them if they did," said I. " It 
 is a feather the boys found on the side of Brandon which 
 the golden eagle had dropped from his wing." 
 
 " Oh, I suppose if he dropped it there can be no wrong 
 to him in your picking it up?" 
 
 "I should think not," said the General. "Be easy 
 about Hilda, Lucy. She's as incapable of cruelty as you 
 would be yourself. You won't find her wearing ospreys." 
 
 " Oh no, indeed!" I asserted fervently, "I wouldn't if I 
 were to go hatless all my days." 
 
 " My sister's a good woman," said the General, as we 
 went down the steps together, " and is right about many 
 things though she does get hold of the wrong end of the 
 stick often. Still, I daresay if I had her convictions I'd 
 act up to them as she does. Aren't you hungry, my 
 dear?" 
 
 " I am rather, General." 
 
 "So am I. I've been saving myself for breakfast. 
 There is a quiet little hotel near here where we can get 
 fresh eggs and kidneys done to a turn. Mind, my dear, 
 you are never to make yourself ill eating Lucy's messes. 
 Fortunately she's not very observant, dear woman, and 
 you've only to pretend to eat. I'll see that you have all 
 your proper meals, my dear."
 
 230 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 We had a very snug litthe breakfast together, which I 
 enjoyed the more that I had been making up my mind 
 to endure hunger till I got to Freda's. What was to 
 happen if Freda was out after my long journey I would 
 not allow myself to think. 
 
 When we sallied into the street again the General 
 accosted a very burly policeman and asked him the best 
 way to get to Parson's Green. 
 
 "There's the thrain an' there's the bus," said the 
 policeman, to my surprise, in a brogue that might have 
 walked out of Brandon village yesterday. 
 
 "Can we get to it by way of Threadneedle Street?" 
 asked the General, whose business lay that way. 
 
 "Ye cud," said the giant with a genial smile that 
 robbed the speech of any suggestion of impertinence, 
 "just the same way as ye'd get to the spot I'm stannin' 
 on be way av Chaney an' Americay. That is, ye'd be 
 turnin' your back on it all the time till ye pulled up 
 straight forenint it. Now, look here, sir," with a change 
 of tone to one of the liveliest concern, "if I was you I 
 wouldn't be putting her in them dirty thrains this fine 
 day. 'Tis an elegant ride a-top o' the bus from Piccadilly 
 Circus" 
 
 "Is it too far for a cab ride?" said the General 
 abruptly. 
 
 " Not if yez have the money to pay for it. 'Tis half-a- 
 crown be justice, three an' six be fairity." 
 
 " We'll have the hansom, then," said the General. 
 
 " Ye'll be makin' no mistake, sir," said the policeman,
 
 FREDA'S MYSTERY. 231 
 
 " an* here's the best horse on the rank just trottm' up in 
 the nick of time." 
 
 The General put me in carefully, and then pressed 
 something into my hand. I looked down at the gold in 
 my palm. 
 
 " I ought to go with you by right, and would if I could, 
 my dear," he said with a face that admitted of no denial. 
 "Remember this little holiday is entirely my affair. 
 Have you silver?" 
 
 I said I had. 
 
 " Well, then, hansom back ; remember I shall have you 
 on my mind till I see you again. But your sister will 
 put you in a cab." 
 
 The cab journey seemed to me interminably long, and 
 yet there was no sign of green fields. At first our way 
 lay through very fine streets, with beautiful shops, and 
 crowded with such traffic as I had never dreamt of. I 
 found the hansom more exhilarating than any form of 
 progression I have ever known since I used to ride Pat 
 Maloney's colt barebacked in the old days; and I felt 
 very much excited about going to see Freda and her dear 
 little boy. Despite an occasional qualm of doubt about 
 Freda, my affection for her was as strong as ever, and 
 from sheer excitement I felt myself turning hot and 
 cold. 
 
 Still, I thought it must be a long long way to Parson's 
 Green yet, for we were now going through miles of mean 
 little streets full of tiny pea-soup-coloured houses all 
 exactly alike and indescribably monotonous. I was
 
 232 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 amusing myself by trying to discover what it was those 
 wonderful costers were shouting, when suddenly the 
 hansom pulled up before one of a hundred little houses, 
 and the man shouted down on the top of my head : 
 
 "Now, Miss, Magnoliar Cottage. 'Ere you are!" 
 
 "Oh!" cried I, "are you quite sure? Is this Grove 
 Avenue ? It isn't at all the kind of place I meant. Are 
 you quite sure this is Parson's Green?" 
 
 "All right, Miss!" he replied stolidly, "Magnoliar 
 Cottage, Grove Avenue, Parson's Green. See it wrote up 
 there on the corner of the road." 
 
 I looked and saw a plate with "Grove Avenue" inscribed 
 on it, and above the door of the house, in ridiculous 
 stucco work, I read " Magnolia Cottage ". I descended, 
 bewildered and doubtful, and let the cab go half un- 
 willingly. There must be another Parson's Green, and 
 when I had discovered my mistake how should I ever 
 find another cab in this wilderness of shabby little 
 houses ? 
 
 However, the man drove off, and I knocked at the 
 door. It was opened by a little maid of about fifteen, 
 quite neat, with her white cap and apron, and quite 
 unconscious of the large smut on her little perked-up 
 nose. 
 
 " Oh, please," said I, in a voice which was, I am sure, 
 full of distress, "does Mrs. Hazeldine live here?" 
 
 " She do, miss," said the little maid, in a most sympa- 
 thetic voice. " Please to walk in. I'm expectin' of her 
 shortly, an' Mrs. Vincent too, that 'as gone to take
 
 FREDA'S MYSTERY. 233 
 
 Master Jacky a walk on the Common. You've 'ad 'ard 
 work, I expec', to find the 'ouse. Most people 'as." 
 
 She ushered me into a little room, quite pretty and 
 refined, though there wasn't an article of substantial 
 furniture in it except a piano. However, with frilled 
 muslin curtains, and a few water-colours on the wall, 
 low chintz-covered chairs, and a hanging-shelf of books, 
 to say nothing of a canary singing in the window and a 
 bow-pot of autumn leaves, it was surprising what cheer- 
 ful results were obtainable. There was the tiniest spark 
 of fire in the grate, but it was burning briskly, for the 
 morning had a touch of frost. Still, the place was very, 
 very poor, though anyone could see that it belonged to 
 ladies. I began to guess dimly that our dear, loving, 
 foolish Freda had been deceiving us all those years since 
 Jim's death. 
 
 Presently there was the click of a latch-key outside, 
 and in came Freda herself, looking so tired and worn, 
 and rather shabbily dressed. She cried out when she 
 saw me, and we flew into each other's arms. When she 
 released me at last, she looked at me with a mixture of 
 shamefacedness and fun in her expression, which recalled 
 the old happy Freda of long ago. 
 
 " Well, darling," she said, " and what do you think of 
 Magnolia Cottage?" 
 
 "Oh, Freda, you bad girl!" I answered, "why did you 
 deceive us all like this?" 
 
 " It was rather silly, I acknowledge, for I was sure to 
 be found out some time. Still, I certainly did not in-
 
 234 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 augurate the deception. Aline chose to believe me a 
 rich woman, and since the belief seemed a comfort to 
 her, I let it stand; I thought it would be a blow to her 
 if I were to undeceive her, and she would fret about us, 
 and want Jacky and me at Brandon, where already, as I 
 well know, there is little enough to spare." 
 
 "No," I said; "now I think of it, you never did con- 
 tribute a brick to our air-built castle. The only thing 
 was that you seemed to stay in fine houses, and meet fine 
 people, and all that." 
 
 " In some houses even the governess is allowed to meet 
 the guests, not in all, though." 
 
 " Still, I think Aline will be hurt, Freda. You should 
 have trusted her." 
 
 "Ah! well, if I did wrong I was punished. I have felt 
 often and often that you must all think me such a mean 
 wretch, rolling in riches, and never doing anything for 
 any of you. I often felt inclined to throw it up and 
 confess. Perhaps I distrusted myself, for there have 
 been times when I grew tired of the struggle, and if 
 Aline had known and had said 'Come', I would have 
 been spiritless enough to come, and to stay. Still, the 
 times have not been many," she said more brightly. 
 " The world has not been bad to me, as a whole, and I 
 had always my dear old friend to come to, and she kept 
 my boy for me, more tenderly than I could myself." 
 
 " This room is really pretty, Freda." 
 
 " The rooms are all pretty, I think, because a woman 
 like Mary Vincent dwells in them, and imparts some-
 
 FREDA'S MYSTERY. 235 
 
 thing of the fragrance of herself to them. In Magnolia 
 Cottage it is possible to forget Grove Avenue." 
 
 "And just think, Freda; we took your house, from the 
 extreme rurality of its title, to be situated in a delicious 
 country place." 
 
 " We rather run to rural titles in our London slums. 
 See, over there is the ' Daisies', and next door the ' Grass- 
 plot', yonder the 'Hawthorns' and the 'Laburnums' face 
 each other." 
 
 "Who lives in them?" 
 
 "Usually working-men and their very large families. 
 We're considered guilty of sinful waste, so Polly, our 
 handmaiden, tells us, because we don't let lodgings. But 
 come upstairs and see the rest of the domicile. You'll 
 take off your hat and cloak and stay for a good long day. 
 Oh, by the way, you haven't told me yet how you come 
 to be here!" 
 
 I told her, as I was taking off my hat and washing my 
 hands, which I was surprised to find seemed to require 
 constant washing in London, about the General, and his 
 business and my business, and that I had not to meet 
 him till six o'clock. 
 
 "How lucky I was at home!" she cried. "We are 
 going to have such a long long gossip, for though Alirie's 
 so faithful a letter-writter there are a thousand-and-one 
 things that never get into letters. Yet, if you had come 
 last week you would have found only Mrs. Vincent and 
 Jacky. I have just left a place, and am going on to 
 another next week."
 
 236 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 "You poor dear!" said I. "The last must have been a 
 very nasty place, to make you look so tired as you did 
 when you came in." 
 
 " It was rather nasty," she said, " but the next is going 
 to be much nicer. It is in a lovely part of Devonshire 
 too, and I shall like the lady to whom I am going." 
 
 When we had left the pretty little chintz-hung bed- 
 room and were seated at the fire downstairs, I asked 
 Freda how it was she came to be so poor. 
 
 " Jim had saved nothing," she said. " He always meant 
 to, poor love, but he was so generous, and then he never 
 could have feared that his wife and boy would want. 
 You know his parents are extremely wealthy, and he 
 was their favourite son." 
 
 " Yet they let you want." 
 
 "They didn't know. I must do them that much 
 justice. They thought I was left comfortably. But 
 they must have had a strange opinion of me, for they 
 offered to adopt my Jacky and make him heir to all 
 their money. I took the suggestion as an insult, and 
 walked out of the house. I have never heard of them 
 since, and I am sure Jacky and I have disappeared as 
 effectually from their ken as if the sea had opened and 
 swallowed us." 
 
 "What horrid people!" cried I impulsively. 
 
 "They are very good people in their own way," 
 answered Freda quietly. "But they are bitterly pre- 
 judiced, Lady Hazeldine especially. It was a great blow 
 to her when Jim married a wild Irish girl Especially as
 
 FREDA'S MYSTERY. 237 
 
 she had wanted him to marry a great pet of hers, a city 
 heiress named Cicely Lambton. She had wished for it 
 almost from the babyhood of both, for she and Mrs. 
 Lambton were school-friends. I believe she thought that 
 if Jim had married an English girl he would not have died." 
 
 "Stupid woman!" said I, not knowing how to express 
 my indignation against Jim's mother to Jim's widow. 
 " Why, she ought to have loved you a thousand times 
 better because you loved Jim and he loved you, and you 
 both have lost him." 
 
 " That doesn't always follow, little Hilda. Perhaps I 
 shall not love the woman who will, one day, step into the 
 first place in Jacky's heart and evict me." 
 
 " Tell me, Freda," said I, " have you had horrible times? 
 Is it so bad for her ' who fareth up and down another's 
 stairs'?" 
 
 " I don't know," she said thoughtfully. " I have met 
 hard and unkind, as well as gentle and kind people. Yet, 
 on the whole, I am not sorry that I have had to work. It 
 would have been worse if I had had to sit down with 
 folded hands and look at the wreck of my life, worse 
 surely amid the Hazeldine luxury, worse even at dear 
 Brandon. Ah, no, no! work has made it possible for me 
 to live." 
 
 Her face had assumed a very tragic expression, the 
 face now of a woman of many sorrows. 
 
 " It has been sweet too," she went on, her tense expres- 
 sion relaxing a little, " to help to keep up this little home. 
 Always, if things grew too hard for me, there were peace
 
 238 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 and love waiting for me here. Ah, the poor women with- 
 out such a spot on earth! how I pity them! And then 
 there was always saving up for me a delicious thing that 
 I looked at in my moments of leisure, the thought of 
 coming home to Jacky." 
 
 Her face softened, and went back into the little round- 
 nesses and dimples I remembered. Then she laughed, 
 and it was like the sun coming out. 
 
 "Why, here is Jacky!" she cried out; and I saw a 
 sweet- faced elderly woman and a swaggering small sailor 
 pass the little bow-window. 
 
 She ran out and opened the door, and with a word to 
 her friend came back, proudly leading her son. 
 
 " Hullo!" said he, with the free manner of a born son of 
 Neptune, "you're a pretty girl, but you aren't half as 
 pretty as my Muddie!" 
 
 "Oh Jacky, Jacky, you rude boy! and you silly boy 
 as well! This is your dear pretty Auntie Hilda come to 
 see you. Go up and say ' How d'ye do?' nicely, and kiss 
 her." 
 
 "How d'ye do?" he said, swaggering up to me with his 
 hands in both pockets. " I'll tell you what I'd like very 
 much. A guinea-pig, or else a white rat. You don't 
 happen to have thought of bringin' one? Hey?" 
 
 Freda burst out laughing even while she tried to stiffen 
 her features to an expression of rebuke. I looked from 
 her to the curly golden head and blue eyes of the boy. 
 Ah, well! Freda is a happier woman than most, though 
 she is a widow indeed.
 
 ; FREDA CAME BACK, PROUDLY LEADING HER SON
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 FREDA BREAKS SILENCE. 
 
 HALF an hour later we were sitting at a pleasant meal, 
 and I was only sorry not to be hungrier, for the 
 Magnolia Cottage of my imagination could not have 
 provided more inviting viands than the cold fowl, and 
 rolls and butter, and honey and fragrant coffee, which 
 made our lunch. Freda flushed with pleasure when I 
 said so. 
 
 "Ah!" she said, looking towards her friend, "if any- 
 body can make a shilling go as far as a pound, it is Mary 
 Vincent." 
 
 " Hardly that, my dear, but I am not an old campaigner 
 for nothing, and the advantage of living in a slum is, 
 that food is sold at prices within reach of the poor. 
 Then I spent a couple of years of my girlhood in a 
 French convent, and learned from Sister St. Genevieve 
 to make coffee," said Freda's friend. 
 
 I liked Mrs. Vincent uncommonly well. She was 
 quite plain-looking, but had, I thought, one of the sweet- 
 est expressions imaginable. Her hair, too, was very 
 pretty, white, and with a wave in it, a striking contrast to
 
 240 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 her olive-hued cheeks and quick, brown eyes. But look- 
 ing at her one only got an impression of the goodness 
 of the face; the irregular features and small eyes and 
 colourless skin faded into insignificance as compared with 
 that. 
 
 Master Jacky, too, had his chair at the table, beside 
 Mrs. Vincent. I must say he behaved very well for so 
 small a boy, and one evidently so much petted. Except 
 for an occasional indiscretion, such as asking why wasn't 
 there chicken and honey every day, his conduct was ex- 
 emplary. Indeed, with regard to her training of him it 
 was evident that Mrs. Vincent had not been a soldier's 
 wife for nothing. She had a number of military words 
 of command, which she uttered with an immovable face 
 whenever the young gentleman seemed on the point of 
 becoming obstreperous. It amused me very much to 
 see the boy's prompt obedience to them; but that was, 
 as she explained to me, because Jacky was to be a 
 soldier when he grew up, and he had already begun his 
 training. 
 
 I couldn't help thinking that she was probably better 
 for the young pickle than his own dear little mother, 
 whose eyes danced and twinkled with such merriment 
 when Jacky forgot that he was a soldier acting under 
 orders. Mrs. Vincent's face never lost its sweet serious- 
 ness for one moment, even when Freda and I were visibly 
 merry. 
 
 After lunch Mrs. Vincent carried the boy off and left 
 us to our chat There were so many things we had yet
 
 FREDA BREAKS SILENCE. 241 
 
 to say to each other. After I had told all the home news 
 I came back to Freda herself. 
 
 " Now tell me," I asked, " what a ' nasty place ' is like, 
 such as your last 'place'?" 
 
 I made a wry face over the word, which seeing, Freda 
 laughed. 
 
 " Well, I'll tell you, dear," she said. " In taking my 
 last place, which was to be for a short time, I thought 
 I'd depart from the beaten path of governessing, which 
 is really a very sad and lonely life. So I answered an 
 advertisement for a lady to act as hostess at a Bays- 
 water boarding-house, to take the head of the table, 
 receive people who came on business, and all that kind 
 of thing. The salary was miserable, but the place sounded 
 an easy one, and there was one great inducement. I could 
 have Jacky to stay with me whenever I liked, and oh, 
 my dear, if you could know the pangs of loneliness I 
 have suffered for want of my boy at times! The thought 
 of a ' place ' where Mary could fetch him to me now and 
 again for a few hours was like heaven." 
 
 "Poor Freda!" 
 
 "Oh, poor Freda indeed! You shall hear how it 
 turned out. I found the woman a coarse, red-faced, 
 cunning-eyed person, not at all more prepossessing be- 
 cause of her oily smile. I took a dislike to her at once, 
 though she meant to be very amiable. She said that her 
 business was so large that she could no longer carry out 
 all the duties of hostess herself, she required another 
 ' lydy ' to help her. The real truth was that she was 
 
 (H436) Q
 
 242 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 conscious of her own deficiencies, and had come to see 
 that she lost clients by receiving them herself. She 
 really did want a lady to coax people to come in." 
 
 " She must have had common-sense anyhow," said I. 
 
 "Oh, my dear, she knew well! She wasn't sensitive, 
 even with regard to herself. She told me that my duties 
 would be, besides presiding at table, receiving visitors, 
 &c., to do such small household tasks as a lady would 
 naturally do in her own house. She hoped, she said, that 
 I wouldn't mind doing a little mending." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Well, I said I didn't mind anything in reason. Then 
 she took me upstairs and showed me my bedroom. It 
 was the merest attic, but I could see a tree or two from 
 it, and at the foot of my bed there was a little old cot, 
 which clinched the matter for me, for I imagined Jacky 
 in it, and the joy of undressing and dressing him myself, 
 and listening to his soft breathing all night. So I said 
 I'd come, without further ado." 
 
 "Is it so seldom you have Jacky to yourself, Freda?" 
 
 " Well, you see, Hilda, Mary Vincent has been like his 
 mother so long that when I come home I don't like to 
 disturb the existing order of things. She, dear woman, 
 would utterly efface herself if she had the least suspicion 
 of my longing to do everything for Jacky once in a 
 while. But when I come home she thinks I need rest, 
 and am to be waited upon, and will have me lie in bed 
 in the morning while she does everything for both of 
 us."
 
 FREDA BREAKS 'SILENCE. 243 
 
 She sighed a little wistful sigh, and then smiled. 
 
 " But I always say to myself that I am Jacky's mother, 
 and that is enough happiness for me. I can yield the 
 rest to her who loves him so much also, and has never 
 had a child of her own. It is so long since I have had 
 things to do for Jacky that I daresay I should be awk- 
 ward and unaccustomed now." 
 
 "Poor Freda!" I said again. 
 
 "And rich Freda," she laughed. "I will confess to 
 you, Hilda, that I got over my first great pang when I let 
 my friend bathe Jacky while he was yet a baby. That 
 was " 
 
 She broke off abruptly, and I knew she had been 
 going to say "after Jim died", and then had choked 
 over it. 
 
 "She had been so good to us to me and Jim that 
 when I saw she was hungry for the child, I stood aside. 
 She never guessed that it cost me anything, dear soul! 
 I cannot understand now how mothers give up the 
 personal care of their babies to anyone else if they can 
 help it. In that way, at least, rich women are not so 
 happy as poor women." 
 
 "But the boarding-house, Freda?" I said. 
 
 " Ah, yes ! I was forgetting. The money was very 
 small, but having Jacky whenever I wished, as the 
 woman said I might, outweighed everything, so I went. 
 Mary thought, too, that the duties, being light, would 
 not wear me out, as I have been worn out where there 
 were half-a-dozen energetic children. But I soon found
 
 244 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 that I was to be a kind of white slave. I was to be 
 housemaid and housekeeper and hostess all rolled into 
 one. Even at the hour when a servant's duties are over, 
 mine were going on. If Mrs. Tatlow that was her 
 name saw me sitting still for a moment she found new 
 work for me. Why, after a hard day I have sat up till 
 two in the morning mending house-linen. There were 
 years of arrears of mending, all waiting for me." 
 
 "Why did you stay when you found what it was 
 like?" 
 
 "I couldn't come home at once, because I had been 
 having a long rest, and the money was all spent. And 
 Lady A. had promised to secure me the place I am now 
 going to in Devonshire, so I thought I would stay on, 
 and endure it without complaint for a while. Then the 
 summer came, and there was an unusual demand for 
 rooms, and Mrs. Tatlow came to me one day with her 
 oily smile, and said she had been obliged to take my 
 room for a time, and if I would not mind the incon- 
 venience of sleeping downstairs she thought she could 
 make me very comfortable. I said I shouldn't mind, for 
 I had not then seen the room, and my attic, since the hot 
 weather set in, had been so hot that I thought I couldn't 
 be much worse off. But, oh, Hilda, if you had seen the 
 room! It had no window, but was lit by a grating in 
 the door. It ran under the street. It was dark, noisome, 
 unwholesome in the last degree, for it had only been in- 
 tended to put brushes and such things in. My wretched 
 little bed almost filled it completely. I protested when
 
 FREDA BREAKS SILENCE. 245 
 
 I saw the place, but quite in vain. My own room was 
 already taken." 
 
 "And you slept in it, Freda?" I cried out, horrified. 
 
 " I could do nothing else. Mary had taken Jacky to 
 Broadstairs we have always managed to give him a 
 month at the sea every summer. This little house is 
 taken for that period by two maiden ladies, friends 
 of Mary's, who like to come up once a year to see the 
 pictures and shops. I had nowhere to turn to. I sat 
 down in the horrible little hole and cried bitterly. Then 
 I concluded that I could stand it till Mary came home, 
 and so I set my teeth to it." 
 
 " The woman ought to have been put in prison," I said 
 angrily. 
 
 Freda laughed. 
 
 " That is precisely what Susan, the kitchen-maid, said. 
 ' She did ought to be in 'Olloway, that's wot she ought.' 
 Indeed I got plenty of sympathy from the overworked, 
 badly-fed, worse-housed, kitchen staff. I often wondered 
 at the warmth of their partizanship, poor dears. They 
 were worse off, as far as sleeping accommodation went, 
 than myself, though, of course, a servant has always this ad- 
 vantage over an untrained lady, that she can leave. There 
 are so many of us" said Freda, with a watery little smile. 
 
 "You had some friends, anyhow?" I said. 
 
 "Yes; though I wouldn't listen to their sympathy; not 
 so much for my dignity's sake that sort of thing levels 
 human beings somehow as that I couldn't bear it at the 
 time,"
 
 246 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 "You poor darling!' I cried, embracing her. 
 
 Again the rainbow smile flitted over her face, and she 
 went on. 
 
 " The sympathy that really touched me most came from 
 the ostensible master of the house. Before this time 
 I had only seen Mr. Tatlow flitting along a corridor, or 
 diving into a doorway to get out of my way. He was 
 the most absurd little man to look at pale-faced, tearful- 
 eyed, with long red weepers of whiskers, and a general 
 miserableness of expression." 
 
 " So well he might have," said I acridly. " Well" 
 
 " So well he might, my dear. Susan informed me that 
 he had to clean all the boots, sometimes forty pairs a day, 
 in the season. He was the most oppressed of all his 
 wife's victims." 
 
 " Why didn't he assert himself, then?" 
 
 "Oh, Hilda, you should have seen him! Poor little 
 soul! He was one of those men who make you feel it to 
 be so tragic that they should be men and yet like that. 
 Coventry Patmore makes his plain heroine talk of the 
 
 sadness 
 
 "That God should e'er 
 Make women, and not make them fair ". 
 
 But the tragedy of men like poor little Mr. Tatlow is 
 sadder still" 
 
 "How did he show his sympathy?" I asked. 
 
 " Oh, poor little soul ! by facing his wife for me with 
 the spirit of a lion. He was miserably afraid of her, yet 
 he did that. And he apologized to me with a delicacy
 
 FKEDA BREAKS SILENCE. 247 
 
 and good feeling that showed he had the heart of a 
 gentleman in his poor little frame." 
 
 "He could do nothing?" 
 
 " No, only get himself into hot water by his champion- 
 ship of me. I believe the woman was horribly violent 
 when she was angry. She vented all her violence on him, 
 for though she was savagely angry with me she said 
 nothing. I only knew it by her glance of malevolence 
 when she thought herself unnoticed." 
 
 "And you slept a month in that dog-hole?" 
 
 "No, I'm ashamed to say I didn't. I'm not made of 
 the martyr- stuff. I had been ten days or so in it when 
 Lucy, the chamber-maid, told Miss Dahlia Warner, an 
 American who was staying in the house, about my habita- 
 tion. Miss Warner was very rich, very pretty, and very 
 spirited. She came down and saw the place for herself. 
 'Now, why did you do it, Mrs. Hazeldine?' she asked; 
 ' don't you know it was self-murder ? Look at yourself 
 in the glass!' I did so, and saw a very white face and 
 very big eyes. ' Besides, you are encouraging that wretch 
 to treat some other helpless, poor creature in just the 
 same way.' 
 
 " Then I burst out crying, and she suddenly put her 
 arms about me affectionately. 'There, I am worrying 
 you, you poor little thing!' she cried; 'as if you had not 
 had enough to bear already. Come up to my room and 
 tell me all about it. The woman is out, but if she were 
 not, she wouldn't dare to question me." 
 
