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CELT AND SAXON By George Meredith 1910.

CONTENTS BOOK 1. I. WHEREIN AN EXCURSION IS MADE IN A CELTIC MIND II. MR. ADISTER III. CAROLINE IV. THE PRINCESS V. AT THE PIANOS CHIEFLY WITHOUT MUSIC VI. A CONSULTATION: WITH OPINIONS UPON WELSH WOMEN AND THE CAMBRIAN RACE VII. THE MINIATURE VIII. CAPTAIN CON AND MRS. ADISTER O'DONNELL IX. THE CAPTAIN'S CABIN X. THE BROTHERS XI. INTRODUCING A NEW CHARACTER BOOK 2. XII. MISS MATTOCK XIII. THE DINNER-PARTY XIV. OF ROCKNEY XV. THE MATTOCK FAMILY

XVI. OF THE GREAT MR. BULL AND THE CELTIC AND SAXON VIEW OF HIM: AND SOMETHING OF RICHARD ROCKNEY XVII. CROSSING THE RUBICON XVIII. CAPTAIN CON'S LETTER X1X. MARS CONVALESCENT

CELT AND SAXON

CHAPTER I WHEREIN AN EXCURSION IS MADE IN A CELTIC MIND A young Irish gentleman of the numerous clan O'Donnells, and a Patrick, hardly a distinction of him until we know him, had bound himself, by purchase of a railway-ticket, to travel direct to the borders of North Wales, on a visit to a notable landowner of those marches, the Squire Adister, whose family-seat was where the hills begin to lift and spy into the heart of black mountains. Examining his ticket with an apparent curiosity, the son of a greener island debated whether it would not be better for him to follow his inclinations, now that he had gone so far as to pay for the journey, and stay. But his inclinations were also subject to question, upon his considering that he had expended pounds English for the privilege of making the journey in this very train. He asked himself earnestly what was the nature of the power which forced him to do it--a bad genius or a good: and it seemed to him a sort of answer, inasmuch as it silenced the contending parties, that he had been the victim of an impetus. True; still his present position involved a certain outlay of money simply, not at all his bondage to the instrument it had procured for him, and that was true; nevertheless, to buy a ticket to shy it away is an incident so uncommon, that if we can but pause to dwell on the singularity of the act, we are unlikely to abjure our fellowship with them who would not be guilty of it; and therefore, by the aid of his reflections and a remainder of the impetus, Mr. Patrick O'Donnell stepped into a carriage of the train like any ordinary English traveller, between whom and his destination there is an agreement to meet if they can. It is an experience of hesitating minds, be they Saxon or others, that when we have submitted our persons to the charge of public companies, immediately, as if the renouncing of our independence into their hands had given us a taste of a will of our own, we are eager for the performance of their contract to do what we are