 So I went with her, and, being broken down by her
 
 248 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 sympathy, I told her everything. When I had finished, 
 she said to me, 'There! Can you get your things together 
 in a quarter of an hour? Yes, I am sure you can, for 
 that kind creature downstairs will help you. You are 
 coming with me to the Cecil as my guest for a fortnight, 
 and as long afterwards as you will stay/ 
 
 And so she carried me off. She returned later on for 
 her own luggage, paid Mrs. Tatlow for her board, and 
 gave that good lady a stinging little bit of her mind. 
 The woman was obsequious to her, for her main business 
 is with Americans, and she dreaded the mischief Miss 
 Warner might do her. But for all that she kept my 
 pretty things." 
 
 'Your pretty things, Freda?" 
 
 "Yes. She came here on some excuse after I had 
 promised to go to her, and saw my pretty things, my 
 bits of ivory and silver and lacquer that used to be in 
 our little home at Oodeypore. No matter how poor I 
 was, I would never part with them. She insisted on 
 my bringing them with me to decorate her drawing- 
 room, and now she holds them in default of the warning 
 she says I ought to have given her." 
 
 " But she can't keep them, surely?" 
 
 "Oh no! she will give them up. It is only what Miss 
 Warner calls a game of bluff. That good friend was re- 
 called suddenly to America, and since I would not go 
 with her, as she wanted, she put me and my affairs in 
 charge of her betrothed, who is a young solicitor in an 
 old firm in Chancery Lane. He, Mr. Douglas, says that
 
 FREDA BREAKS SILENCE. 249 
 
 Mrs. Tatlow is only squirming a little before giving up 
 the things. So we shall let her squirm." 
 
 " And now," Freda said, " let us have some tea, for I 
 seem to have been talking an incredible amount." 
 
 When she had ordered the tea, I said to her: 
 
 "Is Aline to hear this, Freda?" 
 
 "I think not," she said wistfully, "unless you think 
 that I had better own up to everything. But it would 
 only grieve her." 
 
 " Indeed, I think you are right," I said. " It would 
 nearly break her heart. I think you were cruel to us 
 too, Freda, to endure such things." 
 
 " Well, it was not for very long," she answered. 
 
 "I hope that 'place' was quite exceptional," I said, 
 again mouthing the distasteful word, and with a severe 
 aspect. 
 
 " Oh, quite ! There aren't many Mrs. Tatlows in this 
 world. By the way, Hilda, since the mood for confession 
 is upon me, I may as well own up something else." 
 
 "What! more boarding-houses?" I cried. 
 
 "Oh, no! I am done with boarding-houses. But what 
 will you say when I tell you that I have been lady's-maid 
 to Lady A." 
 
 " A real lady's-maid! Not a sort of lady lady's-maid?" 
 I exclaimed, rather horrified. 
 
 "I thought you would be shocked. Yet it was the 
 pleasantest work I have ever had. She is very beautiful, 
 and, in her odd, flighty way, very kind. I used to love 
 doing her long ashy-coloured hair. It was down to her
 
 250 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 feet when I used to brush it out at night. I often brushed 
 it till I could scarcely stand, for the pleasure of handling 
 it." 
 
 "You were not like an ordinary servant, Freda, 
 surely?" 
 
 " Oh, no! though I was prepared to accept that when I 
 went to Overton Towers. But I found a little room 
 allotted to me close by Lady A/s own rooms, and she 
 had given orders that I was to have my meals there. So 
 I was not with the other servants, and when I wasn't on 
 duty I could read or write, or do anything I liked in my 
 own little room." 
 
 " How long did you stay, Freda?" 
 
 "Well, not many months. Her ladyship said to me 
 suddenly one day, when I met her eyes in the mirror: 
 ' I should like to know, my dear, why you are masquerad- 
 ing as my maid '." 
 
 "What did you say?" 
 
 " I answered her quite frankly. ' Because I'm a poor 
 woman, Lady A., and I find the genteel professions too 
 hard for me/ ' Well/ she said, ' you are everything I 
 could desire as a maid, but I'm going to do better for 
 you than leave you at the mercy of a heartless woman 
 of fashion like myself, and in a perfectly anomalous 
 position. Besides, you make me look a hag beside you. 
 I shudder when I see your face near mine in the glass. 
 I'm taking back Cecile, an unscrupulous wretch, but an 
 admirable maid, for I'm more comfortable with her. 
 And I'm going to send you to Mrs. Des Vceux, an ex-
 
 FREDA BREAKS SILENCE. 251 
 
 quisite old blind lady in Devonshire, for whom you will 
 read and write and cut roses that's all. I've kept you 
 so long to make sure you'd be good to her. And now I 
 am sure." " 
 
 " She arranged it for you like that?" 
 
 " Yes, just like that. I was to have gone to Mrs. Des 
 Voeux in a short time after I left Lady A., so I came 
 home and imprudently spent all my money. Then it 
 happened that the lady whom I was to replace, whose 
 marriage was leaving the vacancy for me, had to post- 
 pone her departure for six months. So I was rather 
 thrown on my beam-ends, and that is how I had the 
 pleasure of making Mrs. Tatlow's acquaintance." 
 
 " And I suppose Mrs. Des Voaux's will be a case of 'and 
 they lived happy ever afterwards'?" 
 
 Freda gave a little shudder. 
 
 " Oh, no, Hilda ! I hope I shall have a house of my 
 own one day, though I don't see how it's going to happen. 
 Servitude is all very well so long as one is young, but 
 she ended with an expressive little gesture, flinging out 
 both her hands. 
 
 "Freda," said I impulsively, "have you ever had an 
 offer of marriage in those years of your wanderings?" 
 
 " An embarrassment, Hilda. My suitors have ranged 
 in age from sixteen to sixty nay, seventy-five and in 
 eligibility from the ownership of a pocket-knife and 
 three white mice to the ownership of an iron-foundry 
 and a steam yacht." 
 
 "And you never met anyone you could say 'yes' to?"
 
 252 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 Freda's merry face changed all at once, and a wounded 
 red flew into her soft, pale cheeks. 
 
 " You are only a child, Hilda," she said coldly, " and so 
 I forgive you." 
 
 "Oh, Freda," I cried, "I didn't think you'd care so 
 much!" 
 
 "I am Jim's wife," she answered, "as well as Jim's 
 widow!"
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 BOOKS AND SOLDIERS. 
 
 fTlHE day after I saw Freda I went with General Mac- 
 -L Neill to call on his friend, Mr. Linklater. I can tell 
 you my heart beat as we went in through the narrow 
 nest of streets that make the publishing quarter, and I 
 saw names on the street corners that told me we were in 
 the heart of my Mecca. Paternoster Row, Ave Maria 
 Lane, Amen Corner, I whispered the names to myself 
 as softly as though I were a votary. 
 
 We went through a narrow passage into a kind of 
 shop on the first-floor of a tall house, but no one was 
 buying or selling. Only a clerk sat at a desk, with a pen 
 behind his ear. amid walls of books in bundles of brown 
 paper, or standing in piles in their outer wrappings. 
 
 "Mr. Linklater, sir?" he said in answer to the General; 
 "I will see if he is in. Will you and the lady step in 
 here?" 
 
 We followed him into a stuffy room, ventilated only by 
 a window opening on the outer office. The walls of the 
 room were of muffled glass, and when the clerk had 
 switched on the electric light and left us I was free to
 
 254 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 walk about and look at the books published by the firm 
 which stood about on tables and shelves. Would mine 
 ever be there, I wondered, as we waited! 
 
 The General had taken off his hat and was mopping 
 his brows with his handkerchief while he grumbled at 
 the stuffiness of the place. It was stuffy but I didn't 
 mind it a bit. I thought I should love to be one of the 
 people whose shadows I could see passing along the glass 
 corridors to breathe and smell books all day, to see 
 famous authors, and handle proofs. 
 
 Presently the clerk returned to us and asked us to 
 follow him. We went up in a comfortable padded lift, 
 which in itself was a delightful experience to me. Then 
 the clerk opened the door, and we stepped out into a long 
 corridor. He knocked at a door which stood a little open, 
 and in answer to a " Come in " he ushered us across the 
 threshold, and left us with a low bow. 
 
 A tall, dusty, untidy man came to meet us, and greeted 
 the General very warmly. I stood in the background 
 and looked at him. His reddish-brown hair was sprinkled 
 thickly with gray. He wore a very old coat, the lapels 
 of which bore some traces of tobacco ash. He had a rough 
 grayish-brown beard and bright shrewd hazel eyes. He 
 seemed as if he were always running his hands through 
 his hair in desperation, and as if he had slept in his 
 clothes. 
 
 So much I noticed while the old friends were greeting 
 each other. Then the two turned to me. 
 
 "And so this is the author of Love in the Valley \" said
 
 BOOKS AND SOLDIERS. 255 
 
 the great publisher in a singularly musical voice. "Upon 
 my word, I could not have believed it was such young 
 work, General." 
 
 "Ah! Miss Brandon is very old for her age," replied 
 the General, highly delighted at the implied compliment 
 to the book. "You've been reading it, Linklater?" 
 
 We had sent in the manuscript before leaving home. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Mr. Linklater, still looking at me very 
 kindly; "I've dipped into the early chapters. I think 
 well of it, very well, for a first book. It isn't a Jane 
 Eyre, you know, nor a Wuthering Heights. Still, 'tis 
 pleasant reading, and very hopeful." 
 
 " That's all we wanted you to say," said the General, a 
 bit testily. " We're not fools about our first book, are 
 we, Hilda?" 
 
 " Indeed," said I truthfully, " Mr. Linklater's verdict is 
 far kinder than I had dared to hope for." 
 
 The publisher looked away from me as if the subject 
 were done with. 
 
 " And how are pheasants in your part of the world, 
 MacNeill?" 
 
 "Not much, Linklater. Poaching has been rampant 
 for years. There's no such system of fat and comfortable 
 preserving as you have here; and then the heavy rains 
 kill off the young birds, all but the strongest." 
 
 "Ah! that's bad, that's bad. Any blackcock?" 
 
 "The mountains simply swarm with every kind of 
 game, from deer to snipe. But nothing's been taken care 
 of. My place has been derelict for years. I'll put in a
 
 256 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 couple of keepers, and next year you must come and judge 
 for yourself, if God spares us all." 
 
 "Why shouldn't He?" said the publisher hastily. 
 
 " Ah ! Linklater, you're a young man still, while I've 
 turned sixty. And life is uncertain to the youngest of us." 
 
 " So it is, so it is!" said the publisher, as if the question 
 had no interest for him. "I hear you've good trout rivers 
 over there." 
 
 " The best in Europe," said the General heartily. " My 
 cook will send you up a salmon-trout if you'll come over 
 next May or June off your own rod, too that you'll 
 never forget as long as you live." 
 
 "You were always a lucky dog!" said the publisher 
 enviously. "I suppose there's no man alive hates the 
 smell of printer's ink more than I do, and yet here I am, 
 condemned to it all my life, while you've been living the 
 life of a man, fighting half the time, and now sitting down 
 to enjoy your elder years in a half -wild country flowing 
 with milk and honey." 
 
 "You are shocking this child, Linklater," said the 
 General, and indeed I had heard him in amazement. 
 " Miss Brandon thinks Paternoster Row the centre of the 
 universe." 
 
 The publisher looked at me kindly. 
 
 " So did I when I was her age, or I shouldn't be where 
 I am now." 
 
 " Hear him !" said the General. "Who would think the 
 man was one of the finest scholars alive?" 
 
 " Grubbing among the bones of dead men."
 
 BOOKS AND SOLDIERS. 257 
 
 " My lad told me that when he was at Oxford you were 
 still remembered as the Bodleian Bookworm." 
 
 " I had less complimentary names than that. I was an 
 idle dog in those days, or at least learnt nothing that 
 could bring me honours. I read at my own sweet will, 
 and came out badly in the Schools, though better than I 
 deserved. I was really the idlest man of my time, except 
 Fennings of New, who lay all day in a hammock with a 
 pack of cards, and played the right hand against the left 
 when he could no longer get anyone to play with him. 
 He afterwards became a great colonial administrator, " 
 
 " And you a scholar, whose scholarship altogether over- 
 shadows you as a publisher." 
 
 "Well, well, I ought to have been a farmer, and tramped 
 the furrows all day in muddy boots. Books are not living." 
 
 "You're an ungrateful fellow!" said the General. "If 
 you were one of the failures, now?" 
 
 " Ah!" said the publisher; " everyone knows in his own 
 heart how much he has failed or succeeded. But here is 
 Miss Brandon, a beginner still at the cross-roads, and with 
 the will yet hers to choose which she will take. You're 
 not afraid of hard work, Miss Brandon?" 
 
 " Not a bit," I answered fervently. 
 
 "You can bear having your things rejected by stupid 
 editors and publishers, while they publish work you feel 
 to be infinitely less good? You can bear to see popularity 
 pass you by, on its way to writers whose work you 
 think beneath your contempt? You can bear to see 
 your books published and forgotten, as utterly as a stone 
 
 ( M 436 ) B
 
 258 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 is forgotten that is dropped in the water; and to endure 
 the stupidity and neglect of the critics, as well as of the 
 public?" 
 
 "I can bear it all," said I cheerfully. 
 
 " Well, then, if you can," said he, with a change of tone, 
 "you will find the roses in your path thicker than the 
 thorns. The work is exquisite for its own sake, and if it 
 is good, and it wiU be good, you will have a little audience 
 that will love you and it. You will never write a word 
 to fall on deaf ears. You will find even a few critics to 
 believe in you, and say so. And you will gain the most 
 unselfish friendship. I have heard of envy and malice in 
 literature, but I have never yet discovered them." 
 
 " Ah ! there speaks the cynic," said the General ; " and 
 yet you would tramp the furrows and depend on the 
 weather?" 
 
 " I would plant cabbages against the rainy time, so that 
 if my oats were rotting my vegetables would be waxing 
 fat. The weather is a good or a bad fellow according as 
 you take him." 
 
 " Well, Linklater, we're taking up too much of your 
 valuable time." 
 
 " I'm the idlest man in London this minute." 
 
 ' Well, if you are, come and lunch with us at the 
 Cecil." 
 
 " Ah ! but others are not so idle as I. I have a good 
 many people to see before lunch time. By the way, we 
 must meet again. Suppose you dine with me one even- 
 ing? I want to hear a good many things about yourself."
 
 BOOKS AND SOLDIERS. 259 
 
 As we went out Mr. Linklater drew the General aside, 
 and said something to him in a low voice. I guessed at 
 its purport, for the General shook his head very sadly in 
 answer. 
 
 "Ah, well!" said the publisher; "I wouldn't give up 
 hope, man. Lance was always a fellow of so much re- 
 source, and again and again men have returned after being 
 given up for lost, as he has been." 
 
 " And many have not returned," said the General. 
 "But thank you, Linklater, for your sympathy all the 
 same." 
 
 " We are both lonely men," said the publisher. " But 
 you have yet hope." 
 
 " And you have certainty," said the General, looking up 
 and lifting his hat. " I have often wished I could have 
 as much." 
 
 "Ah! that is where you religious men score." 
 
 " Yes," said the General simply; " I do not know where 
 my boy is, but there is One that knows." 
 
 The two men shook hands in silence. Then the pub- 
 lisher turned to me with his kind smile. 
 
 " We shall make you formal publishing proposals in a 
 day or two, Miss Brandon. It would never do to arrange 
 such matters during a morning call." 
 
 After we had gone out in the street the General told 
 
 o 
 
 me that Mr. Linklater had lost his wife and daughter by 
 scarlet fever a few years previously. 
 
 "Poor fellow! poor fellow!" he said; "he looks as if he 
 wanted a woman's hand about him. You would hardly
 
 260 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 believe, Hilda, that I remember him as one of the golden 
 youth?" 
 
 " I don't think the carelessness of his attire misbecomes 
 him," I said. 
 
 "Ah! it has a sad look to me, remembering him so far 
 otherwise." 
 
 " I always supposed that all scholars were rather dusty. 
 Books are such dusty things." 
 
 " Linklater was the exception. His wife was a lovely, 
 soft creature, and devoted to him. And the little red- 
 haired girl was a thing of such light and colour that she 
 seemed more like a bird or a flower than a human crea- 
 ture. It is hard to imagine Death stilling all that wild 
 and gracious life." 
 
 " Or fixing it for ever." 
 
 " True, my child. He carries the elixir of life if we 
 would only see it. But now, how are you pleased about 
 your own affairs?" 
 
 "Oh, dear General, how could I be anything but 
 pleased? And I owe it all to you. What a blessed, 
 blessed day it was that brought you to Rose Hill!" 
 
 "It was blessed for me. I have often since thought 
 it so strange that we should have been brought together, 
 you having known my boy." 
 
 I said nothing in answer to this, but as we were in a 
 hansom I just pressed my old friend's hand to assure him 
 of my sympathy. Then to distract his mind I told him 
 about Freda, and how I had got to the root of her mystery. 
 He was greatly interested.
 
 BOOKS AND SOLDIERS. 261 
 
 " She must be a brave creature," he said, " though I 
 think her foolish to have kept you all in the dark. But 
 young people are romantic, and will take views, especially 
 in the matter of self-sacrifice, that we sadder and older 
 ones cannot share. And there was no wilful deception; 
 the thing seems to have grown up of itself. But don't 
 you feel happier, now that your golden castles for her are 
 all in ruins?" 
 
 " I feel as if my sister had been given back to me," I 
 said, " and if I'm not mistaken, Aline will feel just the 
 same way." 
 
 "Ah, that's right! Better to have her heart in the 
 right place than to have her a rich woman, eh?" 
 
 " Much better." 
 
 " I fancy I knew Mrs. Vincent at one time," he said 
 musingly. " At least I remember meeting the wife of an 
 excellent soldier and good comrade, Ned Vincent, of the 
 Frontier Rifles. I heard he died of fever up-country. 
 I wonder if it could be the same!" 
 
 " I am sure it is," said I, " for Mrs. Vincent always 
 speaks of 'Ned'." 
 
 "I had no idea he left his widow poor. Something 
 ought to be done for her if she is Ned Vincent's widow. 
 I wonder if I have enough influence at the War Office to 
 try!" 
 
 "You had better make sure about her first. Supposing 
 we go to-morrow? I'll send a card to Freda to-night." 
 
 The thing was agreed upon, and the General and I 
 drove down to Magnolia Cottage next day. The General
 
 262 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 had gone out in the morning on a mysterious business, 
 and several brown-paper parcels of odd shapes had been 
 left afterwards by quickly-arriving errand-boys. I didn't 
 ask what the things were, but I guessed pretty accurately 
 without the assistance of Miss MacNeill's indiscretion. 
 
 She had accompanied us to the hall-door, and noticed 
 the General, with a pretence of there being no secrecy 
 about the matter, carrying his parcels to the hansom. 
 
 "Now whatever have you got there?" she blurted. 
 " Not a toy drum, surely. You're not going back to your 
 second childhood, Hugh?" 
 
 ''Madam," said the General in his angriest voice, 
 " folly and meddlesomeness are not confined to any age, 
 as you've the best right in all the world to know." 
 
 And he stalked away from the gibe I saw trembling 
 on Miss Lucy's lips. 
 
 When we were seated and packed round about with 
 very angular parcels, he explained to me apologetically 
 that he had taken the liberty of bringing some toys for 
 the little soldier. 
 
 "Your sister won't mind, my dear," he said. "She 
 will forgive an old man who once had a little soldier of 
 his own." 
 
 " She will think it very kind," I assured him, and indeed 
 those toys were a passport for the General to the hearts 
 of the two women who loved Jacky more than all the 
 world. 
 
 Mrs. Vincent proved to be the widow of the General's 
 old friend, and as they seemed to have a thousand things
 
 BOOKS AND SOLDIERS. 263 
 
 to talk of, Freda and I left them together while we made 
 Jacky's toilet. It had been made earlier in the day, but 
 he had undone it all by falling into the bath while giving 
 his puppy, Captain, a bath in honour of the brave soldier 
 man they were both going to be introduced to. 
 
 Jacky certainly looked very smart when we had got 
 him into a fresh white sailor suit, and with his hair more 
 curly than ever after his cold-water dip, presented him 
 to the General. Jacky immediately stood " at attention", 
 with his finger to his curls as a military salute. 
 
 " Why, come here, my brave lad, and see whether the 
 young soldier can learn anything from the old soldier!" 
 cried the General, beaming; and a few seconds later Jacky 
 was perched on his knee, showing him his good-conduct 
 stripes, and explaining that at the end of the year, if his 
 conduct was all that could be desired, he was to receive 
 a medal. 
 
 "Where are your medals, old soldier?" Jacky cried. 
 "And why don't you wear them on your tunic as I 
 shall?" 
 
 The general explained to him that custom required the 
 grown-up soldier to dress like an ordinary citizen at 
 times, and then he described, with the utmost painstaking, 
 so that a little child might understand, the various medals 
 he had, and the battles for which they were given. 
 
 Freda and Mrs. Vincent were as much absorbed as 
 Jacky. I enjoyed it from an outsider's point of view, 
 thinking how pretty it was the old man with the child's 
 heart bringing down his years to the level of the child's,
 
 264 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 and the two women with their pleasure and pride in it 
 all. 
 
 Presently, when they were quite old friends, for the 
 friendship advanced by strides, the General's gifts were 
 offered, and received with such shrieks of delight on 
 Jacky's part that I was fain to clap my hands to my 
 ears. 
 
 When we left, Jacky played us out, marching back- 
 wards and forwards as he had seen the Highland pipers 
 do in the streets, girt with sword and drum, and with a 
 shrill fife at his lips, so that all Grove Avenue turned out 
 to see. 
 
 "A brave little chap!" the General pronounced him; and 
 as we drove away he leaned from the hansom to look 
 back at him. I thought he looked sad. He was think- 
 ing of his own soldier boy, I made sure. 
 
 We had very gay times after that, and on several 
 occasions the General took Jacky with us on our expedi- 
 tions, bearing with the child so patiently and sweetly that 
 I thought no mother could have done more. Not that 
 Jacky didn't behave admirably. He had an immense 
 admiration for " Old Soldier" as he called him ; but then 
 a lively boy of six is apt to prove a handful to a veteran 
 with a gun-shot wound in the leg, and to a slightly- 
 limping girl. 
 
 We saw the Tower, and Hampton Court, and Windsor 
 Castle, and the exhibition at Earl's Court, and the wax- 
 works at Madame Tussaud's, and the Crystal Palace, all 
 with Jacky to bear us company.
 
 BOOKS AND SOLDIERS. 265 
 
 Then the General and I saw one or two theatres, and 
 one evening we dined with Mr. Linklater, and it was all 
 very pleasant. But by the time our little holiday was 
 up I was beginning to feel rather fagged, and to wish for 
 Brandon and the library at Rose Hill. 
 
 The very last morning we were in London came the 
 publishing proposal from Messrs. Linklater, Lee, and 
 Warner, with a stamped agreement for me to sign, which 
 I did, feeling it the proudest moment of my life. The 
 book was to come out before Christmas, and the proposal 
 seemed to me a very handsome one, for I should have 
 been overjoyed to get the book published without any 
 suggestion of being paid for it. 
 
 However, as the General said, that wouldn't be business, 
 or at least business as an honourable firm like Linklater, 
 Lee, and Warner understood it. 
 
 I couldn't send back the agreement till I had taken it 
 home for Aline and Esther and the boys to see, not even 
 if it delayed the book, but the General said he thought 
 there would be no fear of that. 
 
 And now that I had to look forward to such happy 
 things the book, and the reviews, and all that I longed 
 for the time to pass till the published book should be an 
 accomplished fact, and Hilda Brandon the name of a real 
 author.
 
 CHAPTER XXIIL 
 
 ESTHER. 
 
 I WAS welcomed at Brandon as rapturously as if I had 
 come out of a long exile, and delightful it was to see 
 the dear faces after even a short absence. It seemed to 
 me as if I had been ages away, and I was rather surprised 
 that the ducklings which had come out just before I left 
 appeared much the same black-eyed balls of yellow fluff, 
 and that the year had advanced so little during my 
 memorable eight days of absence. 
 
 I had so much to tell them that though I had travelled 
 all night I did not feel inclined to go to bed. I spent 
 the morning over my unpacking and distributing the 
 little gifts I had brought for each one. I kept till the 
 afternoon, when the young ones should have dispersed 
 and left me with Aline, the wonderful discovery I had 
 made about Freda. 
 
 Well, Aline didn't know whether to cry or be vexed or 
 glad over the knowledge that our Freda about whom 
 we had built so many golden dreams was after all in the 
 ranks of the workers. Yet I think, on the whole, the 
 relief of knowing that she was the same dear, generous 
 girl, only empty-handed now, outweighed all the rest.
 
 ESTHER. 267 
 
 Then my stories about Magnolia Cottage and Mrs. 
 Vincent and Jacky were so pleasant that Aline, after a 
 bit, grew reconciled to Freda's change of fortune. I gave 
 her an imploring little note which Freda had intrusted 
 me with, asking her to forgive the deception, which was 
 never seriously meant, and had somehow grown up of 
 itself. The humility of it brought the tears into Aline's 
 eyes. 
 
 " I will write to her at once, dear girl," she said, going 
 to her writing-table. 
 
 As she looked for a pen a sound caught our ears. 
 
 "Ah," she said, "it is Esther! We have not seen her 
 all the week. Entertain them, dear Hilda, while I 
 scribble a few words." 
 
 But when I went downstairs I found the pony and 
 phaeton with Dobson, and a note from Lady O'Brien, 
 saying that Esther had a sick headache and was being 
 kept in bed, but longed to see me; and would I drive 
 over and stay for dinner, or the night if I would? 
 
 "Yes, go," said Aline, "but you had better stay the 
 night, dear. It would be too much to drive back here 
 after your journey last night." 
 
 So I put one or two necessary things into a hand-bag, 
 and drove off to Annagower. 
 
 When I went into the drawing-room I found Lady 
 O'Brien alone, but no Esther. 
 
 " Your sister is asleep, Hilda," she said ; " and I won't 
 waken her, for I want a good long chat with you. Just 
 take off your hat and cloak and come to the fire, and
 
 268 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 we'll have tea in, and be comfortable. Have you a pair 
 of slippers in your bag ? Well, just put them on, don't 
 mind going upstairs. You look rather fagged already." 
 
 I found the low chair and the footstool before the fire 
 very comfortable indeed, for I was tired, but by no means 
 sleepy. I felt that Lady O'Brien wanted to say some- 
 thing, and feeling sure that it was about Esther's trouble, 
 I was too interested to be sleepy. 
 
 When we had each our cup of tea hi our hands, and 
 the fat page-boy had gone out, closing the door behind 
 him, Lady O'Brien opened the matter which I had seen 
 all the time trembling on her lips. 
 
 " Your sister has told me everything, child." 
 
 "Ah!" said I. "I wished she would. Has anything 
 new happened?" 
 
 "Nothing; but Esther is in trouble. We have heard 
 nothing of young De Lacy, though I have written twice 
 to ask him to come." 
 
 " That is curious." 
 
 " It is, because the boy is a gentleman, and because he is 
 head over ears in love with your sister. I have seen that 
 all along, but I pick the locks of no confidences. I knew 
 that presently my dear girl would tell me of her own 
 accord." 
 
 " He may be ill." 
 
 " That is what she says. She keeps saying over and 
 over that she can never undo the silence of the last few 
 months, during which he may have been ill and dying. 
 She has fretted herself into a fever."
 
 ESTHER. 269 
 
 " I am afraid he is not very strong." 
 
 " He is not strong enough for ill-usage. He would be 
 all right in the life he was brought up to. I'm afraid 
 Rivers was right when he was anxious about the boy 
 leaving Brandon. Where there is internal injury it is so 
 hard to know whether healing or hurt is going on." 
 
 " What are we to do, Lady O'Brien?" 
 
 " That's what I wanted to consult you about. You have 
 a clear head and a still tongue. Of one thing I am certain. 
 My girl is not going to have her tender heart broken if I 
 can help it, the Lord helping me." 
 
 She got up and paced about the room, all her little 
 frame tense with a nervous energy I had not suspected 
 in her. 
 
 "You think it has gone deep with Esther, Lady 
 O'Brien?" 
 
 " What do you think, you who have been her dearest 
 companion from babyhood?" 
 
 " I think it is once and for ever." 
 
 " I am sure of it. She is very innocent and very 
 romantic. She feels that she has been waiting for him 
 all those years, and about him all the dreams and the 
 poetry of her innocent and ardent heart have gathered." 
 
 " You know as much of her as I do, whose dearer self 
 she has been all our lives." 
 
 The old lady nodded a queer, triumphant little nod. 
 
 "Ah, Hilda!" she said, "love is a wonderful teacher, 
 and I love her like my own child. I would do everything 
 within the law of God to make her happy."
 
 270 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 "You don't think it hopeless?" 
 
 Lady O'Brien snapped her fingers. 
 
 "Hopeless! I see no obstacle that other people can 
 raise. The only obstacle I would acknowledge would be 
 the lad's coldness or unworthiness or " 
 
 She broke off abruptly. 
 
 " Or death," I said for her. 
 
 " That is in the hands of God," she replied, " but I pray 
 that He may will this girl, the joy of my old age, to be 
 happy." 
 
 "What do you propose to do?" 
 
 " Propose, child ? Well, first we have to find out 
 what's the matter with the boy. I've written to Sir 
 Rupert." 
 
 "What?" I cried. 
 
 "Written to his old villain of a grandfather, who, I 
 expect, is at the bottom of the mischief. I sent a boy 
 with it on one of your wild mountain ponies. He ought 
 to be nearly back by this time." 
 
 " You didn't tell him " 
 
 " I merely asked for an interview. I had thought of 
 driving over there, but I was afraid the rapscallion would 
 bar his gates against me." 
 
 " The country people would tell you it wasn't safe." 
 
 "Pooh! What a mass of superstition Las grown ur. 
 about the place! Just because it stands in a dark spec 
 and is surrounded by unwholesome weeds. Why, if I 
 could have hoped to ^et past the gates, I'd have gone like 
 a shot. Dobson would come and fetch me out after a
 
 ESTHER. 271 
 
 certain time. He's as brave as a lion, though you wouldn't 
 believe it." 
 
 " There are those horrible dogs." 
 
 " Poor, lumbering, unhappy brutes ! I should never be 
 afraid of them." 
 
 "All the same, I'm glad you didn't go, you intrepid 
 little fairy godmother." 
 
 " You'll see that I can be intrepid where it's a question 
 of fighting for my girl's happiness." 
 
 " Sir Rupert will never consent to the marriage, Lady 
 O'Brien." 
 
 "A fig for the man's consent! I only want to find out 
 where the boy is. If he cuts up rusty I'll tell him to go 
 and be hanged. I've a roof to cover them, and enough 
 for a young couple to live on, even with the old woman 
 in the chimney-corner." 
 
 " How good you are, Lady O'Brien ! No wonder Esther 
 loves you." 
 
 " It is she who is good to come here and brighten my 
 old life with her youth and freshness." 
 
 " You are very young in heart," I could not help saying. 
 
 "Ah! my dear, perhaps I keep my heart a little green. 
 I remember when I was young myself long before ever 
 I thought of my good Peter and how I loved somebody, 
 and thought I should die of losing him." 
 
 "But why did you lose him?" I whispered. 
 
 " He never thought of me, my dear, not in that way. 
 He never even suspected that I thought of him." 
 
 I looked at her in wondering sympathy.
 
 272 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " It was your grandfather, Hilda," she said. " He's a 
 saint in heaven to-day, dear fellow, but, upon my word, I 
 half wish he'd been less saintly, and had called out De 
 Lacy and put a bullet through him." 
 
 The transition was so sudden and characteristic that I 
 burst out laughing. Just then the page-boy came to the 
 door. 
 
 " Your ladyship's messenger has returned and brought 
 a note." 
 
 Lady O'Brien snatched the note from the salver. 
 
 "There, that will do. Never mind the fire. We'll 
 attend to it ourselves. Go out, and shut the door after 
 you." 
 
 She tore open the note, glanced at it, and then handed 
 it to me. It was written on a half-sheet of paper, 
 evidently torn from a letter, and with ink so pale as to 
 suggest an application of water to the ink-pot. 
 
 Sir Rupert De Lacy presents his compliments to Lady 
 O'Brien, and will do himself the honour of calling on 
 her to-morrow at Jive. 
 
 " Now, that's the letter of an ordinary human being," 
 said Lady O'Brien, " barring an eccentricity in the ink 
 and paper. Maybe the devil's not so black as he's painted." 
 
 " It's very polite," said I, " but I wouldn't trust him. 
 I'd distrust him all the more when he was by way of 
 being civil." 
 
 "Well, we'll see, we'll see. It won't be long till to- 
 morrow at five." 
 
 " I'll wait and hear what he has to say," I said.
 
 ESTHER. 273 
 
 " I'll tell you what. I'd better see him alone. But if 
 you'd care to be present at the interview you can just 
 sit inside the alcove there and pull the reed curtains. 
 He'll never see your black frock in the dark, and if he 
 does, why, it's no business of his." 
 
 " Esther is not to know, I suppose." 
 
 "Better not It would only agitate her. Wait till 
 it is over. Perhaps she is awake now and longing to 
 see you." 
 
 She rang the bell and asked if Miss Brandon was 
 awake, and the reply was in the affirmative, so I went 
 upstairs to Esther's pretty room. 
 
 The dusk was beginning to gather, but I could see 
 that she looked ill, though she had a bright colour. Her 
 eyes were heavy and her aspect listless. 
 
 " I'm afraid I'm in for a feverish cold, Hilda," she said, 
 when we had greeted each other. " My throat is sore 
 and my hands very hot. Feel them." 
 
 I took her hands in mine and felt them dry and 
 burning. 
 
 "What is it, Essie?" I said tenderly; "worry?" 
 
 "Not altogether that. The day before yesterday, 
 when my godmother had driven to Iniscrone on business, 
 and I was supposed to be nursing a little cold I brought 
 from Kilkee, I slipped out and ran all the way to 
 Brandon Abbey, thinking there might be a word or a 
 flower for me in the old place. But there was nothing, 
 and it rained hard coming back, and I got very wet, and 
 said nothing about it." 
 
 ( H 436 ) 8
 
 274 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " Oh, Esther, that was foolish!" 
 
 "I know; but you don't know how I am driven to do 
 something. It seems as if I was lying here and letting 
 all my life slip through my fingers." 
 
 " Can't you trust other people to do for you just for 
 the present?" 
 
 "Ah! my godmother has been talking to you. You 
 know I have told her everything." 
 
 " Yes, I am glad of it. She is a stout friend, although 
 only a frail little old fairy godmother. Trust her, Esther. 
 She will do all that love and courage can." 
 
 "I know. She is wonderful. But what are we 
 against Sir Rupert ? If we had only a man with us ! If 
 Pierce had lived and been strong!" 
 
 " God's in his heaven, Esther." 
 
 " Yes, I try to pray and have faith, but I am afraid of 
 the Cross. What if it were His will to take my Harry?" 
 
 " He would give you courage, and would bear your 
 Cross with you. But His will for you may be just as 
 well your heart's desire." 
 
 " Yes. I went into a church one day at Kilkee. The 
 door was open, and someone was singing at the organ: 
 
 ' O rest in the Lord, wait patiently for Him, 
 And He will give thee thy heart's desire '. 
 
 I thought it was a message for me, and have said it so 
 often to myself. Oh, my heart's desire, my heart's 
 desire!" she cried, and then covered her face with her 
 hands.
 
 ESTHER. 275 
 
 "Why are you so full of fears, Esther?" I asked. 
 
 "My Harry is delicate," she whispered, "and Sir 
 Rupert is wicked and strong." 
 
 " God is stronger than Sir Rupert." 
 
 " Oh, Hilda, can you imagine the unnaturalness of the 
 man that makes him hate his own flesh and blood? No 
 one knows how much my Harry has been made to suffer 
 in that house. He says it is his grandfather's way of 
 trying to drive him out of it. I wonder if he is right in 
 staying?" 
 
 " He has only his own light to go by, as each of us 
 has, Essie. We must leave him to its guidance." 
 
 " He says his presence is in some sort a check on the 
 orgies of those two wretched men. But if he dies under 
 it? Has he no duty to me and to his own life?" 
 
 " You exaggerate, darling, I am sure. One need not 
 die even of such an unholy place as Angry." 
 
 " Not if one were strong. But he has never yet 
 recovered of his hurt, and he is not likely to at Castle 
 Angry." 
 
 She broke off suddenly and began to cry. 
 
 " I am forgetting that for four months I have had no 
 word of him, and that now the letters that ought to have 
 brought him so eagerly to my side remain unanswered. 
 Where is he, Hilda? Where? How do I know but that 
 he is already dead, and so escaped his enemies? If he 
 were living and well he would surely have come." 
 
 "Be quiet, darling. You are letting your fear run 
 wild. People are not made away with like that in the
 
 276 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 nineteenth century. Perhaps the letters have not reached 
 him. Perhaps they have been kept from him, or he is 
 not there. He may have sickened of Angry and gone 
 back to Warwickshire." 
 
 " No, he might have gone, but he would have returned. 
 He would not stay long away from where I am." 
 
 She lifted her head for a moment in proud confidence. 
 Then it drooped again as a flower droops heavy with 
 rain. 
 
 "You would never think, Esther, that he could be 
 silent because he had forgotten you?" 
 
 " Never that. Nothing could separate us but death." 
 
 " Well, Esther," said I, " be quiet and keep your heart 
 calm. We shall know something to-morrow, for Sir 
 Rupert is to come here at five o'clock." 
 
 "Sir Rupert!" 
 
 "Yes. We had not meant to tell you, but now I think 
 it is better. Lady O'Brien wrote that she wanted to see 
 him, and he has written saying he will come." 
 
 She looked at me with distended eyes. 
 
 "Under this roof!" she muttered to herself. 
 
 "At least we shall find out where his grandson is." 
 
 " Yes, we surely shall. He will have to answer a plain 
 question, won't he, Hilda? To think of the godmother 
 drawing him like that." 
 
 " If he had not come she would have invaded him in 
 his den." 
 
 "Dear, brave little soul! I have not deserved such 
 love, Hilda."
 
 ESTHER. 277 
 
 " For an undeserving person, you seem to receive quite 
 a large share," I said drily. 
 
 "Yes, don't I?" she answered in her simple way. 
 Then she went on: 
 
 "I am so glad you told me about Sir Rupert, Hilda. 
 It is the doing something that helps me, and I should 
 hardly have had enterprise for that. The penny post 
 has awful possibilities of cruelty. Think of launching 
 those letters into the dark, and then waiting for an 
 answer the horrible strain of it and feeling in your 
 cold heart all the time that no answer will come." 
 
 "Poor penny post!" I said, laughing; "but think of all 
 the happiness it brings as well!" 
 
 " I can only think of the letters that never come, or 
 the cruel and cold letters. But they are easier to bear 
 than the silence." 
 
 " Well, darling," I said soothingly, " the cruel and cold 
 letters will never come to you, and the silence is only a 
 pause before good news." 
 
 "You think so, Hilda? I was always so afraid of Sir 
 Rupert. I know it is silly, but the shadows out of one's 
 childhood dominate one in a time of trouble." 
 
 "Now, fret no more, Essie," I said; "I shall be with 
 you to-night, and to-morrow will bring news. Think of 
 yourself as a rich girl with a lover, and pity all the poor 
 unloved ones like Hilda." 
 
 "Ah! time was," she smiled, "in my romantic youth, 
 when I thought the lover stage the one most desirable. 
 Now I think it is cruel and full of fear. But I am
 
 278 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 to be strong, Hilda, and hope for to-morrow. You will 
 tell me everything?" 
 
 "Everything; and be sure all will be well." 
 When I went up to bed that night I found Esther 
 sleeping placidly. The finger-tips were turned towards 
 her palms, like a child's in sleep, and the long lashes 
 made a shadow on her richly-coloured cheeks. I prayed 
 hard that night that the morrow might not betray our 
 confidence.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 SIR RUPERT. 
 
 fTlHE next day was cold and blustery, with winds that 
 J- shook down the last remaining glory of the trees, 
 and cold rain that beat the orange and scarlet of the 
 dead leaves into so much black mud. It was a day when 
 everything seems dreary. The big sunflowers in the 
 lawn at Annagower broke with their own weight, and 
 hung ruefully on the shattered stalk. The chrysanthe- 
 mums were bruised and muddy, and the air was full of 
 the repining of the afflicted branches. Even the robin 
 sang as if his heart were not in it. 
 
 I sat with Esther a great part of the morning, and 
 would not let her talk too much on the subject that was 
 in all our minds. I tried to distract her by telling her 
 the things that had happened when I was in London; but 
 though she was interested about Freda, and unselfishly 
 rejoiced over my success with the publishers, yet I could 
 see that her mind wandered, that her fingers beat the 
 counterpane impatiently as though the time would never 
 pass. 
 
 But the hours turned round at last to five o'clock, and
 
 280 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 found me hidden like a conspirator in the little alcove 
 off' the drawing-room. This was unlighted; it was little 
 more than an archway in fact, with a few feet of space 
 behind, but with the dusk in it and the lit drawing-room 
 beyond I had no fear that even Sir Rupert's unflinching 
 old eyes, as I remembered them, would discover me. 
 
 I had placed Lady O'Brien with her back to me and 
 the tea-table before her, and had drawn a chair near the 
 lamplight for Sir Rupert, for I had a great desire to see 
 our old enemy's face during the interview that was to be 
 so momentous to poor Essie. 
 
 I had not long to wait, for he was punctual to his 
 time. He came in, a curious figure for a lady's drawing- 
 room, in a great rough old frieze coat such as the 
 farmers wear at the fairs. As he sat down heavily in 
 the chair I had placed for him I saw that he looked 
 older, but scarcely weaker than I remembered him. If 
 a tithe of the stories told about his way of life were true, 
 then he had a constitution of iron. 
 
 I saw the gleam of his eyes fixed on my lady's face, 
 and felt that I was going to watch a game of fence. In 
 the heat of the room his coat began to steam, and Lady 
 O'Brien implored him to take it off. He did so, flinging 
 it across a velvet chair, and showed himself clad in a 
 riding suit of very ancient cut, in which, however, he 
 looked a figure of a certain distinction. Then he sat 
 down again and leant towards his hostess, bringing his 
 strong, colourless, old face, with its jaws of iron, within 
 the rays of the lamp.
 
 SIR RUPERT. 281 
 
 Lady O'Brien had dressed herself for the interview 
 with a certain coquettishness. Dear old lady, it would 
 indeed be the end of things with her when her pretty 
 vanities were relinquished. She was wearing a gray, 
 stiff silk, trimmed with the most exquisite old yellow 
 lace, and her soft hair was piled high over her delicate 
 face with its sparkling eyes. 
 
 I could not see her face, of course, from where I sat, 
 but I could see the flash and glitter of her rings as her 
 still-beautiful hands moved to and fro among the tea- 
 cups. 
 
 " I may offer you some tea, Sir Rupert?" I heard her say. 
 
 " Well, madam, tea is not much in my line," he 
 answered grimly. " It is a good many years since I have 
 known the taste of it, in fact." 
 
 "Oh, Sir Rupert, you men!" said the little old lady, 
 lifting a reproving finger; " it is well for you I know 
 your ways." 
 
 She took from a lower tray of her tea-table a little 
 bottle gold-coloured, and a liqueur glass. 
 
 " This is the finest old brandy, Sir Rupert," she said. 
 " I won't insult you and it by asking if you will take 
 soda-water with it." 
 
 " Brandy is quite good enough for me," he answered. 
 " You were always a woman of a thousand." 
 
 "Ah! Sir Rupert, you flatter me," said the old lady, 
 sipping her tea. 
 
 " If the truth is flattery," he said, " it is the truth that 
 beauty and wit are seldom found in one garland."
 
 282 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 "You have not forgotten your old ways," she said. 
 " Rustication has made you no whit the better." 
 
 "Ah!" he said, "when beauty and grace shine on un- 
 accustomed eyes, even the rustic tongue is loosed." 
 
 I listened with amazement. I had thought that the Sir 
 Rupert who was a man about town and a pretty fellow 
 ages ago, was quite lost in Sir Rupert the ogre of Angry 
 Castle, the false and vindictive friend, the patient waiter 
 upon vengeance, the sinner stained with so many crimes 
 that it was easy to credit him with all. Yet, grim as he 
 looked, his air now was not saturnine. He seemed to 
 have forgotten for a moment his later years, and turned 
 back to a page of his youth. 
 
 He had settled his huge shoulders comfortably in the 
 low chair, and was swallowing glass after glass of the 
 brandy, which apparently did not affect him in the least. 
 
 " You will be wondering," said my lady, " why I should 
 have asked for this interview." 
 
 She had settled down for serious conversation, having 
 replaced her cup in the tray. I could see the pretty 
 fan with which she had provided herself waving to and 
 fro against the firelight. 
 
 " No reason was needed, my lady, except that you had 
 not forgotten me like the rest of the world." 
 
 " Was that enough to bring you half-a-dozen miles in 
 drenching rain?" 
 
 "Since when have I been afraid of a shower?" 
 
 "Oh, Sir Rupert! you know you are a recluse by your 
 own choice. The world would not have forgotten you
 
 SIR RUPERT. 283 
 
 if you had not willed to be forgotten. This being so, I 
 did not lightly invade your solitude." 
 
 " The wish to meet again and recall old memories had 
 been quite enough." 
 
 "Ah!" said her ladyship, "old memories are bitter- 
 sweet; let them rest. But I thank you for coming all 
 this way. I would have found my way to your solitude, 
 but I was assured you barred your gates against all the 
 world." 
 
 " Country folks' tales," he said. " But it would be to 
 reverse the natural order of things if you had come. 
 Besides, my house is hardly fit to receive a lady." 
 
 " That is why I longed to come." 
 
 " Because you had heard strange stories about me and 
 it, eh?" he said shrewdly. 
 
 " Perhaps. You are somewhat of an ogre, De Lacy." 
 
 " Yes, I let the gobemouches say their say." 
 
 "Do you mean that really Castle Angry is like any 
 other old house?" 
 
 " You do me too much honour to be interested in it. 
 Castle Angry is perhaps as like any other old house as 
 I am like any other old man." 
 
 " Well, you are not at all like any God-fearing kindly 
 old man, carrying peace and honour upon his gray 
 hairs." 
 
 Sir Rupert laughed grimly. 
 
 "You are right. I'm not the grandfatherly sort. If 
 you've heard half the gossip of the country you're a 
 brave woman to have me in your drawing-room. There
 
 284 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 are a good many milestones between this and our last 
 merry meeting." 
 
 " I'm not a bit afraid of you, De Lacy," said my lady, 
 still waving her large fan. "Though I know you're a 
 bad lot, still I remember that some good people loved 
 and trusted you once upon a time, so I hope the Lord 
 may yet change your heart." 
 
 "Ah, thank you!" said Sir Rupert shortly. I guessed 
 that my lady's reference was to my grandfather, and 
 that it had angered Sir Rupert. 
 
 " Well, your reason, madam, for desiring an interview," 
 he said with a slight barring of his strong yellow teeth, 
 " since it is not for the pleasure of my company." 
 
 " You have a grandson, Sir Rupert." 
 
 " I have, madam." 
 
 "A charming youth," said my lady pensively. "I con- 
 gratulate you upon him !" 
 
 "Did you send for me to say so, Lady O'Brien?" 
 
 " Of course not, De Lacy. But I have missed him of 
 late." 
 
 " He is a fortunate fellow." 
 
 " I am fond of young society. He came often, and I 
 was grateful to him. Now he comes no more, and though 
 I have written to him I have had no answer." 
 
 " Young men, I have heard, are cavalier nowadays." 
 
 " They may be, but I don't think the lad is. Do you 
 know anything of him, De Lacy?" 
 
 "Do you think I carry him in my pocket, madam?" 
 
 "Is he at Angry?"
 
 SIR RUPERT. 285 
 
 "If he were, would he not have flown at your call?" 
 
 " I feared he might be ill. He is not yet recovered of 
 his hurts when he fell in the spring. I feared he might 
 be at Angry needing a woman's care." 
 
 " Your heart is too tender. If he had needed nursing 
 he could have found it where it was supplied to him so 
 generously before. He would naturally turn to my 
 neighbours at Brandon." 
 
 " They were very good to him, De Lacy. It was true 
 Christianity of them to take him in. It ought to wipe 
 off old scores in your mind." 
 
 His face went livid. 
 
 " A new way to pay old debts," he sneered ; " but your 
 sex is ever romantic, my lady." 
 
 " I am glad the boy is so little like you." 
 
 "Little enough as far as that goes, as little as his 
 father was before him. But to what am I indebted for 
 this interest in my flesh and blood?" 
 
 " To himself, De Lacy, be sure, and not to you. Partly, 
 too, because he is dear to someone who is dear to me." 
 
 "Ah! an affair of the heart. I did not credit him with 
 being a gallant. But I daresay he had a score of pretty 
 affairs I knew nothing of. The county is famed for its 
 rustic beauties, and young men will be young men." 
 
 The fan trembled violently in my lady's hand. 
 
 "You insult your grandson, sir, and you insult my 
 adopted daughter, to whom he is betrothed." 
 
 "Your ladyship's adopted daughter?" 
 
 " Miss Esther Brandon."
 
 286 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 I leant forward with my heart in my mouth. Sir 
 Rupert had half sprung from his chair, and for a second 
 his attitude was so menacing that I was in the act to 
 rush to the bell-rope. Then he resumed his seat and 
 looked at my lady with narrowed eyes. Something in 
 the look told me that he was answering a defiance in 
 hers. Still her feather fan waved airily up and down. 
 
 " The" plot thickens," he said at last, and his voice had 
 grown hoarse. "Am I to understand that you contem- 
 plate a marriage between this modern Romeo and Juliet ? 
 I suppose so, since the affair has flourished under your 
 roof." 
 
 " You certainly may understand it, De Lacy. I don't 
 see why your wicked old feuds and hatreds should over- 
 shadow two young lives. Let alone that the feud was 
 entirely of your making." 
 
 "Do you expect me to abet you?" 
 
 "Oh, indeed, I expect little of you, De Lacy, unless 
 the grace of God should soften your heart!" 
 
 " Will it alter matters that the youth inherits nothing 
 but the barren acres of Angry ? You and Miss Brandon 
 are probably thinking of him as the inheritor of my 
 wealth. But my money is my own, and I'd rather leave 
 it to Gaskin to found a family, or endow a home for 
 mangy cats with it." 
 
 The fan moved more airily than ever. 
 
 " As you will, Sir Rupert. I am a poor woman, but 
 what little I have goes to my dear child." 
 
 " She may not be satisfied with that," he said, sneering
 
 STR RUPERT. 287 
 
 viciously. "You probably underestimate her common- 
 sense. And he he may know on which side his bread 
 is buttered." 
 
 "You wrong them both, De Lacy. Love is enough 
 for them." 
 
 "A very pretty sentiment in the mouth of an old 
 woman." 
 
 The fan fluttered as if the hand that held it were 
 agitated, and I guessed that the rude shaft had gone 
 home. 
 
 "It was hardly worth my while to ask you if you 
 were friend or foe," she said after a moment's silence. 
 "I might have known. Do your worst, De Lacy, you 
 cannot hurt them." 
 
 " Oh, hurting of the kind you mean is out of fashion ! 
 They have my worst wishes. Otherwise, all I desire is 
 to hear no more of the cub who calls himself by my name, 
 and the pauper he has chosen." 
 
 "For shame, Sir Rupert! You are unnatural, or you 
 would love the boy and think of nothing but his happi- 
 ness." 
 
 The old man rose from his seat and made an exagger- 
 ated bow. 
 
 " You are welcome to him," he said, " the poor, pretty, 
 puling fool! I hope the girl has enough manhood for 
 two." 
 
 " If he were not a man, De Lacy, he would never have 
 spent an hour in Angry Castle. What are you, to judge 
 of gentleness and chivalry?"
 
 288 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 She had stood up now, and, leaning on her stick, shook 
 an angry head at him. 
 
 "What have you done with him, De Lacy?" she cried. 
 " I believe you know where he is, and will not say." 
 
 ",What, then, is Master Milksop to be spirited away 
 like a yearling child?" 
 
 "He is not with you, then?" she said, too eager to be 
 baffled by his insults. 
 
 " He is not. He left three months ago." 
 "Three months ago! Why hasn't he written then?" 
 " How can I say ? He has tired of his fancy, I expect." 
 " That is not true, De Lacy, and you know it is not." 
 " If he has not, let him come back to her." 
 Lady O'Brien rang the bell, and in answer the page- 
 boy appeared. 
 
 "Show this gentleman out," she said, and stood erect 
 till the door had closed behind the enemy. 
 
 The instant he was gone I ran to the window to see 
 him mount his dog-cart and disappear in the wet night. 
 Then 1 came back to Lady O'Brien's side. She had sunk 
 into her chair, and the sparkle and fire were gone out of 
 her face. 
 
 " Ah," she said, drawing a long breath, " if I only had 
 the flogging of that man! And to think how helpless we 
 are, an old woman and two girls, my dear. And time 
 was when twenty fine fellows would have been ready to 
 flog him for me!" 
 
 "I suppose he really knows nothing of his grandson?" 
 " I suppose not. After all, as he says, the boy is not an
 
 "LADY O'BRIEN STOOD UP NOW AND SHOOK AN ANGRY HEAD 
 AT HIM."
 
 SIR RUPERT. 289 
 
 infant. He must have grown sick of the place and gone 
 away. I know his life there was insupportable, though 
 Sir Rupert never actually showed him the door." 
 
 "What are we to say to Esther?" 
 
 " That is what is troubling me." 
 
 " We hardly know Harry De Lacy. Is it possible he 
 could care less than she does, and knowing his own 
 poverty, and that Sir Rupert would never consent, has 
 given her up and gone away?" 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " Esther would say it was not possible. I only know 
 him] through her love. For myself, I saw a handsome 
 and gentle boy, a gentleman, and with the tastes and 
 habits of one. I could say as much for fifty lads of my 
 acquaintance." 
 
 "You don't think the gentleness could imply weakness?" 
 
 "Ah! that I cannot answer for. Esther will never 
 believe that he could go away and forget her. Ah, my 
 poor child! I dread to tell her that we have heard 
 nothing. If no word of him comes I don't know what 
 she will do." 
 
 " There is nothing left for us to do but wait," I said 
 sadly. 
 
 " I suppose not," she said, " especially as there was no 
 formal engagement between them. Poor child! if she 
 had trusted me earlier, all this might have been averted. 
 We cannot go out into the world, you and I, Hilda, and 
 track him down." 
 
 " No," I assented, " but we will hope. You have done 
 
 ( M 436 ) T
 
 292 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 When she got about again at last, in the frosty days 
 before Christmas, it was not to either of us that she first 
 turned for companionship and comfort. Quite unknown 
 to us, she had been friends for some time with Margaret 
 Flaherty, the comfortable wife of a small farmer, who 
 had fostered Harry De Lacy in his delicate babyhood. 
 Now everyone knows that the ties of fosterage are hardly 
 less dear and close than those of maternity itself, and 
 when Harry De Lacy came back to his wretched home 
 at Angry, there had been no heart in all the place to wel- 
 come him except the faithful heart of his foster-mother. 
 
 We were glad when we discovered that Esther had 
 this comfort. Her unhappiness had weighed heavily on 
 her godmother. During that winter our dear old lady's 
 age seemed suddenly to have found her out Her bright, 
 brisk, merry ways deserted her, and she began to be 
 racked with rheumatism, the result, I suppose, of our 
 damp climate. Yet she would not go away so long as 
 Esther desired to stay; and when we spoke of it, Esther 
 always cried out for a reprieve, as though news were on 
 its way, which would surely arrive the minute she was 
 absent. 
 
 All the time she was so tender, so loving, so full of com- 
 punction over her dear godmother, that we could not be 
 angry with her, or think her selfish. I felt that she 
 was held to the place by bonds which she was powerless 
 to break. Yet she had promised to go in March, they 
 had a project of spending Easter in Rome, and with 
 that we had to be content. 
 
 The trouble weighed so much on my spirits that I had 
 scarcely the heart to be glad when Love in the Valley
 
 "WILL YE NO COME BACK AGAIN?" 293 
 
 in its coat of delicate blue and silver, reached me a little 
 before Christmas. Nor even when the first reviews were 
 distinctly favourable. I began to grow pessimistic, I 
 who had always been cheerful. Was there nothing but 
 trouble in the sweet world? I asked myself as I looked 
 about me. There was Esther breaking her heart, and we 
 who loved her breaking ours with her in sympathy ; there 
 was Aline, looking for ever like a dove whose mate has 
 flown; there was the dear old General, bearing like a 
 saint and a soldier his own terrible trouble. Only the 
 young ones were glad, and they were like lambs playing 
 in the fields, whom every hour brought nearer to the 
 butcher's knife. 
 
 " It is time," I said to myself one day, " for something 
 happy to happen; for very long there have been nothing 
 but unhappy things." 
 
 I spent my time now pretty well between Annagower 
 and Rose Hill. The General at last had his house in 
 order, and was sitting down, as he said, to enjoy life 
 under his own fig-tree. But sometimes I thought it was 
 a melancholy kind of enjoyment. He had been used to 
 so active a life, and he was not of those who grow old 
 easily. It would have suited him better to have dropped 
 between the shafts. 
 
 I used to find it lonely and melancholy when I went 
 in during the short winter afternoons, and found him 
 sitting there with an odd, unhappy air of doing nothing. 
 He used to brighten wonderfully when he saw me, but I 
 knew that the sadness would come again when I went 
 away. Presently, I felt, things would be better with him, 
 for he had not yet shaken down into the new life.
 
 294 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " You must become a country gentleman," I said, " and 
 a magistrate, and sit on boards, and farm a little. And 
 in the intervals of your busy life you must write a book 
 about your Indian experiences." 
 
 Then he would smile, and say I was right, and that 
 presently he would find his work to his hand and do it. 
 
 But, brave and resigned as he was, I could see that the 
 uncertainty about his son's fate was weakening the spring 
 of life and energy in him. 
 
 We had finished cataloguing the library and getting it 
 into order, and very proud I was of my work. The house 
 was in the most spick-and-span condition, and there was 
 nothing left for us to do. And now I began the feast 
 of reading which I had promised myself. 
 
 Well, a day came when I bullied the General at last 
 into getting into his cords and boots, and riding to a 
 meet, which was at no great distance. 
 
 " Every country gentleman hunts," I said ; " and you 
 are shirking the duties of your state in life by not 
 hunting." 
 
 " I was never a shirker, little girl," he replied, laughing; 
 " and I suppose I must obey orders." 
 
 " I will wait and dine with you," said I, " if you're very 
 good, and afterwards you can drive me home." 
 
 By this time General MacNeill was nearly as much 
 our friend as Esther's godmother, and, like her, had 
 brought untold pleasure into our humdrum lives. 
 
 He rode off, looking quite cheerful, and I felt that 
 already he was better in the prospect of meeting his 
 fellows, and having a good day after the fox. I was in 
 a pleasanter mood with myself and the whole world,
 
 "WILL YE NO COME BACK AGAIN?" 295 
 
 when I settled down to my long quiet day, alone in the 
 library, or alone except for Paudeen, who is the most 
 unobtrusive company, and is never so rowdy but what 
 he can vent his high spirits on tearing the paper in the 
 waste-paper basket into infinitesimal strips. 
 
 It was twelve o'clock I found, after the General had 
 departed, for he had only a short distance to ride to the 
 meet. 
 
 The hours passed with luxurious slowness. At half -past 
 one a maid brought my lunch and set it on a table drawn 
 close to the fire. After lunch I read again till it was 
 nearly tea-time; I expected the General to be in for his 
 tea, a repast which he fondly loved. 
 
 About four, Mary O'Connor herself brought in the 
 tea-tray, and lit the spirit-lamp under the urn. Having 
 done this, she made up a bright little fire, and fetched 
 the lamp with its large green shade. I had put down 
 my book, and sat lazily watching her from my favourite 
 seat, the top rung of the library steps, on which I perched, 
 dangling my feet. 
 
 " You've no idea, Mary," I said, " of how jolly the room 
 looks from here." 
 
 "Glory be to goodness, child!" said Mary, for the thou- 
 sandth time, " I wish you'd come off that ould flight o' 
 steps, and sit in a chair like a Christian. 'Tis breakin' 
 your neck you'll be one o' these days." 
 
 After she had gone out of the room I sat there listen- 
 ing to the song of the tea-urn, and feeling drowsily 
 comfortable. Any moment I knew might bring the 
 General, and it didn't seem worth while to get absorbed 
 in a book again.
 
 296 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 As I sat there, suddenly the door leading to the gar- 
 den, which I had left unlocked, began to open. I watched 
 it with some alarm. Tramps were few in our neighbour- 
 hood, yet occasionally the mines brought rough customers 
 looking for work, who would not be at all agreeable 
 people to meet. Fortunately I am not the nervous kind, 
 or I should have fallen off my high seat. As it was, I 
 sat still to await developments, while Paudeen made for 
 the door, with hair bristling and little white teeth 
 showing. 
 
 When the door was fully opened a man came a step 
 over the threshold, and stood looking about the room. 
 As there was no light beyond the radius of the fire and 
 lamp I could not see him very well. He was dressed in 
 a long rough coat, and was wearing a soft hat which hid 
 his face. 
 
 Since he did not seem inclined to come any further, 
 and had plainly no idea of my presence, I sat still, hoping 
 he would go. But suddenly there was a growl and a dart 
 from Paudeen, and the stranger uttered an exclamation, 
 then stooping, he lifted my little dog by the scruff of its 
 neck. 
 
 "Oh, please don't hurt him!" I broke out piteously. 
 " I'm so sorry if he's bitten you, but he's my little dog, 
 and he thought it his duty." 
 
 "Hello!" said the stranger, advancing a step or two, 
 and still holding Paudeen. " Are you one of the family 
 portraits, or do you live in mid-air?" 
 
 As he stood blinking towards me in the darkness, 
 plainly not seeing me, I burst out laughing. It was 
 partly relief, because the minute he spoke I knew he
 
 "WILL YE NO COME BACK AGAIN?" 297 
 
 was a gentleman and no tramp, and partly because it 
 was so funny that I should have addressed him out of 
 the ceiling, so to speak. 
 
 He put down Paudeen very gently, saying: 
 
 " Now, little chap, don't nip me again. Honour bright!" 
 I saw that Paudeen began to wag his tail as if his doubts 
 had been set at rest. 
 
 Then the stranger deliberately took off the lamp-shade, 
 and, lifting the lamp, advanced towards me, holding it so 
 that he could see me. 
 
 I felt rather absurd all at once, and cried out: 
 
 " I'm only sitting on the library steps reading. Please 
 put down the lamp, and I'll come down." 
 
 But he lifted the lamp instead, and stared at me atten- 
 tively. As he took in my abashed features he uttered 
 a long whistle. 
 
 Then he put down the lamp and said deliberately: 
 
 " The last time I saw you I picked you out of a ditch. 
 And now I find you sitting on the top of a ladder." 
 
 I uttered a shriek of delight, and utterly forgetting 
 myself and my shyness I scrambled down the steps any- 
 how, upsetting several books as I did so, and caught the 
 stranger by the two hands. 
 
 " Oh, you are Lance !" I cried, "Lance come back, thank 
 God! The General will die of joy." 
 
 " We mustn't let him do that, little girl. That's why 
 I came prospecting by the back-door. I did not know 
 how to approach him. Is he well?" 
 
 "He will be quite well now that he has you. I am 
 expecting him every minute. He must not see you till I 
 have told him you are here."
 
 298 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 "But who are you, you mysterious child? I only 
 know you as the little girl of Annagassan Races. How 
 do you come to be here, and looking after my father?" 
 
 So recalled to myself, I blushed, and let his hands, 
 which unconsciously I had been holding, drop. 
 
 " I am Hilda Brandon," I said, " and your father is our 
 dear friend." 
 
 "Whew!" said he with an air of comic perplexity. 
 " Then I suppose you are grown-up and a young lady, 
 and I have been taking you for a child and a peasant. 
 Why didn't you undeceive me that day long ago?" 
 
 " You never asked me." 
 
 " But you knew I didn't like your vanishing into thin 
 air. Still, I admit that I was an unready fellow." 
 
 "And where have you been all those years?" 
 
 " Since you saw me?" 
 
 " Since you left your father." 
 
 " The greater part of the time in a tower in the hill- 
 country above the Khyber Pass, a prisoner, and expecting 
 my quietus every day." 
 
 " And you escaped?" 
 
 "Fortunately for me, my tribe kicked up a rumpus, 
 and a British regiment came along and blew my tower 
 to pieces, and very nearly blew me sky-high with it. 
 Only, I managed to let them know in time. However, 
 all that is a story for a winter's night." 
 
 "Ah!" said I, "the General heard something of this 
 months ago, but did not dare to hope that the prisoner 
 was you. Then the war broke out, and we heard no 
 more." 
 
 " The fellows who had kicked open my rat-trap stayed
 
 "WILL YE NO COME BACK AGAIN?" 299 
 
 to fight, so the matter never got reported at head-quarters. 
 I was sorely tempted to stay with them, but the thought 
 of the dad restrained ma I made my way through the 
 hills and back into the regions of her Imperial Majesty's 
 government. At some stages of that journey I was in 
 as bad case, nearly, as I was in my tower. But why do 
 I tell you all this? I am here anyhow, and now, how 
 will the dad take it?" 
 
 " Oh, joy never kills!" said L 
 
 He looked at me with an oddly shy look. 
 
 " Perhaps you do not know, " he began. 
 
 "That you parted in anger? Oh, yes, I do! Well, I 
 should think neither of you will ever be angry again 
 while you live." 
 
 "Oh, that's a large order!" he said laughing. "Still, I 
 had time for repentance." 
 
 " So had the General," said I. " He is never angry now." 
 
 "Dear old dad!" he said; "if he isn't, I shall think the 
 fairies have been changing him. He may be as angry as 
 he likes with me for all the rest of his days, but I'll never 
 take him at his word again never." 
 
 " I am glad you are ashamed of yourself," said I. 
 
 "That's rubbing it in, and ungenerous, Miss Hilda, 
 especially to & man newly come from the dead, as it 
 were." 
 
 "Hush!" I cried, "for I had heard a horse's hoofs on 
 the gravel. "Your father is coming. He must not see 
 you suddenly. Here, come behind the screen till I have 
 prepared him." 
 
 " Don't take long, Miss Hilda, or I shall burst out upon 
 him as soon as I hear his dear voice."
 
 300 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 "Have patience," said I; "I shall not take long." 
 
 I had just time to draw the screen across his corner 
 when the General came in, stamping with his feet as he 
 pulled off his riding-gloves. 
 
 "Ah, this is pleasant!" he said. "There's a touch of 
 frost to-night. I hope the wind will change, or it will 
 spoil the hunting." 
 
 " I'm glad you're keen about it," said I. " Had a good 
 day?" 
 
 "Capital. I'll tell you about it when I've changed. 
 I'm too muddy for a lady's tea-table." 
 
 " You're not going to change," said I, " not till you've 
 had a cup of tea. You're quite good enough for me," and 
 I pushed him into a chair. 
 
 " Very well, very well," he said, " it's not as it ought to 
 be; but when a lady takes command." 
 
 I began to make the tea with a hand that trembled. 
 I was wondering what I should say next, and an occa- 
 sional impatient rustle in the corner flurried me still 
 more. 
 
 "Ah!" said the General, "what is that? Oh, is it you, 
 you rascal?" for Paudeen had made a timely appearance 
 from behind the screen. 
 
 The general reached over and took the cup of tea 
 from my hand. 
 
 " Do you know, little girl," he said, " your prescription 
 has done me good? I felt uncommonly cheerful to-day. 
 I suppose there's some hint of the spring in the air that 
 touches up even old blood like mine." 
 
 " General," said I, " do you think that you felt cheerful 
 perhaps because because good news was coming?"
 
 "WILL YE NO COME BACK AGAIN?" 301 
 
 He put down his cup and stared at me. 
 
 "Do you mean anything, Hilda?" he said. "You know 
 what good news means for me. Have you heard any- 
 thing?" 
 
 " Yes, I have heard something." 
 
 " Tell me, then," he said, rising and advancing a step. 
 '* I'm not a child or a woman. You have news of Lance?" 
 
 " Why, yes," I cried, between laughing and weeping. 
 " Thank God ! news has come news of the best. It has 
 brought Lance." 
 
 Then a tall figure from behind the screen hurled itself 
 at the General like a stone from a catapult. I gave just 
 a glance at the two men shaking hands with the most 
 tremendous energy, and heard the General's broken 
 "Thank God!" Then I went out and left them together. 
 
 Now, as I am nothing if not severely practical, I went 
 straight to Mary O'Connor, and told her of the wonderful 
 occurrences of the last half-hour. That good woman quite 
 fulfilled my expectations of her. With a flurry, which 
 was no flurry, she issued her commands. 
 
 " Kun up, you, Jane, to the best bed-room and light a 
 fire, and put out the best linen sheets to c,ir." 
 
 And then in an aside to me: 
 
 " I don't suppose the cratur's slept in a dacent bed this 
 many a year." 
 
 I didn't mind saying anything about the long home- 
 ward journey, which must have inured the wanderer once 
 more to sleeping in sheets, for Mary went on: 
 
 " The table for three to-night, Anne; an' the best table- 
 linen ; the satin damask with the little cockle-shells upon 
 it; an' all the silver you can get into use. An' you, Miss
 
 302 THE HANDSOME BKANDONS. 
 
 Hilda, run out like a good child an' coax Crosspatch to 
 cut some o' them ould flowers of his. 'Tis a great day 
 for Rose Hill entirely." 
 
 I knew the culinary matters might safely be left in 
 Mary's hands, so I went oft' obediently to the gardener, 
 whose proper name, Crosbie, had easily become Crosspatch 
 in Mary's mouth. 
 
 He was as disagreeable as most gardeners about cutting 
 his flowers, though I could usually get what I wanted 
 from him. However, he rose to the occasion on this day 
 of days, and when he heard of the General's great joy, 
 was as anxious as anyone to do his share in celebrating it. 
 
 " An' to think, glory be to God (there's me best Camille 
 de Rohan for you), that the Lord's looked down on the 
 master at last (come down here, you conthrary divil; 
 some o' them roses is as unwillin' to be picked as some 
 people is to die), an' sent him home the young master to 
 be the prop an' stay av his ould age (there goes the finest 
 Malmaison in the County Kerry!). Sure, 'tis wonderful! 
 wonderful! Well, the Lord is good to his own. (You've 
 destroyed me prospects at the show entirely.) Click, 
 click; I'd as soon you'd be cuttin' off meself as them 
 tubey roses. Here, take them! Don't have me lookin' at 
 them. 'Tis a holy show you've made o' the greenhouse!" 
 
 " Never mind, Crosbie," said I, " you don't grudge them 
 to-day," as I took the heaped-up basket. 
 
 " I try not to, I try not to," he said gloomily. " But 
 there's that man at the Towers. He'll be havin' a fine 
 crow over me at Aisther. Yerra! why didn't the masther's 
 son put off comin' till the show was over for another 
 year?"
 
 WAS AS DISAGREEABLE AS MOST GARDENERS ABOUT 
 CUTTING HIS FLOWERS."
 
 "WILL YE NO GOME BACK AGAIN?" 303 
 
 I left the old man amid his half-comical regrets, and 
 went to the dining-room, which I found resplendent with 
 silver and fine linen. I had made up my mind to slip 
 off as soon as I had arranged the flowers, so as to let the 
 General and his restored son have their first meal together 
 alone. 
 
 But just as I was setting the last satiny rose amid its 
 bronze leaves in the last specimen-glass, the General came 
 in search of me. 
 
 "Ah, decorating, Hilda!" he said. "My boy is gone 
 upstairs to have a wash. How glad I am that you were 
 here to welcome him, and to give me the good news!" 
 
 " And very stupidly I did it. I was expecting him to 
 burst cover every minute of my bungling." 
 
 "Oh, no, my dear! it was most kind and considerate. 
 My boy tells me he remembers you quite well, and recog- 
 nized you at once." 
 
 "I haven't changed much," I said carelessly. "But 
 now, General, that I have finished, I am going to make 
 myself scarce. Hawkins will drive me to Brandon." 
 
 "You'll do nothing of the sort," said the General, a 
 choleric spark coming into his eye. "You're not going 
 to drop me now Lance has come, I can tell you." 
 
 " I don't mean to drop you the least bit in the world. 
 But you will have so much to say to each other this 
 very first evening." 
 
 " Nothing that we don't want you to share. Why, 
 little girl " and a wonderful smile broke over his face 
 " we have years before us in which to talk, please God, 
 for Lance has promised never to leave me again." 
 
 So I consented to stay, feeling rather dissatisfied with
 
 304 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 my plain frock of navy-blue serge on this day of rejoicing. 
 Still, with a cluster of Crosspatch's Camille de Rohans 
 fastened at the belt, I brightened it up a little for dinner, 
 and hoped I did not look very dingy when I arrived in 
 the dining-room.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE UGLY DUCKLING. 
 
 CAPTAIN MACNEILL I felt as if I must always 
 \J call him Lance in my own mind came forward 
 when I entered the library after the dinner-bell had rung. 
 
 "You'll have to dine with a wild man of the woods, 
 Miss Brandon," he said apologetically. " I have only the 
 clothes I stand up in." 
 
 " Never mind, Lance," said his father, " we're glad to 
 have you in any. We'll go over to London next week, 
 arid I'll give you a blank cheque for Poole. You've no 
 idea what a dandy he has always been, Hilda!" 
 
 " Oh, I remember him!" said I. " Like Solomon in his 
 glory that is to say, dressed like any other well-dressed 
 young man." 
 
 " And I remember you " 
 
 Lance broke off with a quizzical glance. 
 
 " Come, my lad, postpone reminiscences till we're over 
 the soup," said the General as he offered me his arm. 
 
 We dined at a little round table, which brought us all 
 in close neighbourhood. As Captain MacNeill ate his 
 soup I had time to look at him. He was a good deal 
 changed from the young man I remembered. No doubt 
 
 (M436) U
 
 306 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 rest and good living would bring back much of the youth 
 and brightness, but there were lines in the keen brown 
 face that would never be obliterated. He was thin, and 
 a little haggard: that, of course, was to be expected; but 
 the years of suffering had not changed his eyes, nor his 
 smile, with its quick flash of white teeth; by these I felt 
 I should have known him under any circumstances. 
 
 "How good everything here is!" he said, looking up 
 suddenly. " I never knew how beautiful a thing a din- 
 ner-table was before. Such flowers in the winter! And 
 how golden the candle-light is! To say nothing at all of 
 this delicious soup!" 
 
 "Ah! Mrs. O'Connor has done her best with the cook- 
 ery. I am glad you still care for your food, my boy. 
 Appetite, rightly considered, is a gift of God." 
 
 The young man's eyes twinkled. 
 
 "I've the appetite of a school-boy still, and you re- 
 member, Dad, that mine was a record, even for Harrow. 
 I've been saving it up all the years of my imprison- 
 ment." 
 
 " Hilda decorated the table in your honour. How she 
 got the flowers out of old Crosbie I don't know!" 
 
 " He's a heart-broken man to-night, General," said I. 
 " Still, to give him his due, he chopped away generously 
 under the excitement of the good news, though to an 
 accompaniment of grumbles." 
 
 " Crosbie's a good fellow," said the General. " I think 
 I must take on that lad of his, though there's little enough 
 for him to do." 
 
 " There's an epidemic of joy in the household, General. 
 If you begin rewarding, I don't know where you'll stop."
 
 THE UGLY DUCKLING. 307 
 
 " Hilda thought to reward us, Lance, by running away 
 without her dinner." 
 
 "That would have been unkind," said the Captain 
 seriously. 
 
 " You don't know what she's been to me, Lance," said 
 the General, looking at me affectionately. " I was such a 
 lonely old man till that day I came into my desolate 
 house, and found her perched on my library steps, a little 
 bit of white and gold, like a daisy." 
 
 " I found her in precisely the same position," said the 
 Captain, laughing. " Do you live at such an eminence, 
 Miss Hilda?" 
 
 " Pretty well," the General answered for me. " She's 
 an uncanny child, and will read in the most uncomfortable 
 positions." 
 
 " Till Mary O'Connor goes in incessant dread of my 
 falling down like a precious china figure, and getting 
 broken," said I, feeling rather embarrassed at being the 
 subject of conversation. 
 
 " Hilda has a prescriptive right to the library, Lance," 
 said the General. 
 
 "I sha'n't dispute it," said Captain MacNeill. "Is 
 everybody else shut out altogether?" 
 
 " When she wills it. She is a successful writer, you 
 know, and when she comes to a crux in the story she, 
 having nerves, can't bear the presence of anyone but 
 Paudeen, who is sympathetic, she says. 
 
 " Are you really an author, Miss Hilda?" said Captain 
 MacNeill, with real or simulated astonishment. 
 
 " She is, my boy, and a successful one at that," answered 
 the General.
 
 308 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " I shall be horribly afraid of you, Miss Hilda. But 
 what precocity! At what age do people begin to write 
 novels nowadays?" 
 
 Captain MacNeill seemed determined not to take me 
 seriously. I didn't altogether like his lack of seriousness 
 about my authorship. 
 
 "I was twenty-one last May," said I. "It is not so 
 very young." 
 
 "Not really twenty-one, Miss Hilda?" said the Captain. 
 " Then why do you go on looking fifteen?" 
 
 "Because I'm small, I suppose," I said. "But you 
 must have known I was grown-up, for I was a big girl 
 when you saw me first five years ago." 
 
 " So you were," he said. " I remember now that when 
 I lifted you in the donkey-cart I thought you were like 
 a very considerable piece of thistle-down that a fairly 
 robust south wind might blow away." 
 
 " Please don't talk about that silly time," said I. " But 
 the General is telling stories about my nerves. If I have 
 any I vent them on Paudeen and the four walls of my 
 little room at home. I have never written a line yet in 
 Rose Hill library." 
 
 " Time you should begin, Hilda," said the General. " If 
 you'll set up your study here I'll promise you this fellow 
 and I won't disturb you. Life seems to be so full of 
 things to be done, now he has come home, that I don't 
 know which thing to begin at to-morrow morning." 
 
 "Oh, General!" said I, "I must be at home sometimes. 
 Why, I have been spending nearly half my life at Rose 
 Hill this winter." 
 
 " And why not?" said the General. " A couple of lonely
 
 THE UGLY DUCKLING. 309 
 
 buffers like us want you more than Brandon can. Do 
 you know that she catalogued and arranged all our 
 library, Lance?" 
 
 "Well," said I, half-laughing and half -confused, "I 
 should think you two could find something to talk about 
 this night of nights other than me." 
 
 "Why, my dear," said the General mildly, "I like to 
 tell Lance all you have been to me a bird of good omen 
 in my lonely life. I had had no joy for so long before 
 you came since this fellow left me, in short, and then 
 you came into my life, like a like a dear little daughter. 
 She has been like that to me, Lance." 
 
 "I am very glad, sir," said Captain MacNeill gently; 
 but something in his eyes as he looked at me made me 
 turn, all of a sudden, redder than the roses in my belt. 
 
 Fortunately the dear old General never looked at me, 
 but I was acutely conscious of the gaze, half-kind, half- 
 quizzical, of the eyes across the table. I did not know 
 why I had blushed, and felt furious with myself. 
 
 " Did you know that Hilda recognized your portrait at 
 once, Lance?" 
 
 " Dear General," said I, " if you mention my name, or 
 refer to me even indirectly again during dinner, you shall 
 be fined. Do make him talk about his adventures 
 instead." 
 
 " Ah ! you don't know Lance. He was a laconic fellow 
 from childhood about anything that concerned himself. 
 We'll only get his adventures from him by bits and 
 scraps." 
 
 But Captain MacNeill seemed to understand that I was 
 really a little uncomfortable at being talked about so
 
 310 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 much, and turned the conversation in the deftest and 
 kindest way. 
 
 I gave them their coffee in the library before I went 
 home, and after I had gone in and said good-night to 
 them, and they had escorted me to the dog-cart, which 
 Hawkins was to drive, I carried away the happiest 
 impression of the peace and joy I had left behind. The 
 night was cold enough to make me nestle down inside 
 the fleecy rug which Captain MacNeill had wrapped 
 about me, but the picture I carried in my mind was of 
 the father and son sitting, one on each side of a glowing 
 fire, with their cigars between their lips and their eyes 
 fondly regarding each other. 
 
 After that evening I did not go to Rose Hill for a day 
 or so, but on the second day came the General himself 
 driving over to fetch me back. In a week or so Captain 
 MacNeill, whose wardrobe had become renovated after 
 a hurried run to Dublin, came and called with his father, 
 and won everybody's heart, from Aline's to the youngest 
 of the twins. 
 
 The boys were now in the shy and gawky stage, and 
 required a good deal of coaxing out of their shells, and 
 for a time they were very awkward with this bronzed 
 man of the world, who had had so many adventures, and 
 was so modest and reticent about them. However, before 
 the close of the visit, I saw that the ice was thawing, and 
 guessed that in a very short time they would be calling 
 him MacNeill, and smoking his cigars with all the ease in 
 the world; and I was not mistaken. In fact, that state 
 of things came about sooner than I could have believed 
 possible, and presently a certain difference of opinion arose
 
 THE UGLY DUCKLING. 311 
 
 between the boys and the twins, for the boys were quite 
 certain that it was only MacNeill's decency that made him 
 put up with a pair of stupid little duffers like the twins 
 when there were men to be had; and the twins, on the 
 other hand, believed, and said openly, that they were the 
 real attraction that so often brought Captain MacNeill 
 to Brandon. 
 
 Aline, the dear mother of us all, was not without 
 qualms about my visiting at Rose Hill as freely as of old, 
 now that the house contained an additional inhabitant in 
 the shape of an attractive young man; but what could 
 she and I and the conventionalities do against the absolute 
 unconsciousness of the dear old General? If I stayed 
 away he would come or send for me, and it was as impos- 
 sible for me to repulse his affection as it was for Aline to 
 reveal her scruples to him. At last she consulted Lady 
 O'Brien about it, and that dear woman responded with 
 her usual common-sense: 
 
 " Let the child go as before, Aline," she said. " It isn't 
 the world, and there's no one to make invidious remarks ; 
 and if there were I'd let them talk till doomsday before 
 I'd come between Hilda and her friends." 
 
 So I came and went as of old, and soon lost much of 
 my shyness of Captain MacNeill, whom indeed I only met 
 at meals, or for an odd half-hour occasionally. He and 
 his father seemed to find so much to take them out of the 
 house now. The General had become so keen and alert 
 about things that thirty years might have been suddenly 
 lifted off his life, and as I became aware of how they 
 were being sought by the neighbours we called every- 
 one within thirty miles neighbours and being asked
 
 312 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 here and there, and besought to take up this and that 
 position, I was conscious of an odd kind of jealousy. 
 General MacNeill and Rose Hill had seemed so much to 
 belong to me, that if it was going to be swamped now by 
 the county families, and I driven out, as I surely should 
 be if they came in, well then, I shouldn't be too well 
 pleased, that was all. 
 
 Certainly they had not come yet, and the greater stir 
 in the house caused by its new inhabitant was so far 
 distinctly pleasant. Mary O'Connor felt it as I did. 
 
 " 'Tis more heartsome like," she said to me one day, " to 
 have the young master to do for. The General is a 
 desperate tidy gentleman, an' if it was only the cigar-ash 
 on the floor, or the clothes flung anyway about the room, 
 or even the bath-water splashed to that unchristian 
 extent that it comes through the dinin'-room ceilin', I'd 
 rather have a young gentleman to look after. Let alone 
 that that Hawkins waits on the ould master like a cat in 
 boots, till the silence and the tidiness grew so lonesome 
 that I often had a mind to take a stravague through the 
 rooms meself an' turn everything upside down. But, 
 glory be! that onnatural temptation is removed from 
 my path to-day." 
 
 Captain MacNeill was quite a long time at home before 
 he saw Esther. She was not well in those days, and 
 rather shrunk from meeting strangers. I used to wonder 
 how the sight of her would aflect him, for though Esther 
 needed happiness to bring out her beauty in full bloom, 
 yet the sorrow that dimmed her colour had given her 
 eyes a more mysterious midnight beauty, so that, to my 
 mind, she was lovelier for anyone who had eyes to see.
 
 THE UGLY DUCKLING. 313 
 
 I was quite anxious that they should meet, and yet I 
 had a curious shrinking from it. My anxiety was as for 
 something painful that has to be gone through, and the 
 sooner the better. 
 
 For I had made up my mind that Captain MacNeill 
 must inevitably fall in love with Esther. I used to sit 
 and look at her silently and try to see her as he would, 
 and I said to myself that it was inevitable. Before 
 Esther's eyes, and Esther's hair, and Esther's lovely 
 colour 
 
 Brown is my Love, but graceful, 
 
 And each renowned whiteness 
 Matched with that lovely brown loseth its brightness. 
 
 what chance would there be for blue eyes and pale 
 cheeks and pale hair if such desired to be remembered? 
 
 And if he came to love Esther, would she not in time 
 turn to his love and forget her boyish lover? Why, that 
 was inevitable too. The elder, stronger man was, it 
 seemed to me, so much more love-worthy. For in regard 
 to Esther's love of Harry De Lacy I had always a little 
 wonder. Now with me my love should be the stronger 
 one, not I. And yet it seemed that the gentleness, the 
 dependence, the need of Esther's lover was the dearest 
 element in her love for him. 
 
 Ah well! there are different ways of loving, and she 
 might yet love differently. Somehow, as I thought these 
 things, I seemed to be the spectator of a drama in which 
 I had no part. What part was cast for me indeed plain, 
 little, with a limping foot but to look at happiness 
 through the eyes of others? Yet I was not resigned.
 
 314 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 On the contrary, my compassion for myself was so 
 poignant that I often melted into tears. 
 
 At last the meeting came about. I was at Annagower 
 one afternoon, when, about tea-time, the General and 
 Captain MacNeill were announced. It was nearly twilight, 
 and we were sitting by a leaping fire. Esther was listless 
 enough, but the fire gave a simulated life to her beauty, 
 putting golden deeps into the darkness of her eyes, and 
 bronze lights amid the shadows of her hair. She had a 
 pretty pink frock of nun's veiling, and a handful of 
 bronze leaves pinned in the soft folds at her throat. 
 
 I drew back in the shadows to see how Captain 
 MacNeill took his first introduction to her. He looked 
 at her alertly indeed, and when he had sat down in my 
 corner beside me he looked at her again. I did not know 
 whether I was sorry or glad. There was admiration in 
 his look, but it was an admiration entirely impersonal 
 and distant; and after those two glances he looked only 
 at me. 
 
 He had been at home now several weeks, and in a day 
 or two he and his father were going to London. There 
 was business to be done, but they had been putting it off 
 week after week, being so delightfully happy with each 
 other at Rose Hill. 
 
 The day after their call at Annagower I was in the 
 library at Rose Hill. I had come in by the side door 
 unannounced, and imagined I had the house to myself, 
 pretty well, as usual, till the door opened and Captain 
 MacNeill walked hi. 
 
 "Why," I said, "are you at home to-day?" 
 
 "Yes; don't look so distressed about it. My father is
 
 THE UGLY DUCKLING. 315 
 
 at the Petty Sessions at Raheenduff. This is the first day 
 he takes his seat on the bench. And here am I, like the 
 little boy in the story, who had no one to play with, and 
 appealed to all the insects in turn, but they were all too 
 busy. Miss Hilda, are you too busy, or may I sit down 
 here?" 
 
 " You may, if you will tell me first which of the insects 
 I represent?" I said severely. 
 
 " It's too hard, Miss Hilda. Let it be a bird or a flower," 
 he said with imploring eyes. 
 
 I passed over the suggestion in silence. Then I rushed 
 awkwardly into a subject which had been much in my 
 mind. 
 
 " I was glad you met my sister yesterday. I have 
 always wanted you to meet her." 
 
 " Thank you. I was very pleased to meet her," he said 
 simply. 
 
 " She is my chum of all the family," I said. " I think 
 there is no one like Esther." 
 
 " She is a very lovely creature," he answered. 
 
 "You remembered her again?" I asked. 
 
 " No," he said, looking at me questioningly. " Did I see 
 her before?" 
 
 Well, I don't mind confessing that a little wave of joy 
 rushed over my heart. I could hardly keep my voice 
 still as I answered him, for I had told myself so often 
 that his eyes that day long ago must have been for 
 Esther. 
 
 " Why, of course," said I. " She was with me that day 
 at Annagassan races." 
 
 " I only saw one face there," he said softly.
 
 316 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 "Miss Pettigrew's?" I asked mischievously. 
 
 "Miss Pettigrew!" he repeated in astonishment. 
 
 " Yes, you remember you were walking with her when 
 you first passed close to our shandrydan early in the 
 day?" 
 
 "Ah! I remember; I had forgotten her name. Some- 
 one, a man in my regiment, had asked me to take her to 
 see the leaping at the stone wall. I never saw her after- 
 wards. But" with a flash of triumph "you noticed 
 me then and remembered me?" 
 
 "I couldn't help it. You were looking at us when I 
 was capering about because an Irish horse had won." 
 
 " I can see you now," he said. 
 
 "Don't, please!" I cried out. "I must have looked too 
 silly." 
 
 " Shall I tell you how you looked?" 
 
 My eyes dropped before his, and I trembled, but I said 
 nothing. 
 
 "I will tell you then. I thought you the dearest, 
 sweetest, softest little white-and-gold girl in all the 
 world." 
 
 "Oh!" I cried out, and held my fingers tightly across 
 my eyes. " You couldn't. I am Hilda the Ugly Duck- 
 ling. How could you look at me when Esther was 
 there?" 
 
 " Perhaps I like ugly ducklings," he said. 
 
 "And I have a lame foot!" I cried. 
 
 "Dear little foot! We will cure it." 
 
 I removed my fingers from before my eyes and said: 
 
 "The Dublin doctor said it would cure itself. I am 
 not nearly as lame as I used to be."
 
 THE UGLY DUCKLING. 317 
 
 "Ah! that is a good thing," he answered, laughing; 
 " but even if it were not curable, do you think that would 
 come between us?" 
 
 I said nothing, not quite knowing what to say. 
 
 " Come down here, you white witch," he said next, " or 
 am I to climb your ladder for you?" 
 
 " Oh, I will come down," I said, "but why?" 
 
 " Because I want the size of your finger. I will bring 
 you the prettiest ring I can find in Bond Street." 
 
 " Your father will think it very sudden," I said lamely. 
 
 " He will sing his Nunc Dimittis" he answered. " But 
 we will keep him with us as long as we can all the same."
 
 CHAPTER XXVIL 
 
 THE WEB OF THE SPIDER. 
 
 I REFUSED to wait to see the General, but rather 
 made Lance take me home early. 
 
 " I won't forbid your telling him," I said, " since you 
 think it will make him so happy, but I don't want it 
 talked about for a few days, till I have grown used to it, 
 and you come back." 
 
 So he consented, only saying how unlike we were, for 
 he wanted everyone to know his new importance; and I 
 did not know whether he jested or not. 
 
 I made him say good-bye to me on the doorstep of 
 Brandon, and watched him climb into the dog-cart again, 
 grumbling at my tyranny and want of hospitality. I 
 could not trust myself to sit opposite him in the presence 
 of Aline and the others without betraying my secret, over 
 which I felt so exquisitely shy. 
 
 Dear Aline suspected nothing, but was quite satisfied 
 with my explanation that Captain MacNeill had not come 
 in because he wanted to be back in time to meet his 
 father. 
 
 And now began for me the strangest, goldenest, most 
 exquisite time of dreams. It might have been Mayjn 
 the world instead of January, and the sun shining instead
 
 THE WEB OF THE SPIDER. 319 
 
 of the rain incessantly falling. That was a terribly wet 
 season the wettest, said the old people, that the longest 
 memory could recall. 
 
 There was distress in Brandon village, and all about the 
 country. Rotting thatch was falling into the poor cabins 
 and on to the reeking mud floors, so that in many cases 
 the wretched fires of half -green twigs were extinguished 
 and the bed whereon the sick or the old or the babies 
 lay went travelling round the bare walls, seeking a sound 
 spot where the rain would not find it. It was at such 
 times of distress that we felt our poverty most keenly, 
 though I think our good people knew as well as we 
 did how great our will was to help them. 
 
 Yet even the trouble of others could not damp my joy 
 in those days, or at least it shadowed my life on only one 
 side of it, and the other lay incessantly turned to the sun. 
 
 But still I thought a good deal about Esther's trouble, 
 which I seemed to understand better in the light of my 
 own joy. Amid my thanksgivings for my own sweet 
 happiness, I prayed hard for her that her trouble might 
 be removed and her joy given back, if God saw well to 
 do it. 
 
 We had not met since the great downpour began, and 
 that was the very day Lance and his father set out for 
 London. It was no weather for being out of doors, and 
 we did not expect the little brown pony-chaise to come 
 rattling up as before. The great sheets of leaden-gray 
 water that fell incessantly would have been enough to 
 sweep the little pony off his feet, and as the days passed 
 we began to hear stories of floods covering the country, 
 and bridges being swept away; and at last the boys
 
 320 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 ran in one morning with tidings that Brandon River 
 was out, and was bringing down hay-ricks, turf-stacks, 
 uprooted trees, and even little drowned mountain sheep 
 on its tide. 
 
 But one morning at last the rain ceased, and we 
 looked out on a watery world indeed, and a gray sky 
 without a rift of blue. Still, the rain had ceased, and 
 for that we were devoutly thankful. 
 
 I was meditating a rush out to get some fresh air, for 
 it seemed likely enough that the rain would soon begin 
 again, when my door was opened softly by Bride, the 
 little new maid. 
 
 " If you please, Miss," she said mysteriously, " this was 
 to be given into your very own hands. Little Johnny 
 from the Inch Farm has come with it this minute." 
 
 I took the bit of paper from the little maid's hand in 
 wonder, and she went out nodding and smiling, ap- 
 parently well satisfied now her commission was safely 
 executed. 
 
 The note was from Esther, and was written in pencil 
 on a leaf evidently torn from a note-book. 
 
 Come to me here, Hilda, at the Inch Farm, at once, 
 and say nothing to anybody. I want you more than I 
 ever did in my life before. Esther. 
 
 I put on my frieze cape and a cap, to be equipped 
 against the rain, and went out without meeting anybody. 
 
 The Inch Farm belonged to Michael O'Flaherty, the 
 husband of Esther's friend Margaret, Harry De Lacy's 
 foster-mother. I guessed that the urgent message had 
 something to do with Esther's lover, and as I got over 
 the ground as quickly as possible, I was praying silently
 
 THE WEB OF THE SPIDER. 321 
 
 that there might not be further grief and trouble for my 
 poor sister. 
 
 The Inch Farm lies towards the river, into which a 
 portion of the farm-land projects almost like an island. 
 It is, however, connected with the mainland, except when 
 water is very low in the river, by a rough causeway of 
 stones. But fortunately the farmhouse itself lies high and 
 dry where the fields ascend towards Brandon Mountain. 
 
 I made my way to the farmhouse by a muddy lane, 
 and through a farm-yard full of quacking ducks and 
 hissing geese, all casting weather-wise eyes to the 
 horizon. At the kitchen door, which was nearer to me 
 than the little green hall door, a donkey stood under his 
 low- backed car. I gave a glance at it as I passed, and 
 noticed with surprise that the cart was filled with rugs 
 and blankets, and apparently a very comfortable feather- 
 bed. 
 
 As I entered the kitchen Mrs. O'Flaherty's smiling 
 daughter Katie, a rosy-cheeked, black-eyed slip of six- 
 teen, came to meet me. 
 
 " They're waiting for you, Miss," she said mysteriously, 
 " 'idin in the parlour." 
 
 She opened the door, and I passed into that close- 
 smelling sanctum sanctorwm of an Irish farmhouse, the 
 best parlour. I did not give a glance at its glories. It 
 was like fifty others I knew trellised wall-paper, stiff 
 white muslin curtains, flowery carpet and horse-hair 
 furniture, and a curious country smell of damp and 
 closed windows. 
 
 As I entered, Esther jumped up from the sofa and ran 
 to meet me. She wore her out-of-door apparel, and was 
 
 ( II 436 ) X
 
 322 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 evidently making a vain effort to take some of Mrs. 
 O'Flaherty's seed-cake and sherry. That comfortable 
 woman herself sat (in her bonnet and with a great air 
 of importance) about a yard from the table and her own 
 portion of wine and cake. 
 
 "Oh, Hilda darling, I'm so glad you've cornel" said 
 Esther, hugging me impulsively. " Now, Maggie, you'll 
 be satisfied," she said, turning to Mrs. O'Flaherty. 
 
 " You know I didn't want to cross you," said the latter, 
 " and with one of the family to bear you out I've nothing 
 to say." 
 
 "But what is it all about?" I asked. 
 
 Mrs. O'Flaherty adjusted her bonnet-strings, and was 
 evidently about to answer me at great length when 
 Esther interposed. 
 
 " The long and the short of it is," she said, with an 
 excited little laugh, "is that we have discovered that 
 Sir Rupert has Harry imprisoned in that horrible place, 
 and we're going to kidnap him. There!" she said, lifting 
 her finger, "you can tell Miss Hilda everything about it 
 as we go along, Maggie. We had better start now while 
 the day is young and the rain holds off." 
 
 I heard everything as we trudged along in front of the 
 donkey-cart, while the rear was brought up by Michael 
 O'Flaherty and his big son Larry. 
 
 It seemed that Mrs. O'Flaherty's youngest, Tim, had 
 heard so much of Castle Angry in the days of his 
 mother's sojourn there, that the place had acquired a 
 fatal fascination for him. 
 
 " Flyin' kites he'll be," said his mother, " agin' the walls 
 o' that unlucky ould house, an' prospectin' for pinkeens
 
 M436 
 
 "HE SEEN THE STONE THAT HAD HIT HIM, AN* A BIT OF PAPER 
 WRAPPED AROUND IT."
 
 THE WEB OF THE SPIDER. 323 
 
 an' dalgalukers (i.e. minnows and newts) in that stinkin' 
 moat, till I'm expectin' him to come home to me in 
 quarters. Shoutin' out at night he does be with the 
 terror of the drames that does be on him, that Sir 
 Rupert has him, or Yalla Gaskin, that's worse, or them 
 brutes o' dogs, though I wouldn't liken them that can't 
 sin to wicked men. But 'tis the nature of boys that the 
 very fear draws him. He owns up to it himself; 'Often,' 
 he says, ' when I comes to the ould wood I do be diggin' 
 me finger-nails in the threes to hould me, but I goes on 
 all the same.' 
 
 "'Yerra, my boy,' says I, 'maybe 'tis your father's 
 belt will be houldiri ye.' But he minds that no more thin 
 Sir Rupert or the dogs, an' 'tis a long time the same belt's 
 promised him, for O'Flaherty's soft-hearted, an' never 
 could bring himself to batin' the childher. 
 
 " Well, glory be to Them above for that same parvarsity 
 of the boy, for the day before yesterday him an' the 
 Widdy Byrne's innocent son, that had no more sinse but 
 to follow him, was paddlin' in the moat, enjoyin' them- 
 selves all the more because they expected every minit 
 'ud be their last, when Johnny was struck on the poll by 
 a nate lump of a stone. ' Murder!' says he, ' they're stonin' 
 me!' for he had no more thought but that it was Gaskin's 
 tricks. Then no more stones came, an' when he had felt 
 his poll to make sure there wasn't a crack in it, he seen 
 the stone that had hit him starin' him in the face, an' a 
 bit of paper wrapped around it. 
 
 "Johnny's no scholar, for he's always mitchin' from 
 school, but he had the sinse to put the thing in his 
 pocket an' bring it home to me, though I'd promised him
 
 324 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 a lambastin' he'd never forgit the first time he went 
 near Castle Angry. 
 
 "You might have knocked me down with a straw 
 when I saw the bit of a letter was addressed to meself. 
 An' there it was from my beautiful lamb that I'd nursed, 
 saying that he was too ill to get out o' that unlucky 
 ould house by himself, an' had no one to help him but 
 his Maggie. An' if I'd come to-day he'd be able to open 
 the door to us, for Sir Rupert an' Gaskin were to be off 
 on some divilmint. ' Bring a carriage for me/ says he, 
 ' for I'm a-past walking.' " 
 
 The good woman paused for breath, and her husband 
 took up the tale with a broad grin. 
 
 " I sez to her that it was a case of housebreakin', an' 
 'ud bring us widin the law. 'If you're afeard, Mike 
 O'Flaherty,' she sez, 'say so, an' I goes alone.' 'Is it 
 me to be afeard of anything, woman,' says I, 'an' I after 
 marry in' you?'" 
 
 He looked at his partner's comely face with a jovial 
 pride, pleasant to witness. 
 
 " Maggie wanted me not to come," said Esther, " but I 
 said I must. I should go wild not knowing what was 
 happening." 
 
 "'Twas common prudence, Miss," said Mrs. O'Flaherty. 
 " What 'ud people say if they heard that Miss Brandon 
 was housebreakin' and kidnappin' at Castle Angry?" 
 
 " That was very sensible of you, Mrs. O'Flaherty," I 
 said. 
 
 " You'll be guided by your own sister now, Miss Essie," 
 said the good woman, nodding severely at Esther. 
 
 "I only satisfied Maggie's scruples by promising that
 
 THE WEB OF THE SPIDER. 325 
 
 you would come to give the sanction of the family, by 
 your presence, to my unconventional act." 
 
 I looked at Esther with amazement. Her eyes were 
 shining and her cheeks vividly flushed. Her hair was 
 crisp about her brow, crisper for the damp air, which 
 was deliciously sweet. She walked with a swinging 
 step, so that I had some trouble in keeping up with her. 
 Was this the languid Esther of the last three months, 
 about whom I had often a dark unexpressed fear lest 
 she should be going the way that Pierce went? 
 
 " I am glad you let her come, Mrs. O'Flaherty," I said 
 soberly. " It is hard to sit at home doing nothing." 
 
 Esther looked at me gratefully, and then put a caress- 
 ing arm about me. 
 
 " All very well, Miss," said Mrs. O'Flaherty gloomily. 
 "But how will it be if Sir Rupert meets us with a 
 blunderbuss?" 
 
 "Oh, he won't do that!" said I, laughing, though in 
 my heart I wasn't at all sure. " But if he did, what 
 would you do, Maggie?" 
 
 " Stan' her ground," answered her husband for her. 
 "She's a great Trojan, Miss, let alone that the foster- 
 son's more to her than her own flesh and blood." 
 
 Our way lay through by-roads and coppices, and we 
 met no one to wonder at our strange little procession. 
 Presently the donkey-cart had to part company from us, 
 and to meet us again after a detour, because the road was 
 under water, and we could only pass by taking to the 
 fields. This left Esther and me together, for Mrs. 
 O'Flaherty trudged the lanes with her husband and her 
 son.
 
 326 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " It's an odd way of doing it, Essie," said I. 
 
 " It is, Hilda, but the only way." 
 
 " I'd rather have driven up in a carriage in broad day- 
 light and taken him away," said I. 
 
 " Supposing Sir Rupert had shut the gates in our faces ?" 
 
 " There would be ways of making him open them." 
 
 "And a pretty bit of scandal for the county, where 
 there is already too much scandal about my Harry's 
 grandfather." 
 
 " I wish the General had been here," I said uneasily. 
 
 " He could not have helped, Hilda. Don't you see that 
 the thing is best done quietly?" 
 
 "Does your godmother know?" 
 
 " She knows I am with you this morning. That is all." 
 
 "She would approve?" 
 
 "Surely. Do you know her and doubt? I only did 
 not tell her because she is helpless and could not be with 
 us. I shall go to her straight and tell her as soon as my 
 Harry is safe under his foster-mother's wing at the Inch 
 Farm." 
 
 "He will be safe there?" 
 
 "Safer than anywhere in the world, except with 
 me." 
 
 "And afterwards, Esther?" 
 
 " I will marry him as soon as ever it can be arranged. 
 My godmother will help me, and I think Mr. Benson 
 would make things smooth for us." 
 
 " What if you find your Harry very ill?" 
 
 She trembled, and for a moment a shadow fell upon 
 her radiant face. Then it lifted again. 
 
 " I look to find him ill. When he is so helpless that he
 
 THE WEB OF THE SPIDER. 327 
 
 has had to remain in the clutches of those miscreants for 
 very weakness, he must be ill indeed. But there is the 
 more reason for hastening our marriage. Happiness will 
 make him well." 
 
 " I think you are right, Esther. But how will it be if 
 Lady O'Brien and Aline take the prudent view, and think 
 you should wait till he is stronger?" 
 
 "They will not," she said patiently; "but if they did 
 I should still know I was right. If he were stronger I 
 could wait for years." 
 
 " You will be poor, Essie." 
 
 "Very," she said with a happy smile. "Or at least 
 Harry says that the three hundred a year he has from 
 his mother will mean poverty." 
 
 " And Sir Rupert, they say, has untold gold laid up in 
 Castle Angry," I said regretfully. 
 
 " Brandon money," said Esther, " the fruits of fraud 
 and treachery. We would not touch a penny of it." 
 
 " You won't get the chance, my dear," said I. " But 
 what do you think Sir Rupert meant by keeping Harry 
 hidden away in Castle Angry?" 
 
 " God knows," she answered with a little shudder. 
 
 " He lied about him when he said he had gone away. 
 Do you think he meant to keep him apart from you as 
 long as he could?" 
 
 " Perhaps," she answered. 
 
 " Or, Esther, do you think he thought he would die ? 
 Why, he might as well have murdered him as kept him 
 wasting away for want of care and treatment. Besides, 
 before he grew so ill they must have detained him by 
 force."
 
 328 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 Her hands closed and unclosed themselves spasmodi- 
 cally. 
 
 " We will not talk about it," she said. " At least not 
 now. Let God judge him." 
 
 We were now at the entrance to the starved and 
 ragged wood which grew on the lower slopes of Angry 
 Mountain. 
 
 "Let us wait here," she said, "for Maggie and the 
 cart." 
 
 And now that we were approaching the place of evil 
 omen I saw that she had grown pale.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 OUT OF THE WEB. 
 
 WE were in the wood, and the boggy ground under 
 our feet was giving way at every step. The 
 wood seemed all bog except for the uneven pathway 
 which gave, in dry weather, a solid resting place. On 
 every side, under the tangled boughs, the ground was a 
 brilliant treacherous green. No rabbits scutted from 
 under our feet as in Brandon Woods, no squirrel ran 
 lightly from bough to bough. We did not hear a bird 
 chirp ; all the naked boughs of the branches showed here 
 and there a startling white surface, as though the tree 
 had been stripped by lightning. A wind had got up, 
 and the whole wood was creaking and groaning. The 
 trees were many of them very old, and had flung them- 
 selves in strange unnatural postures; the knots and 
 gnarls on the old oaks were like the grinning faces in 
 gargoyles. It was easy to see why the country people 
 were afraid of Angry Woods. 
 
 Even in the cold light of morning the woods were 
 eerie. In dusk they must look as if peopled by a multi- 
 tude of mocking manikins, with here and there among 
 them a towering white ghost. From the green and slimy
 
 330 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 bog, on which if you trod you might find a grave, a 
 thousand gaily -coloured fungi sprang, and from the 
 joints of the trees immense fairy mushrooms had burst 
 out and thriven gigantically. 
 
 "Quiet, quiet, Neddy!" I heard Mike O'Flaherty say 
 to the donkey, whose little hoofs he was guiding upon 
 the pathway. 
 
 "If there's another downpour," he called out to us, 
 " the path'U be washed back into the bog. We're not a 
 day too soon, maybe, about our business." 
 
 We answered him cheerfully over our shoulders; but 
 the wind that had now sprung up was not conducive to 
 conversation, let alone that the noise of the trees was 
 like the shrieking and groaning of wretches under the 
 knout. 
 
 " 'T would be as well," I said to Esther, " that the bog 
 should swallow it. This is a horrible place, this wood!" 
 And she nodded for answer. 
 
 Presently we were clear of it, and climbing up the 
 safer way through the ravine, and there above us on its 
 plateau was Castle Angry frowning. It looked livid in 
 the watery lights. It was partly stucco and partly ugly 
 yellow brick, and the tracks of the rains on its stuccoed 
 face were like great veins, as you saw it from a distance, 
 or like green and dropping tears. 
 
 The ravine had a rocky ridge for its pathway that 
 seemed as if at some time it had been the bed of a river 
 which had scooped the earth out and left only the bones of 
 it. We trod there more dry-foot, despite the little pools 
 on the surface of it, but our wet boots as we walked 
 squished and squirted uncomfortably.
 
 OUT OF THE WEB. 331 
 
 " You'll be having a new cold to-morrow, Esther," I said. 
 
 " Not I," she said ; " if Harry is safe I shall have no 
 more ills. We will change as soon as ever we get back." 
 
 And now we were on the bright-green plateau, where 
 the grass grew coarse and rank, and again the water 
 bubbled about our feet. The face of Castle Angry turned 
 this way was eyeless, and I was glad of it, for I would 
 have imagined evil faces at the windows, if windows 
 there had been. 
 
 We all kept closely together as we neared the gate, at 
 least we all did except Esther, for she ran forward lightly 
 and pulled the great iron bell-pull. We heard the bell 
 sound somewhere deep inside the Castle, and then there 
 came a roar from the dogs in the court-yard. 
 
 Mike O'Flaherty moved nearer to Esther, as if to pro- 
 tect her, but she did not seem to have heard the dogs. 
 She was listening against the heavy gateway, with the 
 intent expression of one whose heart listens. 
 
 Then we heard a voice speak to the dogs, and the 
 baying ceased. There was the rattle of a chain and the 
 drawing of a bolt, and then Harry De Lacy stepped 
 through the postern and was in the midst of us. 
 
 I was startled at the change in him. His face had 
 lengthened and grown hollow. There was a sparse 
 growth of beard about his young cheeks, and his eyes 
 had sunk far back into deep spaces. He was huddled 
 in a great-coat, and it was evident that in thus escaping 
 from Castle Angry he was expending all his remaining 
 strength, for he trembled violently as he stood. 
 
 Then, with a moan of compassion, Esther put both her 
 arms around him.
 
 332 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " Come, Mike," she said, " he is exhausted." 
 
 And indeed the boy's eyes had closed, and he seemed 
 to be swooning. 
 
 "Easy now, Miss Essie, "said Mike O'Flaherty; "give 
 him to me." 
 
 He took the slight figure in his arms and lifted it 
 into the donkey-cart. His wife settled the pillows and 
 tucked in the blankets, with just such an expression as 
 her face must often have worn when Harry De Lacy was 
 a helpless child. 
 
 " They've nearly murdered you, acushla," she said, half 
 to herself; "an' to think your Maggie was near, an' not 
 knowing till 'twas too late." 
 
 While they were making the invalid easy, I stepped 
 through the open door into the court-yard. Opposite to 
 me frowned the low, prison-like door that led to the 
 Castle itself. I longed to enter it, to see the places about 
 which there were so many legends, but there was no time. 
 
 The court-yard itself was like a deep well into which 
 little light entered. Round about it were little staring 
 windows, unprotected by ivy. Not a green thing grew in 
 the place, though the broken pavement was slimy with 
 damp. 
 
 At one side the dogs were chained to heavy staples in 
 the wall great, lumbering, piteous-looking brutes, with 
 their eyes full of blood. I did not feel afraid of them, 
 and they showed no hostility. One, an old yellow dog, 
 with sharp fangs, was, I thought, the one Sir Rupert had 
 called " Venom " that day he had ridden under my tree 
 long ago, but I could not be sure. 
 
 The dogs looked beyond me to the postern, through
 
 OUT OF THE WEB. 333 
 
 which Harry De Lacy had passed, and their eyes were 
 full of despair. I could well believe that they knew they 
 were losing their one friend. 
 
 "Poor brutes!" I said to them. "I wish we could take 
 you too." 
 
 But they looked away from my voice still towards 
 the postern- gate. 
 
 " Come, Hilda," said Esther, close to me, " we are ready 
 now, and it is time we were gone." 
 
 I looked round the place once more, and then stepped 
 back across the threshold and pulled-to the door. As I 
 did so the dogs set up a dismal howling, and as long as we 
 were within earshot of the place the sound followed us. 
 
 Larry now went in front, leading the donkey. On either 
 side of the cart Esther and Mrs. O'Flaherty walked, each 
 watching absorbedly the face so dear to both of them, 
 the face of the dead it might be, as it lay helplessly on 
 the pillows, but moving to and fro with the motion of 
 the cart. 
 
 Mike O'Flaherty and I walked behind, and the peasant's 
 florid face wore an unusually grave look. 
 
 " 'Twill be too bad, Miss Hilda," he said, as the cart 
 disappeared from us round the bend of a path, " if we've 
 only got him out to lose him after all." 
 
 " It will, Mike," said I; " but, please God, that won't be." 
 
 "Amen, Miss Hilda; but he looks mortal bad." 
 
 " He is young, Mike, and, God willing, he will recover. 
 Your wife's nursing will do wonders for him." 
 
 "Oh, the woman'll do her best! Tis wonderful what 
 nature is in women for the childher they've rared. I 
 doubt now if she's as much took up wid her own Johnny."
 
 334 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " Oh, I am sure she is!" said I, fearing a tinge of jealousy 
 in the speech of the good-natured giant; "only, you see, 
 Johnny hasn't the great need of her that her foster-son 
 has just now." 
 
 "True for you, Miss Hilda. The woman's love goes 
 where the need is greatest, an' thank God for that 
 same." 
 
 " Your Johnny did us a great service, Mike," I said. 
 " I know my sister will never forget it." 
 
 " He did so, the young thief o' the world, an', would 
 you believe it, when it was all done herself threatened 
 the boy with the belt, and left him bawlin' melia murther." 
 
 " I suppose Mrs. O'Flaherty thought discipline should 
 be maintained at all costs." 
 
 " Indeed she's the wonderful woman entirely," said her 
 spouse admiringly. 
 
 " What will you do, Mike," said I, " if Sir Rupert finds 
 out your share in kidnapping his grandson, and makes 
 trouble?" 
 
 " Show the ould villain the barrel o' me blunderbuss," 
 said Mike. "Oh, indeed, Miss Hilda, I'm a stout man 
 on me own hearthstone! I wouldn't be half the man 
 to face him up there, though he's ould, an' I could twist 
 Gaskin's neck as easy as a chicken's. But the place sends 
 the cowld to my heart." 
 
 " It does to mine too, Mike," said I. 
 
 " Ah, see there now ! There was a power o' wicked- 
 ness done in it in ould times. 'Tis the smell of it about 
 the place makes your blood run cowld." 
 
 " I suppose there was," I said. 
 
 "You may say it. There's a hole under it, I hear,
 
 OUT OF THE WEB. 335 
 
 where they used to sling prisoners in the ould times. It 
 went right through into the heart o' the world, maybe 
 as far as the fires, for all I know. There was no end to 
 it anyhow, an' they say you could hear the poor souls 
 slippin' an' screechin' long after they fell. I never seen 
 it meself," added Mike impartially. 
 
 We were now come to the wood, where the trees were 
 still creaking and groaning, while now and again a broken 
 branch flapped in our faces. 
 
 " Tis well they may lament," said Mike. " A-many a 
 fine fellow hung on them in ould days wid the feet of him 
 kickin' in air. There's a Curse on the place, that's what 
 there is, Miss Hilda, an' I'd never have come next or 
 nigh it but that herself shamed me to it." 
 
 " I hope Mr. De Lacy will escape the Curse, if there is 
 one," said I. 
 
 " Och sure, if we can get him well an' marry him to 
 Miss Essie the ould Curse '11 rowl off him like water off a 
 duck's back. Sure he's not like a De Lacy at all. His 
 father before him took the turn against the ould bad 
 ways, an' himself here is the better man. If we can only 
 get him well," he added. 
 
 There was a patter of rain in our faces, and the wood 
 trembled before a fresh onslaught of wind. 
 
 "Glory be! I hope it's not going to rain again," said 
 Mike. " If it does, there's no knowin' what'll be hap- 
 penin'. I've never seen the country under such rain 
 before. The year o' the big rain they might be callin' it." 
 
 " It's hard on you, Mike," I said sympathetically. 
 
 " It is. The seed's nigh washed out of the earth, an' I 
 never knew as hard a season for the lambs. But 'tis
 
 336 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 worse wid some others. I've a stout roof over me, thank 
 God, an' fine foundations. If the rain comes on again 
 there'll be many a little rickety cabin washed out to 
 sea. The fear's on them already, the crathurs." 
 
 "The fear, Mike?" 
 
 "Aye, the fear. They're as frightened as sheep of 
 somethin' that's goin' to happen, they don't know what. 
 There's keenin' an' manifestations by night, they say, an' 
 some say the dead rises out o' their graves night after 
 night in the Bawn churchyard an' walks the world." 
 
 "Oh dear!" I said, shivering with infectious super- 
 stition, " I'd no idea there were such stories about." 
 
 " Well, there might be. They say some of the coffins 
 have been washed out of the graves. The Bawn lies on 
 a shelf o' land, as you know, Miss Hilda; an' people 
 comin' on them things by night in the middle o' the road 
 is apt to be onraisonable afraid." 
 
 " I should think so, indeed," said I. 
 
 " Father deary's in an' out among the people constant. 
 All the sick an' aged people is wanting the last sacra- 
 ment, like as if the world was comin' to an end. He 
 spoke agin the fear that's on the people last Sunday 
 from the altar, an' said it was a delusion of the Powers 
 o' Darkness. But 'tis no use his talkin'. They say the 
 priest has great power over heaven and hell, but there's 
 a world that's nayther, nor yet earth, an' he can't put 
 his comether on that." 
 
 Mike had entertained me but gloomily. I knew the 
 superstitions among the people, superstitions that rose as 
 naturally out of the damp earth as the mists and the 
 vapours. Our valleys are hemmed in by immense and
 
 OUT OF THE WEB. 337 
 
 lonely mountains, round which the clouds hang like a 
 winding-sheet. Our people are fishers or small farmers, 
 engaged for ever in the struggle to win a bare subsis- 
 tence against all the forces of nature. A wet summer 
 means death and famine by land. A wild winter the 
 same doom by sea. No wonder that superstition 
 flourishes, that the belief in fairy and ghost and wraith 
 is wrought up so inextricably with the belief in saints 
 and angels, that one could hardly pull up one without 
 the other, the weeds without the golden corn. 
 
 It was weather to foster the Celtic melancholy, and if 
 it were going to rain again then it might well be that 
 calamity would follow. 
 
 But now we were at the Inch Farm, and presently in 
 the roomy kitchen with its leaping wood fire. Mike and 
 his son lifted the feather-bed bodily out of the donkey- 
 cart and carried it to a bedroom where a fire had been 
 lit. Esther watched all this hungrily as if she would 
 have fain done everything herself. 
 
 Mrs. O'Flaherty meanwhile issued her orders like a 
 general. Johnny was despatched for Dr. Rivers, and 
 Esther and I were installed in big chairs before the fire. 
 Our wet shoes and stockings were pulled off quickly and 
 replaced by fleecy stockings of Mrs. O'Flaherty's own 
 knitting. 
 
 While she was doing this her daughter Katie was 
 serving up a meal of toasted bacon and eggs on a table at 
 our elbow. 
 
 " Now eat, jewels," said our kind hostess, " while I look 
 after my baby. Larry '11 rowl yez back to Brandon on 
 the side car as soon as ever Dr. Rivers has gone, an' the 
 
 ( M 436 ) Y
 
 338 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 sooner yez are back the better, for I'm sore afraid of the 
 weary ould rain beginnin' again." 
 
 Then she bustled off to see to her baby, as she still 
 called Harry De Lacy. 
 
 I was glad that Esther seemed content to leave him in 
 her charge. Dr. Rivers had come before we were ready 
 to start, having fortunately been at home when Johnny 
 arrived. He was a much more efficient doctor than poor 
 old Dr. Devine, and it was fortunate that when he left 
 the army he had decided to settle down in our neigh- 
 bourhood. 
 
 He came into the parlour to us after he had seen his 
 patient. 
 
 " Well, Dr. Rivers, what do you think of him?" Esther 
 said, jumping up as soon as the door opened. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Brandon, how do you do?" he said. "I see 
 you have not lost interest in Mr. De Lacy." 
 
 He looked at her with his keen, man-of-the-world 
 eyes. 
 
 " We are to be married, Dr. Rivers," said Esther, with 
 a pathetic little air of dignity. 
 
 The doctor's face changed, and oecame full of sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 "Oh, indeed!" he said; "no wonder you are anxious. 
 There is nothing really the matter except that his vitality 
 has been greatly reduced. What have they been doing to 
 him since I put him out of my hands at Brandon, well on 
 the way to recovery?" 
 
 Esther told him briefly of the young man's detention 
 at Castle Angry, and of our rescue of him. He nodded 
 at intervals during the telling.
 
 OUT OF THE WEB. 339 
 
 "Ah! Miss Brandon," he said when she had finished, 
 "one comes on strange happenings in one's profession, 
 but this is like a tale out of a book, and no sober nine- 
 teenth-century business at all. Can you explain Sir 
 Rupert's rancour against his grandson?" 
 
 " There is enmity of long standing between Sir Rupert 
 and our family. He probably thought that if he could 
 keep his grandson long enough from his friends the 
 matter of our engagement would fall through." 
 
 "He would have slipped through his fingers very soon," 
 said the physician grimly. " The man must be mad. If 
 the lad had died of neglect and semi-starvation it would 
 have been manslaughter at least. As it is," he said 
 hastily, noticing that my sister had turned pale, " I 
 believe you have saved him, Miss Brandon, though there 
 is a lot of building-up required. Still, he is young, and 
 happiness is a wonderful cure. You are leaving him in 
 Mrs. O'Flaherty's care?" 
 
 " Till he is a little stronger. She is his foster-mother, 
 and will watch over him with the utmost tenderness." 
 
 "And afterwards?" 
 
 "We will be married as soon as possible, and I shall 
 take him abroad." 
 
 I wondered for the hundredth time at the power and 
 resolution that had come into Esther with her love. 
 Here she was arranging the future for herself and her 
 lover as I should never have dared to do. 
 
 " Ah ! that will be good," said Dr. Rivers. " Get him 
 away from places that are painful by association, as soon 
 as possible. Above all, keep him from any conflict with 
 his grandfather."
 
 340 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " I don't think he will come into our lives again," said 
 Esther, her face darkening. "If he should, we must 
 protect ourselves at any cost. But at present you under- 
 stand, Dr. Rivers, we are anxious to avoid publicity and 
 scandal." 
 
 " The matter is safe with me, Miss Brandon," said the 
 physician, bowing. " We have to hear so many strange 
 things in the course of our profession that it would never 
 do if we were not men of discretion." 
 
 " Thank you, Dr. Rivers," said my sister heartily, as he 
 took leave of us. 
 
 Larry drove us home on a jaunting-car that reminded 
 me of our equipage long ago at Annagassan Races. As we 
 drove along, the mountains were gray with rain, and the 
 first fine sweep of it came in our faces. 
 
 " How shall I get back to Annagower if it comes on to 
 rain heavily?" said Esther, as we leant close together 
 under an umbrella. 
 
 " Don't go back to-night, Essie," said I. " Sleep with 
 me as in the old times. We can send word to Lady 
 O'Brien that the weather has kept you." 
 
 " I should like to stay," she said. 
 
 "I have such wonderful things to tell you, Essie," I 
 whispered, " about myself" 
 
 She looked at me with wonder. 
 
 "More literary successes, Hilda?" she asked. 
 
 " No, Essie, not literary successes." 
 
 "And what, then, Hilda?" 
 
 She turned straight round, letting the umbrella drip 
 upon our heads, unnoticed, and looked into my eyes. 
 
 "Not that, Hilda?" she said, incredulously.
 
 OUT OF THE WEB. 341 
 
 "And why not that?" I cried. "I suppose you think 
 no one in the world has a lover but yourself." 
 
 "You darling!" she said; "and to think I can't hug you 
 because of this umbrella!" 
 
 " You might as well, Essie, for the rain has been pour- 
 ing down my spine in a perfect cascade for the last five 
 minutes." 
 
 "Oh, I am sorry, you poor child! But here we are 
 at Brandon. Find me a messenger for my godmother, 
 Hilda, and I shall stay, and we shall have a dearer talk 
 than ever we had in the old days. Oh, to think," she cried, 
 as she furled, much to my relief, that most inefficient 
 umbrella, "that all our dreams should have come true! 
 Oh, how good God is, Hilda, how good God is!" 
 
 I looked at her glowing face in wonder. Clearly there 
 was no misgiving for the future in it. Her joy and faith 
 were infectious, and I too felt my heart singing a song, 
 despite the rain and the gloom, and despite my memory 
 of the worn and haggard young face of Esther's lover.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE LAST OF CASTLE ANGRY. 
 
 WE captured little Tim Brophy from Brandon village, 
 just as he turned away after delivering his basket 
 of eggs at the kitchen-door, and kept him till Esther's 
 note to her godmother was written. 
 
 " Run fast, Tim," said Esther as she gave it to him, " or 
 you'll be drenched before you get back." 
 
 "Never fear, Miss Esther," he answered cheerfully. 
 " I'll be back before I'm gone." 
 
 And, to judge by the rate of speed at which his bare 
 legs and red head disappeared, he would keep his word 
 in the spirit, if not in the letter. 
 
 We sat with Aline in her lamp-lit room over the tea- 
 cups, and Esther made her confession, even to the events 
 of the morning. 
 
 Poor Aline looked bewildered as the tale proceeded. 
 
 "Well," she said at last, "you seem to have been making 
 your own life, Esther. I hope you are going to be happy, 
 my dear, but" with a little hurt look " I am so much 
 in the dark nowadays. First it is Freda, and now Essie 
 who has a story to tell, and I am the last to hear it. 
 Perhaps it is my own fault that I do not understand you 
 girls."
 
 THE LAST OF CASTLE ANGRY. 343 
 
 Now at this I had a great qualm, for here was I, too, 
 keeping Aline in the dark. 
 
 "It is only because they had troubles, darling, that 
 they kept secrets from you," I cried impulsively. " You 
 have always been carrying the whole of us on your 
 shoulders, and have had so much trouble already." 
 
 And with that I burst out with the whole story of my 
 own lover, which I had indeed intended to tell no one but 
 Esther, until he returned. When I had finished, Aline 
 kissed me and then laughed. 
 
 " It is too much for one day, children," she said. " Per- 
 haps even now the twins are on their way to me with 
 news of their betrothal." 
 
 Then I knew she was pleased that I was to marry 
 Lance. Indeed, when did she ever think of anything but 
 our happiness ? To both Esther and myself she was full 
 of sweetness, but I could see that she was anxious lest 
 further trouble should be on its way to poor Essie, though 
 she said frankly that she believed Harry De Lacy was as 
 good as his grandfather was wicked. Still, his delicate 
 health troubled her, and I imagine that in her heart she 
 dreaded further evil from Sir Rupert. 
 
 While we sat in the white-panelled room we heard the 
 rain beating sharply against the windows, and as the 
 evening darkened came the rumbling of distant thunder. 
 Aline sent hurriedly to know if all her little flock was 
 safe indoors. Yes, the boys were amicably engaged in 
 teaching the twins to play chess, in the comfortable 
 downstairs room which belonged to the younger ones, 
 and which we seldom invaded. 
 
 "Ah!" said Aline with a sigh, "we ought to be thankful,
 
 344 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 this inclement night, that the tempest threatens no head 
 dear to us." 
 
 We said nothing, for we knew she was thinking of 
 Pierce, who had been out in the wind and rain so many 
 comfortless nights, and who was now safe and warm 
 within his Father's House. 
 
 After dinner we sat in the dining-room till nearly bed- 
 time, all of us together. Outside, the rain still poured, 
 and there was an incessant flashing of lightning across 
 the drenched country, so that at last we drew the heavy 
 curtains to shut it out. 
 
 The boys had heard the tales that Mike O'Flaherty 
 had been telling me, and eerier stories still. One was 
 that Mathew Hanrahan, a sad-faced widower whom we 
 all knew, had seen his own corpse brought to his door 
 by Brandon river. Another was that when they were 
 waking a young woman over by Barnacree side, the tide 
 had risen and carried the dead with it out to sea. 
 
 " I wish we had the money," said Hugh the practical, 
 " to see to those old upper rooms. The rain is in them 
 to-night, I daresay, and some night of high wind we 
 shall have the chimneys through the floors down upon 
 our beds." 
 
 "Ah! dear boy," said Aline, "many things come to 
 Brandon, but never money: I believe we shall be the 
 poor Brandons to the end of time." 
 
 "And to think," grumbled Donald, "that there are 
 chests full of gold in Angry at least so the poor people 
 say which ought to be ours by right!" 
 
 "We don't grudge Sir Rupert his gold," said Aline with 
 a little shrug of her shoulders.
 
 THE LAST OF CASTLE ANGRY. 345 
 
 "Not if the other things must be thrown in, you mean," 
 said Hugh shrewdly. " But, Aline, we Donald and I 
 are going to save the old place yet." 
 
 " But how, dear boy ? You don't know how much 
 money we should want." 
 
 Hugh, who had been lying on the hearth-rug, stretched 
 himself all his young length, with a suggestion of a 
 creature cramped for space. 
 
 "You must let us go, Aline. We are no longer chil- 
 dren, and there are fortunes to be made in the world." 
 
 "But where would you go?" asked Aline in a hushed 
 voice. Her face had grown a little paler, but she hardly 
 seemed surprised. Perhaps she had been dreading some 
 such thing for long. 
 
 "We will go to Africa to Mr. Desmond. He told us 
 long ago that he should have room for us when we were 
 men. Now we are men, and he has room for us. He has 
 opened up a new diamond field, as you would know, Aline, 
 if you ever read the newspapers." 
 
 " Must both of you go?" said Aline in the same hushed 
 voice. " We are only women and children here, and 
 Pierce left us to you, Hugh." 
 
 " There is nothing for a man to do here, and we will 
 stick together till we bring home the ransom of Brandon 
 in our hands. We have friends now. It is not as in 
 the old days when we knew no one. There is the General, 
 and there is Captain MacNeill always at hand." 
 
 Hugh looked at me curiously. It made me suspect 
 that he knew something of the state of affairs. 
 
 " They will befriend you," he went on earnestly. "Cap- 
 tain MacNeill knows, and thinks we are right. The
 
 346 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 General wanted me to go into the army, but that means 
 cadging on him, and I prefer, and so does Donald, to 
 make our fortunes." 
 
 "How do you know Mr. Desmond will help you?" said 
 Aline. " He helped Pierce, and they quarrelled." 
 
 " He would not remember it against us," cried the boys 
 together. 
 
 "He is coming home, Aline," said Donald, suddenly 
 turning all the contents of a miscellaneous pocket on to 
 the table. 
 
 There were five pocket-handkerchiefs, a clay pipe, a 
 roll of string, a pocket-knife, some loose matches, a piece 
 of shag tobacco, a book of flies, and several more or less 
 dilapidated wads of paper. He smoothed out one of 
 these with his hands, and pointed to the conclusion of a 
 paragraph. 
 
 "It is rumoured that Mr. Desmond will spend a portion 
 of next summer in revisiting his native country." 
 
 He read it aloud, and then handed it to Aline. 
 
 " We have known it for some time," said Hugh. " We 
 shall wait till he comes, and ask him if he has room for 
 us. If he says he has not, we must go somewhere on our 
 own hook. We want no more from him, Aline, than any- 
 one else, but it would be less lonesome if he were our 
 friend." 
 
 " The old nest will soon be deserted," said Aline, look- 
 ing round on us. " I shall be like the wood -pigeon we 
 saw last summer after the hawk had eaten her mate and 
 the young ones, and she used to call them about the 
 empty nest." 
 
 " The hawk is the world, Aline," I said, " but the world
 
 THE LAST OF CASTLE ANGRY. 347 
 
 shall not swallow us. We shall be with you, and the 
 boys will return." 
 
 "Ah, yes!" said Aline, "they will return, perhaps." 
 
 She got up suddenly and went out of the room, and 
 after a little while, when we went to look for her we 
 found she had gone to her room for the night. 
 
 We went to bed somewhat melancholy in consequence, 
 and I think Esther and I were glad to have each other's 
 company. With the night the wind had risen, and as 
 we went along the corridors to our bedrooms it raved 
 and shrieked outside, and whistled through every key- 
 hole as though it were trying to drown the noise of the 
 thunder. We scurried fast along the upper floor, for the 
 lightning made the well of the staircase as light as day 
 with its almost incessant flashing, and the ragged tapestry 
 on the walls trailed out like banners, and flapped in our 
 faces as we passed by. 
 
 When we had reached my room at last, I ran to draw 
 the curtains and shut out the night. Very vividly in the 
 white lightning I saw the sister mountains of Brandon 
 and Angry, for now that the trees were leafless the latter 
 showed its frowning head. 
 
 I paused an instant to gaze at them, and as I did so the 
 lightning passed, leaving a gulf of profound blackness. 
 The side of Castle Angry was towards us as we stood, and 
 I could see the flashing of a light travelling apparently 
 from floor to floor. 
 
 " Come, Esther, and look," I said. " There is a light in 
 Angry. I wonder how they are feeling over there about 
 the escape of the captive." 
 
 Esther looked with me an instant, and then cried to me
 
 348 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 to come away, for a zigzag of blue lightning smote the 
 head of Angry, and then seemed to leap down the chasm. 
 As the thunder rattled and roared behind it, I closed the 
 shutters and then stirred the fire, so that the room was 
 cheerful. 
 
 We went to bed after praying for the poor people who 
 were in danger from the night's storm. We lay awake 
 for long talking of our own affairs, and of the boys and 
 their resolution. Esther was the first to sleep. I looked 
 at her where she lay in the shadow, smiling in sleep for 
 I had kept a lamp burning to mitigate the glare of the 
 lightning, and I thanked God for the peace the events 
 of the last twenty-four hours had brought to my sister's 
 heart. Mine, too, felt at peace about her and her love. 
 I remember thinking, the last thing before I slept, that 
 God was stronger than Sir Rupert De Lacy, and the 
 thought sent me asleep smiling. 
 
 When I awoke the room was dark, for the lamp had 
 died down. Paudeen, who always sleeps on a mat at my 
 door, was howling in the most melancholy way, but, full 
 of horror and omen as a dog's howl is, I did not think it 
 was that which had wakened me. For a second or two I 
 lay dazed and terrified. Then Esther stirred at my 
 side. 
 
 "Oh, Hilda! what is it?" she cried. "What a hor- 
 rible night it is! I think something terrible has hap- 
 pened." 
 
 " I will see," said I, getting out of bed in the dark. 
 
 As my foot touched the floor Paudeen again raised his 
 voice. I ran to the door and opened it, and spoke to the
 
 THE LAST OF CASTLE ANGRY. 349 
 
 dog. He was trembling as he came in fawning against 
 my feet. The house outside was full of the gray dawn, 
 and on the glass skylight overhead I heard the rain 
 streaming. 
 
 But another sound than the rain was in our ears. 
 There was a roaring as of many waters, a groaning and 
 rumbling as of the earth itself. One could hardly say if 
 it was near or distant; it seemed all about us. 
 
 I opened the shutters with a hand that shook. 
 
 "Oh, Hilda," moaned Esther again, "what has hap- 
 pened? It is like the Day of Judgment." 
 
 " Something has happened," I replied, "or is happening, 
 but old Brandon is safe. I'm afraid there must be a great 
 flood, or an earthquake, or something, but we are firm. 
 There is not a tremor in the house." 
 
 I took up Paudeen, who was shivering miserably, and 
 put him into my bed. 
 
 "There, you two poor frightened things," said I, "com- 
 fort each other." 
 
 But I did not feel at all so brave myself. Just then 
 there came a knocking at the door, and Hugh's voice. 
 
 "Are you awake, Hilda?" 
 
 "Yes, and up," I answered. "What has happened?" 
 
 "I can't tell yet, except that I believe we are safe. 
 Dress yourself and come out till we see. The rain is 
 leaving off." 
 
 Esther and I dressed ourselves hastily, and joined the 
 two boys. As we went downstairs the twins came flying 
 after us, and we met Oona coming up from below. 
 
 " Go up and see if Miss Aline is awake," I said to her. 
 " We must not leave an empty house."
 
 350 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " Don't go into any danger, childher," she said with a 
 groan, and then broke out into a string of wirra wir- 
 rasthrues. 
 
 But Donald, who had been the first to open the hall 
 door, came running back. 
 
 "There is a flood or something over at Angry," he 
 cried. " Stay back, you young ones, you can look from 
 the windows; but there may be help needed, and men. 
 Keep them at home, Hilda," he said to me. 
 
 " No," I said, " I will go to watch over you boys. I 
 dare not let you go alone." 
 
 "It is the bog! it is the bog!" cried Oona suddenly; 
 " an' there are little houses in its thrack, an' little chil- 
 dher, an' men an' women! Oh, Lord, have mercy! The 
 time the bog was out at Docra five-an'-forty years ago, 
 my own sister and her three little childher were among 
 the dead!" 
 
 She flung her apron over her head, and began rocking 
 herself to and fro. I pushed her into a great chair that 
 was in the hall. 
 
 "There, you children," I said to the twins, "stay with 
 Oona, and comfort her. And here, keep Paudeen; he 
 must not follow us." 
 
 We shut the door on the disappointed twins, and hurried 
 away down the long avenue. The rain had indeed stopped, 
 and the air was sweet with a salt breeze from the sea. 
 Every minute the day grew clearer about us, and the 
 morning would have been sweet and gentle enough, save 
 for the menace and fear of the roaring bog. 
 
 By the time we had reached the road it was day, and 
 we came upon groups of men, women, and children, all
 
 THE LAST OF CASTLE ANGRY. 351 
 
 hurrying one way, and that way towards Angry. We 
 joined the hurrying groups with a hasty word or two. 
 
 " Tis the bog, sure enough," said a woman to me, " an' 
 in its track to the sea there is many a cabin. Lord, 
 have mercy!" 
 
 All this time we were under the walls and the trees of 
 Brandon Woods. Now we emerged from them, and came 
 on the climbing road that winds between Brandon and 
 Angry, skirting the slope of Brandon. As we reached 
 it we saw people standing in motionless groups, all look- 
 ing towards Angry. Below them a little way the bog 
 was widening like a sea. 
 
 " There is nothing to be done here," I heard Hugh cry 
 suddenly. " But there is time yet to warn some of the 
 people that the bog is coming. Here, you boys that are 
 fast runners, cut across the mountain for your lives to 
 Docra and Doorish. And any of you men that have a 
 horse, mount it and ride to Adeelish and Araglen, and let 
 them know the bog is out." 
 
 The crowd scattered in many directions, and as I saw 
 the lads, fleet as mountain goats, speed up the pathways, 
 I felt sure that by my brother's presence of mind many 
 lives would be saved. 
 
 " Ropes and ladders may be useful," he said, " but not 
 here. I think there is nothing to be done here." 
 
 From where we were we could see Angry Woods, but 
 not Castle Angry, and the woods were tossing as in a 
 tempest, though there was no wind. Hitherto the woods 
 had offered some barrier to the bog. Now, as we watched, 
 they bent one way, as though they would lay their faces 
 against the earth, and then with a huge groaning and
 
 352 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 tearing, a great slice of the centre of the woods began to 
 move. 
 
 We who saw this terrible sight ran back aghast at the 
 terror of it. We climbed Brandon higher and higher, 
 though we were already far out of reach of the bog. 
 Then at last we flung ourselves on the sward exhausted, 
 and some of us gained courage to turn and look. I found 
 Esther by my side. Hugh and Donald had vanished. 
 They were seeing what could be done to save life, I 
 knew, as Brandons ought, and I would not be afraid for 
 them. 
 
 But Castle Angry! where was it? I stood up in the 
 cold white light, that showed everything in sharp lights 
 and shadows, and looked with amazement upon Angry 
 Mountain. The ravine was full of the bog, moving, a 
 great black sluggish mass. Now that the wood no longer 
 held it back, it came on narrower and swifter. Below us 
 in the valley there was an inextricable mass of tree-trunks, 
 mixed up with debris of all kinds. But where Castle 
 Angry had lifted its gateway with the two square towers 
 there was nothing now, nothing but bog. 
 
 I seized Esther's hand and pointed. 
 
 "Look!" I cried; "see how God saves the innocent! 
 If the bog had moved a day earlier, where would Harry 
 De Lacy have been?" 
 
 And now something more terrible than all happened, 
 for as the flood came down from Angry through the gap 
 in the wood, someone cried out that there was a man or 
 a body floating. We were all women, and panic-stricken, 
 yet with some vague feeling that life might be saved, we 
 turned back as impetuously as we had come, and ran, out-
 
 M436 
 
 "THE RAVINE WAS FULL OF THE BOG, MOVING, A GREAT BLACK 
 SLUGGISH MASS."
 
 THE LAST OF CASTLE ANGRY. 353 
 
 stripping each other, as near as we dared to where the 
 bog had filled the valley, as though it were the bed of 
 a river. Then we waited. 
 
 And presently there came down with the bog the 
 wretch we were unable to help. He was crouched on 
 something, a plank, or a tree-trunk, what it was we could 
 not rightly see, for all was equal in the black bog- water. 
 There he sat, as one astride a raft, an awful image of fear. 
 
 Nor was he alone. Facing him on his raft was a great 
 yellow dog, with bared fangs and bristling hair, as though 
 terror had driven the creature mad. 
 
 "It is Gaskin!" said someone, and then a moan broke 
 from the crowd, but no one spoke, though many there 
 had cause to curse his name. The doomed wretch gave 
 us a horrible glare of appeal as he swept by, and his 
 raft, caught by the current, swayed this way and that 
 way. But we could do nothing. He was in mid-stream, 
 and so he and the dog that was called Venom swung on 
 with the bog, round the foot of Brandon Mountain, and 
 out of the sight of man. 
 
 ( M 436 )
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 WEDDING-BELLS. 
 
 THE bog-slide claimed but one other victim, and that 
 was Thomas Hanrahan, the widower, in his Inoe 
 cabin over to Barnagee. His "fetch" had not come to 
 him for nothing. The inhabitants of the other cabins 
 that stood in its path had received timely warning, or it 
 had skirted them. Many wonderful escapes were re- 
 corded, for the bog had crept in and out like a snake, 
 sometimes almost washing the threshold of a house, and 
 sparing it; and again it had widened to swallow the bits 
 of hillside farms that had been made out of blood and 
 sweat. 
 
 It took its heavy toll of cattle, and crops, and sheep, 
 and of little thatched cabins; but its human sacrifice was 
 small -just Thomas Hanrahan and these two men up at 
 Castle Angry. The long dttour it had to make round the 
 foot of our noble mountain had saved many lives. The hill 
 had stood guarding the people till the warning reached 
 them, and now we Brandons held in greater love, if that 
 were possible, the beneficent mountain which was called 
 by our name. 
 
 Thomas Hanrahan's body was flung up by the bog 
 after some days, and received Christian burial; but of
 
 WEDDING-BELLS. 355 
 
 Sir Rupert and his bailiff nothing was ever heard. The 
 bog had swallowed them, and when at last it stopped 
 moving and was quiet, the ravine over which Castle Angry 
 had stood was all a quaking bog, a menace to any living 
 thing that should set foot upon it. With Castle Angry 
 went all Sir Rupert's gold, the immense price which he 
 had received long ago from the English company for the 
 mines, of which he had robbed us Brandons. I, for one, 
 did not grudge the evil gold to the bog. 
 
 And so Harry De Lacy entered into his patrimony a 
 modest one now of Angry Mountain and a score of rack- 
 rented farms. 
 
 " We shall be as poor as church mice," said Esther with 
 dancing eyes, and red roses of happiness blown into her 
 cheeks, " but for all that we shall make the people forget 
 that once they hated our name." 
 
 She was not a Brandon to be afraid of poverty, though 
 her estate would be wealth compared with what we had 
 known all our days. Harry De Lacy was growing 
 stronger every day, and the air of beauty and race which 
 he had worn when first we saw him was coming back to 
 him now. As Mrs. O'Flaherty said, they would be the 
 handsomest couple ever seen in our countryside, "and 
 that," added the good woman, " meaning no disrespect to 
 the handsome Brandons." 
 
 They were to be married on the threshold of Lent, and 
 to have their honeymoon in Paris, where, after a little 
 interval, Lady O'Brien, with her faithful Martha, would 
 join them for the Easter in Rome. It was a lovely mild 
 February, with the snowdrops in snowdrifts under the 
 trees in Brandon woods and primroses in sheltered places
 
 356 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 with troops of celandines, violets, and marsh marigolds. 
 Esther was not to have a flowerless wedding. 
 
 It was wonderful how Harry De Lacy recovered under 
 the influence of happiness. The shock of the manner of 
 his grandfather's death was but a passing one, and with 
 his marriage waiting upon his convalescence it was 
 wonderful what strides he made towards recovery. Dr. 
 Rivers' pride and pleasure in his patient's progress lifted 
 up our hearts, who had been anxious about Harry De 
 Lacy's ultimate recovery. 
 
 " He has a constitution," the doctor pronounced, " and 
 rare recuperative powers. I should never have dared to 
 hope for so rapid a recovery." 
 
 So, after all, thank God, Esther was not to have a 
 delicate husband, with the martyrdom of fear which that 
 would have meant to her. 
 
 It was only long afterwards that Esther gathered bit 
 by bit, and told me, something of the circumstances of 
 Harry De Lacy's imprisonment, for imprisonment it had 
 been, till he was so weak that his bonds might safely be 
 relaxed. He had been ill before that day when Lady 
 O'Brien had sent for Sir Rupert. After that he found 
 himself a prisoner, with Gaskin for his jailer; and the 
 wretch hated him since his chastisement for his cruelty 
 to the dogs. 
 
 For many weeks Harry had lain, as he thought, slowly 
 dying and half-delirious from want of proper food and 
 care. In those weeks he was conscious, like one in a 
 dream, of Gaskin's malevolent visage as he flung him 
 food and drink twice a day. It might be years, he said, 
 during which he had watched the short winter daylight
 
 WEDDING-BELLS 357 
 
 creep up the walls and linger and vanish, and had 
 endured the feverish torments of the night. 
 
 Once he had thought he heard voices beside his bed. 
 
 " Tis only to loosen a plank 'idout on the lobby," said 
 one, " an' lave the door open, an' before he knows where 
 he is he'll be on the stones o' the hall below." 
 
 The speech was followed by a crackling laugh, and 
 the speaker rubbed his hands in glee. 
 
 Then another voice, harsh and deep, answered: 
 
 " No tricks, Gaskin, or by heavens, man, I'll tie you up 
 like a dog in a sack and fling you to the hounds. Venom 
 would make short work of your bones." 
 
 Then the other voice answered surlily: 
 
 " 'Tis all the wan thing, only quicker, as lavin' him die 
 in his bed." 
 
 "And who said he was to die, you scoundrel? If he 
 dies through any fault of yours, so much the worse for 
 you!" growled the other voice. 
 
 And then the speakers drifted off into the phantasma- 
 goria of dreams and terrors which were the background 
 of the sick man's life. 
 
 After that he conceived a resolution to save himself. 
 Instead of rejecting the food that was brought him he 
 forced himself to eat, and while feigning unconsciousness 
 or sleep when Gaskin came with the food, he held himself 
 in readiness to guard his life, so far as his feeble strength 
 would allow, if it were threatened, and watched for an 
 opportunity to deliver himself out of the hands of his 
 would-be murderer. In time Gaskin relaxed his guard 
 of the door, believing his prisoner past helping himself, 
 and this was Harry's opportunity.
 
 358 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 He had followed Gaskin one night, and listened to him 
 and Sir Rupert talking over their whisky. From their 
 talk he gathered that they would be at a distance on a 
 certain day that day of January on which, indeed, we 
 effected his rescue. But for the happy accident of 
 Johnny O'Flaherty's venturous approach to Castle Angry 
 he would have made the attempt to escape unaided, 
 and would probably have died under the rains if he had 
 not been recaptured. 
 
 It comforted him to think in those days that his grand- 
 father had stood between him and death, for he was sure 
 that it was only Gaskin's fear of Sir Rupert had held 
 his hand from murder. To me it seemed but a small 
 compunction in the wicked old man, and I could not help 
 believing it a part of his pride that found it insufferable 
 for a worm like Gaskin to lift its head against one of his 
 blood. If Harry had died in his bed at Castle Angry it 
 seemed to me that it would have been murder, just as 
 much as if he had crashed through the upper floor, as 
 Gaskin had wished it, on to the flags of the hall. But 
 the quality of gentleness which Harry De Lacy must 
 have inherited from his other saintly old grandfather, 
 and which, I know now, implies no lack of courage and 
 true manliness, makes it easy to him to forgive Sir 
 Rupert, and even to regret him a little after all. 
 
 They were married very quietly one morning by Mr. 
 Benson, in our old parish church. Esther had wanted to 
 wear her travelling dress, but Lady O'Brien would not 
 have it. 
 
 " You will be the handsomest bride in this part of the 
 country," she said, "since I stood up with poor Peter.
 
 WEDDING-BELLS. 359 
 
 Hilda there won't be a patch on you, meaning no dis- 
 respect to her. And you sha'n't be defrauded of your 
 bridal glories. 'Twould be a shame to me for ever if I 
 let you." 
 
 So Esther had white poplin, with a train of white 
 velvet, and the poplin delightfully sprigged with silver 
 shamrocks. And I, the solitary bridesmaid, had also my 
 frock from Paris, a creamy embroidered muslin trimmed 
 with lace, which looked the embodiment of simplicity, 
 but I am sure cost a very pretty penny for all that. It 
 was Lady O'Brien's gift, and I cried out when she gave 
 it to me that I would keep it against my wedding, but 
 she said no, that I should have a wedding-dress of my 
 own, and that she was to give it to me. 
 
 " What," said she, " are you to give my daughter Esther 
 rubies, and a minx like you be too proud to accept from 
 an old woman a tuppenny-ha'penny silk frock." 
 
 So I laughed and said I wasn't a minx, and would try 
 to swallow the frock. 
 
 Lance and I were to be married at Whitsuntide. I 
 would not have it earlier, because I could not bear that 
 we should all hurry away from Aline. He grumbled a 
 good deal because I would not fix the same day as Esther's 
 for our wedding, which most auspiciously was Valentine's 
 Day, and after he had seen me in my bridesmaid's frock 
 he was more unwilling to wait than ever. 
 
 Still, as I put it to him, since we saw each other every 
 day, and as he and the General were so busy over those 
 mysterious preparations at Rose Hill, into which I was 
 never allowed to pry, the time would pass quickly enough. 
 And it really did. We were going to have husband-
 
 360 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 and-wife days all our life, and I wanted my share of 
 " lovering " days like any other girl, and so I had them 
 in spite of my grumbling lover. 
 
 I wish I could tell you something of the state of felicity 
 in which the General spent those days. I should have 
 thought Rose Hill lovely enough for anybody, but the 
 General said that when he was fitting it up only last 
 autumn he had never thought of such a person as a 
 bride, and it seemed there was a lot to be done for a bride. 
 
 I used not to know whether to laugh or cry over the 
 General's diplomacy in those days. I was supposed to 
 be in the dark entirely about the suite of rooms which 
 was being prepared for me, but really I knew beforehand 
 almost everything they would contain. The General's 
 way of finding out my tastes was to describe minutely 
 a wall-paper, a chintz, a carpet, or a piece of furniture, 
 and ask me if I thought such a thing would " please a 
 lady". His craft would not have imposed on Paudeen; 
 but for all that those rooms were going to be a tre- 
 mendous surprise to me. 
 
 I was always wondering in those days indeed I won- 
 der still what those two men could see in me to be so 
 absorbed in and delighted over. Esther's beauty now, 
 or Aline's goodness, I could understand exciting such 
 enthusiasm, but Hilda! Ah, well, it is a great thing 
 that people have such tender delusions about us; and 
 surely no one could have loved better than I. My love 
 was adequate if nothing else was, and that was the 
 thought that used to comfort me. 
 
 The time really flew round till it was May, and within 
 a week or two of our marriage. Whitsuntide fell in
 
 WEDDING-BELLS. 361 
 
 May, and though people say it is an unlucky month for 
 a marriage, I was not daunted. As I said to Lance, I 
 was more afraid of keeping him waiting longer than of 
 the ill-luck, to which he replied that if I suggested a 
 further postponement he'd be obliged to abduct me. 
 
 Early in May our bride and bridegroom came home. 
 Lady O'Brien and Martha had preceded them by about a 
 fortnight, and had been very busy with preparations, for 
 they were to live at Annagower. Harry De Lacy was 
 going to farm a large slice of land about Angry. Poor 
 land that even our peasant makers-of-land would despair 
 of, but he was full of theories and full of hope, and it 
 was pleasant to see him beginning his new life with such 
 energy, and Esther's boundless faith in him. After all, 
 their poverty proved to be quite relative, because between 
 them they possessed an income of nearly a thousand a 
 year, which is affluence in our quiet country, whatever 
 it might be in London. Lady O'Brien had treated Esther 
 exactly like a daughter, saying that she preferred to 
 ensure her future against an old woman's whims. 
 
 "For who knows," she said in her whimsical way, 
 " but I might forget Peter after all those years, and go 
 off and marry some fellow, and make a fool of myself 
 over him." 
 
 In this season of regeneration, a full share or new 
 
 o * 
 
 brightness had come to our dear old friend. Her rheu- 
 matism she said she had danced off at Essie's wedding, 
 and when one of the literal twins gravely remarked that 
 there had been no dancing, Lady O'Brien answered her 
 that it was only because she had not had eyes to see. 
 Meanwhile I had been getting ready my very modest
 
 362 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 trousseau. Aline had found a little hoard somewhere 
 for that, and as we live in the centre of a sewing industry, 
 my things were fine and delicate as heart could desire. 
 My frocks were few but pretty, and I was satisfied with 
 them, though I knew that Lance's fingers were tingling 
 against the day when he should bestow on me Parisian 
 gowns and bonnets. I told him I wouldn't repay fine 
 dressing, that it would but accentuate my insignificance, 
 at which he would smile darkly. 
 
 My wedding gown only arrived from Annagower the 
 evening before my wedding, and when it had been carried 
 up to my bedroom, and Martha, who was in charge, spread 
 its glories upon the bed, there it was, to my amazement, 
 a replica of Esther's splendour. Accompanying it was a 
 veil, shoes and gloves, and a tiny wreath of orange 
 blossoms. There was no full-dress rehearsal. Martha 
 was to stay the night in order to assist at my toilette in 
 the morning, lest anything should require readjusting. 
 And though I was brave enough to marry in May, I did 
 not see the good of doubly defying the superstitious by 
 trying on my wedding dress beforehand. 
 
 No bride ever had so many dressers before. I am sure 
 the business-like Martha was rather irritated by having 
 so many eager assistants, though she was too admirable 
 to betray it. All my sisters, except Freda, were about 
 me, and Lady O'Brien was sitting in state downstairs, 
 while the boys waited in the corridor, getting in the way 
 of the twins, who were darting up and down incessantly 
 on all manner of unnecessary messages. 
 
 When I was quite dressed, even to the General's dia- 
 mond star, and Aline's pearl brooch, to say nothing of
 
 WEDDING-BELLS. 363 
 
 my bridegroom's two splendid bracelets, Esther stepped 
 forward, and, kissing me, clasped about my neck a lovely 
 string of pearls with a diamond clasp. I recognized 
 them as those her godmother had given her the night 
 of her first ball, and cried out in protest, but she laughed 
 and kissed me, saying they would become me better 
 than her, for whom rubies of all things were the very gems. 
 
 So Lance did not see my splendour till we met at the 
 altar. 
 
 Of course he was delighted, but then he is always de- 
 lighted, and I am not sure that he doesn't like me better 
 in the old frock in which he first found me seated on 
 the steps in Rose Hill library; or in a pink gingham, 
 which reminds him, he says, of me lying all crumpled up 
 in the ditch the day of Annagassan Races. 
 
 One of my thoughts when I stood at the altar was 
 whether Pierce in heaven knew of my happiness, and 
 rejoiced in it, but I am sure he did. I said so to Aline 
 afterwards, when I was alone with her for a minute, and 
 she kissed me closely, and said she was sure he knew, 
 and then she said sweetly that she was so happy in the 
 two dear new brothers we had given her. 
 
 So, if I had tears in my eyes as our carriage drove off, 
 as Lance said I had, they were tears of pure happiness 
 and thanksgiving. 
 
 Oona always said that if Heaven meant a girl to be 
 married, the husband would find her, though she were 
 hidden in a bandbox. And here were we two girls ful- 
 filling that wise saying of hers, and marrying the dearest 
 of husbands after living the life of nuns. I said some- 
 thing of this to Oona, and she was well pleased.
 
 364 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " You couldn't have done better, Miss Hilda," she said, 
 "nor yet Miss Esther. The people do be saying they 
 couldn't pick between your gentlemen, for though Sir 
 Harry is as handsome as a picture, the Captain's that big 
 an' strong an' kind-looking." 
 
 So everybody seemed to smile upon our happiness. 
 
 ?
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 ONCE AND FOR EVER. 
 
 FREDA had not been able to come to our wedding, to 
 my grief. She had now been six months with Mrs. 
 Des VCEUX in Devonshire, and seemed at last to have 
 found quiet happiness. She wrote to us that the old 
 blind lady treated her more like a daughter than a de- 
 pendant, and if she did not come to our wedding it was 
 because she could not bear to leave her in her darkness, 
 even for a little while. 
 
 So after Lance and I had been three weeks at Kil- 
 larney, which is, I am sure, the most beautiful place on 
 earth, I acquiesced cheerfully when he suggested that 
 we should cross to England from Cork, and wander about 
 Cornwall and Devonshire for the remaining weeks of 
 our honeymoon. 
 
 "Oh, yes!" I said, "and we shall see Freda, shall we 
 not? I have wished it of all things." 
 
 For somehow I had felt sad about Freda being outside 
 our happiness during those momentous times at Brandon. 
 
 "As you will, my sweetheart," Lance had said, as he 
 would have said, I believe, to any proposal of mine that 
 did not involve our separation. 
 
 I wrote to Freda to tell her of our plans, and by return
 
 366 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 of post I had a letter from her so full of delight, that I 
 felt how her distanqe from us all must have hurt her 
 during those years. She wrote: 
 
 It is the most ideal arrangement, for Mary Vincent 
 and Jacky are to be here in June. But as for going to 
 an inn, no such thing. There is a little summer cottage 
 attached to this house, and just hidden in the combe be- 
 yond the garden - hedge. Mrs. Des Vcsux has invited 
 Mary and my boy to spend the summer there, and when 
 she heard of you, she begged me to ask if you two would 
 make use of it Mary will take care of you both you 
 know how admirable a housekeeper she is, and she is the 
 soul of discretion. Let me know when you will come. I 
 am longing to see you and to meet my new brother. 
 
 We arrived at Wyncombe one lovely June afternoon 
 and found our cottage a very delicious place. It was 
 built of wood with a verandah running around it, and the 
 whole hidden in creepers. The little valley was wooded 
 to the top, and in front of the cottage door ran a little 
 brown stream which might have been one of our trout 
 streams at home. There was a small boy of a very 
 martial aspect standing a-straddle in the trellised porch 
 when we arrived, with an unhappy-looking fat puppy 
 pressed tightly to his breast. 
 
 " Hello!" he hailed ua " Where is Old Soldier? This 
 is a soldier dog, Moustache is his name. He has to learn 
 to shoulder arms, but he always rolls over." 
 
 " Old Soldier didn't come this time, Jacky," said I.
 
 ONCE AND FOR EVER. 367 
 
 " You are to come to see him in Ireland. But this is his 
 son, who is also a soldier." 
 
 " He has got no medals," said Jacky, as he shook hands 
 gravely. " Are you greedy at your dinner, or will you 
 not have your hands washed?" 
 
 From this speech I learned that Jacky had been in- 
 subordinate, and had perhaps lost a stripe or two since 
 coming to Wyncombe. 
 
 Half the cottage was allotted to us, and I discovered 
 very soon that so excellent was Mrs. Vincent's discipline 
 that even Master Jacky respected our frontier, and was 
 only in evidence when desired admirable small boy! 
 However, Lance capitulated to Jacky the minute he saw 
 him, so I expected to have him tolerably often in evi- 
 dence. 
 
 Freda came over to dinner in a pretty black gauze 
 dinner-gown, and looked very fair and sweet and comely. 
 She brought a message from Mrs. Des Voeux that she 
 thought we would be happier together this one evening, 
 but that she hoped we would come over and dine the 
 next day, and excuse her not calling first. 
 
 My sister was delightfully changed for the better. 
 She seemed brimming over with quiet happiness, and I 
 could not wonder. After her hard and disillusioning 
 experiences of the world, after the stony streets of 
 London, it must have been indeed delicious to be in this 
 quiet place, surrounded by everything that kindness and 
 consideration could give. 
 
 After dinner we sat in the verandah and talked. 
 Lance romped on the grass with Jacky and Moustache, 
 who seemed a very jolly little puppy when he wasn't
 
 368 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 half stifled by his master's loving embraces. However, 
 as Freda said, a dog will stand a good deal done in the 
 way of love. Mrs. Vincent had gone over to keep Mrs. 
 Des Voeux company, so we had a long quiet comfortable 
 chat, lounging in our rocking-chairs, and with nothing to 
 disturb us but the singing of the birds and the shrill 
 laughter of Freda's boy. 
 
 I had a long story to tell her, the details of all that 
 had been happening to us at Brandon. Then when I 
 had done, I had to hear all about her since she came 
 to Wyncombe. 
 
 "When you see Mrs. Des Voeux," she said, "you will 
 know what an an^el she is. She has it written in her 
 
 o 
 
 dear face. She has had such sorrows, Hilda, but they 
 have only made her more heavenly. It is a privilege to 
 be with her, and though she takes occasion many times 
 in the day to send me out, for she is obliged to sit in a 
 darkened room, she is not altogether blind, you know, 
 yet I always come back into the shadows with joy. I 
 have nothing to do but read to and write for her; she 
 has many friends, out in the world, as she says, who are 
 always needing her counsel and comfort. Yes, and I 
 
 have to gather her roses, as Lady A said. Wait till 
 
 you see our roses, Hilda. You will be out of conceit 
 with Rose Hill." 
 
 "Never!" I cried. 
 
 "Ah, well!" she laughed, "I suppose immortal roses 
 have grown there for you." 
 
 Then she told me how Mrs. Des Vceux's only son had 
 died in India. 
 
 " Her grief," she went on, " has made her profoundly
 
 ONCE AND FOR EVER. 369 
 
 tender and sympathetic to all mothers. She wanted me 
 to have Jacky under the same roof with me, but I was 
 afraid his high spirits might oppress her sometimes. 
 Still, she loves to have him with her now and again, and 
 he behaves sweetly to her; and would you believe it, 
 Hilda, she has offered me the cottage for him and Mary 
 to make their home there? She put it so delicately, that 
 they would keep up the place and save it from going to 
 pieces with damp during the winter. I shall be the 
 happiest woman on earth. Think of this place for Jacky 
 after Parson's Green!" 
 
 " You accepted, of course?" 
 
 " I cried with joy. She only suggested it this evening 
 before I came over, and I was already so full of joy at 
 the prospect of seeing you. ' Ask your friend Mrs. Vin- 
 cent, my dear,' she said in her humble way, ' if she will 
 do me this great favour.' And I just took up her dear 
 old hands and kissed them, and said, ' You shall ask her 
 yourself when she comes this evening, and see what she 
 will say.'" 
 
 " She will like it, Freda?" 
 
 "Like it!" cried Freda. "It is what we have dreamt 
 of for our old age! We used to plan that when Jacky 
 was grown up and a successful man, he would make just 
 such provision for us two old ladies. But that it should 
 come while Jacky was still a little boy and dependent on 
 us, with years of his childhood still to come, we never 
 dreamt of such happiness as that." 
 
 "You poor dear!" said I, "the Hazeldines ought to 
 have done that for you. It would not have cost them 
 much." 
 
 (M4S6) 2 A
 
 370 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 "Oh, that reminds me!" said Freda. "Since I came 
 here Lady Hazeldine heard from a friend of Mrs. Des 
 Voeux of me and what I was doing. She wrote me, for 
 her, a really humble letter, saying how shocked she 
 and Sir John had been to learn that their son's widow 
 had had to earn her bread and her child's. She implored 
 me to forgive anything that had occurred between us, 
 and to come to them to live with them, or to make 
 arrangements to live independently as I would. Poor 
 woman, when I read the letter all resentment faded out 
 of my heart. 
 
 " I explained that I couldn't leave Mrs. Des Voeux just 
 at present, but it was love which kept me, not servitude. 
 I said I was happier in my working life, and did not feel 
 now that I should care to give it up, but said I would 
 come whenever Mrs. Des Voeux could spare me. I am 
 going to them in the autumn for a while with Jacky, 
 while Mary takes my place with Mrs. Des Voeux. I am 
 very glad to be at peace with Jim's people. The differ- 
 ence between us has hurt me all those years." 
 
 " They will be delighted with Jacky," I said. 
 
 " Lady Hazeldine has seen him. She drove down to 
 Parson's Green as soon as she heard where he was, 
 making, I've no doubt, a fine sensation for Grove Avenue 
 with her carriage and pair. She cried over Jacky, poor 
 woman, and he, ungrateful monkey, just wriggled out of 
 her embrace. 'You aren't my grandmother,' he said flatly. 
 'I've a mother and a Gran, (that's what he calls Mary 
 when he doesn't call her by her Christian name) and lots 
 of aunties, but I've no grandmother.' Poor Mary was 
 horrified, and tried to persuade him of the relationship,
 
 ONCE AND FOR EVER. 371 
 
 but he stuck to his own opinion. 'If you were my 
 grandmother,' he said, ' you'd have taken me for a ride 
 in that carriage long ago.' The poor woman felt it 
 acutely. She wrote and told me about it. Tour boy 
 was right, Freda, she wrote, that is the sting of it. But 
 for Jim's sake you will teach him to love and forgive 
 'me." 
 
 "Oh, poor woman," vSaid I, "I am sorry for her!" 
 
 " So am I," said Freda, " but Jacky is terribly uncom- 
 promising. And how strange it is that the Hazeldines' 
 good-will comes to me now that I am independent of it! 
 Last year, or the year before, it would have meant 
 deliverance." 
 
 The next evening we went over to the Court to dine. 
 It was a delightful house in the midst of rose gardens, 
 and when we had gone into the shaded drawing-room, 
 we found roses everywhere, in bowls and vases and 
 baskets, so that the room was as sweet as the sunny 
 garden. In the midst of all the sweetness sat the dear 
 white-haired old lady, with her thin hands in the lap of 
 her black silk gown, and her figure wearing the ineffable 
 look of patience that comes to the blind. Freda intro- 
 duced us, and then the dear old lady made me sit beside 
 her, and held my hand and patted it. 
 
 " I can't make out your face, my dear," she said, " but 
 I always think I can imagine what people are like from 
 touching them. Even your hands tell me you are fair 
 and soft and sweet like your dear sister, who has done 
 so much to brighten my life since she came." 
 
 Then she held Lance's hand a minute and congratulated 
 us so sweetly on our happiness, and read us a little homily
 
 372 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 on the married life, to which we both listened as reverently 
 as if we were in church. 
 
 Jacky, who had been specially invited, arrived just then 
 looking very spruce. He came in with the most sedate 
 little air imaginable, and getting round to Mrs. Des 
 Voeux's side, bent down and kissed her hand. 
 
 " You dear boy," she said, putting her hand on his curls, 
 "where did you learn your pretty, pretty ways?" 
 
 " It is Jacky 's way of expressing affection," said Freda 
 proudly, " and no one taught him. It just came to him 
 untaught." 
 
 Beyond the shaded drawing-room we saw the dining- 
 table through an arch with looped-up curtains. Candles 
 with green shades were lit among the profusion of roses, 
 though it was still broad sunlight. 
 
 " You won't mind, my dears," said the old lady, " my 
 not dining with you. I can't stand the light nor con- 
 demn others to darkness, so I have a little wheeled table 
 brought in here with my dinner." 
 
 Just then a tall dark gentleman stepped in by the 
 French window, as if he were very much at home. 
 
 "Hello, Trefusis!" cried Jacky, from where he was 
 squatted on the ground by Mrs. Des Voeux. 
 
 "Is that you, John, my dear?" said Mrs. Des Voeux, as 
 he came up to her chair. 
 
 Then she introduced him to us as " Our squire and 
 neighbour, Mr. Trefusis." 
 
 I was rather surprised, for Freda hadn't said a word 
 of this neighbour, who was evidently very much at home 
 in the house. 
 
 Mr. Trefusis dined with us, and we found him ex-
 
 ONCE AND FOR EVER. 373 
 
 tremely pleasant. He was a grave, thoughtful-looking 
 man, with melancholy eyes. Freda told us afterwards 
 that he had lost his wife in the first year of their marriage, 
 and had since spent a life absorbed in study and reading. 
 
 " He is much younger than he looks," she added. 
 
 I could quite believe that, if it were only because of 
 the terms of camaraderie on which he was with Jacky. 
 Jacky, indeed, treated him precisely as if they were of 
 an age, and it was delightful to see them playing cricket 
 together Jacky about the height of his bat, and the 
 two as grave as possible. 
 
 I said one day to Mrs. Des Vceux how much we liked 
 Mr. Trefusis. 
 
 " John Trefusis is a good man, my dear," she said, " a 
 good man, and one can't go beyond that. He has suffered 
 a great deal, but I pray there may be happiness in store 
 for him yet." 
 
 That first opened my eyes to the fact that Mr. Trefusis 
 was in love with my sister. Indeed it was patent enough 
 once we had the clue. But Freda that was quite an- 
 other matter. That she knew I could not doubt, from 
 the little half-vexed consciousness she betrayed once or 
 twice under his regard, but of love I could find no slightest 
 sign. 
 
 One day Freda and I were together, and Freda's son 
 was delivering his mind on many matters, as was his 
 way when his commanding-officer was not present. 
 
 " Aunty Hilda," said he to me suddenly, " have you 
 long, beautiful hair like mother's? And would you mind 
 very much if I were playing with you and pulled it all 
 down?"
 
 374: THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " Of course she would mind," said Freda. " No lady 
 likes to have a rowdy little boy like you pulling her all 
 to pieces." 
 
 "'Cept you," said Jacky; "but then, of course, you're 
 not a lady, you're only mother. You remember that day 
 I had pulled down all your hair when Trefusis came in." 
 
 "Jacky!" said Freda, with a little blush of annoyance, 
 " you are talking too much, and you know you must say 
 Mr. Trefusis. I am always telling you so." 
 
 " I sha'n't," said Jacky flatly. " He calls me ' Shaver ', 
 and I call him Trefusis. We understand each other." 
 
 Freda's eyes twinkled. She was used to Jacky's in- 
 subordination with her, and I'm afraid rather condoned it. 
 
 "Well," said Jacky, embarking on his tale, "mother 
 and I was playing at bears in the hall one wet morning. 
 'Cause it was so wet we didn't think anyone would come. 
 Mother was going round on the floor growling, with all 
 her hair down. I'd pulled it down in the bear's hug, and 
 she wanted to put it up, but I said to her, ' I say, you 
 leave it down 'cause I think it pretty ', and so she left it." 
 
 " Oh, Jacky, Jacky, you silly boy !" cried Freda laughing. 
 
 " Well, all of a sudden I looked up," said Jacky, " and 
 there was Trefusis in the doorway. 'Hello, Trefusis!' 
 said I. But instead of saying 'Hello, Shaver!' he never 
 said a word, but stood staring at mother. I s'pose he 
 couldn't see her because her hair was all over her, or else 
 he was 'mazed at her for playing bears. Then mother 
 got up and just twisted her hair round anyway, and went 
 out of the room, and didn't come back for a long time. 
 And Trefusis stood staring at the door, till at last he 
 'membered me, and looked at me and said, ' Hello, Shaver!'
 
 ONCE AND FOE EVER. 375 
 
 though it was quite hours since I'd said to him ' Hello, 
 Trefusis!"' 
 
 "Jacky, Jacky!" cried Freda, "here comes Gran, and 
 not a minute too soon. Do you think your Aunty Hilda 
 wants to be bored by an egotistical little boy like you?" 
 
 Jacky was carried off incontinently to have a fresh 
 toilet made his toilet seemed always in need of readjust- 
 ment and after he had gone I turned and looked at 
 Freda. 
 
 She looked back at me steadily, and again the wounded 
 and angry flush, which I had seen once before, rose in 
 her cheeks. Her foot tapped the ground impatiently. 
 
 " It would be a good thing for Jacky," I said wistfully, 
 for I liked Mr. Trefusis. 
 
 "Never, Hilda, never!" said Freda. "How can you 
 think of it, loving your husband as you do ? The Hazel 
 dines will take care of Jacky, but if they did not, I could 
 still refuse him such a sacrifice as that. I will meet Jim 
 with my marriage vow to him unbroken." 
 
 The tears flashed in her eyes as I bent to kiss her. 
 
 Poor Mr. Trefusis!
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE KESTORATION OF BRANDON. 
 
 AFTER all, who do you think it was of all the Bran- 
 dons that brought the fortune back to Brandon? 
 You would never guess. Well, it was Aline, and now I 
 will tell you how that came about. 
 
 During the months that elapsed between my marriage 
 and the autumn when Mr. Desmond was expected to 
 revisit the "old country", Hugh and Donald worked 
 quietly but indefatigably to fit themselves for anything 
 that might turn up in the life of a new continent. They 
 were already expert riders, and could handle a gun, as 
 they could an oar, with absolute dexterity. They had 
 grown to be big, sunburnt, handsome lads in their free 
 and wholesome life, and never knew an ache or a pain, 
 so they were made of the fine raw stuff of pioneers. But 
 in the last months, acting on my Lance's advice, they set 
 themselves to learn the rough-and-ready rudiments of 
 the simpler trades, to shoe a horse with Teddy Murphy 
 at the forge, to cobble a shoe or mend a joint in a horse's 
 harness with Farrell the brogue-maker and Byrne the 
 harness-maker, and many such useful arts. 
 
 They were full of the joy of the new life that was
 
 THE RESTORATION OF BRANDON. 377 
 
 coming to them, scenting the battle of the world far off like 
 the horse in the Scriptures, and yet preparing for it with 
 a gravity and responsibility which came of their deep- 
 rooted conviction that they were going to redeem Bran- 
 don. They had time now to make their own and their 
 family's fortunes, now that the gray old wolf was no 
 longer at Castle Angry waiting upon our need. 
 
 "If Sir Rupert had lived," Hugh said to me once, 
 " one or other of us must have stayed to watch him, but 
 now we shall go with minds at rest." 
 
 Poor Aline watched their quiet preparations with un- 
 protesting pain. In her heart I think she was proud 
 that they had asserted their manhood, though that heart 
 bled all the time with fear of how that dragon, the 
 world, might overcome them. We were always trying 
 to console her, pointing out to her how this and that 
 mother's son went and conquered and returned in safety. 
 
 "Ah!" she would say, "is it easier for me because 
 other women suffer? I shall be glad when they return, 
 but let me have my grief now that they must go." 
 
 Then the time came when we heard that Mr. Desmond 
 had come back, and was staying in the Brandon Arms, 
 as he had done six years ago before he took away our 
 Pierce. And when we heard he was there Lance sug- 
 gested that we should go and call on him and ask him 
 to take up his quarters at Rose Hill, seeing that he had 
 been Pierce's friend. Lance was keen also to see the 
 man of whom he had heard so much, whose qualities 
 of all others were those that appealed to him. 
 
 But when we arrived at the rough little place they 
 call the Brandon Arms we found that Mr. Desmond had
 
 378 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 gone out. As we turned away rather disappointed, the 
 landlady, Mrs. Fahy, came hurrying after us. 
 
 "I think, ma'am," she said, "that Mr. Desmond may 
 have gone to Brandon, for there was a boy here with a 
 bit of a note from Miss Brandon herself in the morning, 
 and when Mr. Desmond came in and read it he just 
 ordered his chop and immediately after went out again. 
 I shouldn't be surprised now if you were picking him up, 
 if so be you took it into your head to walk towards 
 Brandon." 
 
 "Oh, thank you, Mrs. Fahy," said I, "I think we 
 shall." 
 
 And, sure enough, when we went into the drawing- 
 room at Brandon there was the man himself sitting 
 astride a spindle-legged chair, and talking earnestly with 
 Aline. 
 
 They made a curious contrast, he with his big frame 
 and rugged face, his great hands, with their look of grasp, 
 resting on his knees, and his rough colonist's clothes, and 
 she so fair and dainty and refined, with her almost old- 
 world dignity. She was wearing a tea-gown which had 
 been easily adapted from our great-grandmother's ward- 
 robe, a brocade of the colour the French call ashes of 
 roses, a queer, elegant, faded thing, with old lace at the 
 neck and wrists. I saw at once that Aline had made a 
 toilette for Mr. Desmond, and guessed at her tender 
 reason. She did him so much honour in the hope that 
 he would more surely be a friend to her boya 
 
 As we came through the ante-room unannounced Mr. 
 Desmond was speaking, and I signed to Lance not to 
 disturb him till he had finished.
 
 M436 
 
 "I CAN ONLY SAY, MISS BRANDON, THAT I LOVED THE LAD 
 LIKE A SON."
 
 THE RESTORATION OF BRANDON. 379 
 
 "I can only say, Miss Brandon, that I loved the lad 
 like a son, and would have saved him from pain and 
 trouble just as if he had been my son. But I have had 
 a rough life, and did not know how to manage a lad 
 like him when it came to a delicate matter. I can only 
 say what a deep grief it has been to me." 
 
 " Oh, no, no!" said Aline with her handkerchief at her 
 eyes. "He said that no one could have been more 
 patient, more wise, and tender with him than you were. 
 I can never thank you enough." 
 
 " I wish to Heaven I could have saved him," the man 
 answered in his deep and musical voice. 
 
 Then we went in, and Aline introduced us to Mr. 
 Desmond. He and Lance fraternized at once, if one can 
 talk of fraternizing in a case like this, where my husband 
 sat and looked at the elder man with a boyish expression 
 of hero-worship on his face, and listened with such 
 deference. 
 
 There was a curious nobility and simplicity about the 
 man. Whatever his successes had been in the world, it 
 was easy to see that they had not been obtained by craft 
 and guile or by trampling on weaker men. Seeing that 
 we were interested in what he had to tell he talked with 
 simple unconsciousness fully and freely. 
 
 " Yes," he said in answer to Lance, " it is lonely to 
 come back. There are nettles growing round the hearth- 
 stone of the little cabin where I was born, and the last of 
 my kin is laid to rest long ago in Brandon Abbey. Still, 
 the mountains and the woods are the same; it is the 
 same country. I sat to-day for a long time on the stile 
 where I used to sit when I fetched the water from the
 
 380 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 well for my mother, and I remembered how, the day I 
 was leaving her, she ran after me to the stile to kiss me 
 again, for the last time it proved. Yes, it is lonely to 
 come back, but the old memories are sweet too." 
 
 He said nothing at all of what we knew, how his wise 
 and generous benefactions had made many a one rejoice 
 at his coming back. 
 
 After a time Lance told him how we had looked for 
 him at the Brandon Arms with the hope that he would 
 come and stay with us at Rose Hill, but he declined, 
 although very cordially. 
 
 " I never know when the fit will take me," he said 
 laughing, " to roam about, and I should hopelessly disor- 
 ganize your hours and your servants' ways. Besides, 
 my old school-fellow, Mary Fahy, would take it as a 
 slight upon her place if I were to desert her. Let me 
 instead come in of evenings to smoke a pipe when I like, 
 may I? May I, Mrs. MacNeill?" 
 
 " Indeed you may," said I. 
 
 Just then the boys came in, full of repressed excite- 
 ment. They shook hands with Mr. Desmond, and then 
 retired into a distant corner, where they sat and glowered 
 at their great man, in whose hands, although he did not 
 yet know it, their fate lay. But he seemed almost as 
 much interested in them as they were in him. His keen 
 eyes followed them into their obscurity. 
 
 "Those great fellows," he said to Aline, "they were 
 little lads when I was here before. Yet they were ready 
 to follow me into the wilderness." 
 
 For a minute the silence was electrical. Then one or 
 other of the boys broke silence.
 
 THE RESTORATION OF BRANDON. 381 
 
 " We are ready to follow you now." 
 
 Mr. Desmond stood up slowly, revealing his great 
 height. 
 
 " What, still of the same mind?" he said. " Come over 
 here till I look at you." 
 
 The boys came out of their corner and stood before 
 him side by side, their eyes bright with excitement. The 
 thing had come about much sooner than we expected, 
 and as I turned to look at Aline I saw that her head 
 was drooping, and her fingers plucked nervously at the 
 lace of her gown. 
 
 Mr. Desmond looked at the boys a minute or two, and 
 they looked back at him. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " I remember. You wanted to come 
 with me, and I said that I had room for men, and that 
 when you were men, if you were still of the same mind, 
 I would find room for you." 
 
 " And now we are men," said Hugh, " and we are still 
 of the same mind." 
 
 " We have been learning smith-work, and mason- work, 
 
 ~ * 
 
 and carpentry, and other things that we thought might 
 be useful to us when you had found room for us," said 
 Donald, " and we are ready to go." 
 
 "What, both?" said Mr. Desmond, and then he turned 
 to Aline. " You would trust them to me, Miss Brandon?" 
 
 "Yes," said Aline in a low voice, "I have told them 
 they might go if you would have them." 
 
 " Thank you!" he said, and his voice was full of feeling. 
 We knew he felt that she had trusted him with Pierce, 
 and Pierce had come home only to die, and now she 
 trusted him with those two.
 
 382 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 " Thank you!" he said again. " God helping me, I will 
 fulfil your -trust." 
 
 After that we saw a great deal of Mr. Desmond, and 
 he was often at Brandon. There were naturally many 
 arrangements to be made about the boys, and Aline con- 
 fessed to me that Mr. Desmond's affection for Pierce and 
 grief for his death had brought the silent strong man of 
 the people closer into her friendship than perhaps any 
 man had ever penetrated before. 
 
 He was to leave in October, and the boys' simple out- 
 fits were ready, and we had begun to dread the coming 
 parting, for Aline more than for ourselves. It was no 
 unusual thing now to find Mr. Desmond at Brandon 
 when we went over of an afternoon, so that when we 
 went in one of those last evenings, and saw him standing 
 by the mantel-piece looking down at Aline's bent head, 
 and Aline visibly agitated, we felt no surprise. The air 
 was surcharged with emotion just then. 
 
 We sat down, and made some ordinary remarks, and 
 then I asked if it had been settled about the date of 
 departure, a matter which had been still under discus- 
 sion when last we had met. 
 
 " Mrs. MacNeill," Mr. Desmond answered me in a half- 
 shy, half -humorous way, " it is possible that the sailing 
 may be indefinitely postponed after all." 
 
 "What do you mean?" I cried, without a glimmer of 
 the truth. 
 
 He bent and lifted Aline's hand and kissed it. 
 
 "Your sister has done me the immense honour," he 
 said, " of consenting to be my wife." 
 
 Well, we were all delighted beyond measure all but
 
 THE RESTORATION OF BRANDON. 383 
 
 the boys, who were bitterly disappointed at being cheated 
 out of their for tune -hunting, so disappointed, indeed, 
 that Mr. Desmond at last persuaded Aline to consent to 
 their going out to the charge of his lieutenant, Mr. Allen, 
 whom he trusted entirely, for such time as they chose to 
 stay. 
 
 "If they have the spirit of the thing, they will be 
 happy nowhere else. If not, it will take the edge of the 
 appetite off, and they can come back to any career they 
 choose, that I can open for them." 
 
 So Aline was married by poor, faithful Mr. Benson, 
 who had the sympathy of us all and the boys went. A 
 year later Hugh returned, but Donald stayed where he 
 was. He is in Cape Town now, managing that part of 
 John Desmond's immense business, and next year he will 
 be in London, so that you may say we will all be re- 
 united again. Hugh entered Sandhurst, and is now a 
 very handsome young soldier, much in love with his 
 profession. 
 
 But as soon as Aline and he had settled down after 
 their marriage Mr. Desmond set about restoring the 
 ancient glories of Brandon. Bit by bit, and with the 
 utmost reverence, the dear old house was restored, and 
 made more beautiful than our wildest dreams could 
 have imagined. 
 
 Aline is now quite a great lady, much sought after in 
 Society, beside whom her younger sisters are quite humble 
 folk. But more than that, she is a happy and proud 
 woman, and as for the good she and John Desmond do 
 unostentatiously, that is written in the hearts of the poor, 
 and in the books of Heaven.
 
 384 THE HANDSOME BRANDONS. 
 
 The twins, by the way, were of the debutantes this 
 year, and are counted among the beauties of the Season. 
 But I don't think admiration or newspaper paragraphs 
 will make them vain or worldly, for have they not been 
 brought up by Aline, who, like a certain royal saint, goes 
 splendidly to honour her husband's position, but directs 
 the eyes of her most meek spirit ever towards the King- 
 dom of Heaven. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 PRINTED AT 
 
 THE VILLAFIELD PRESS 
 
 GLASGOW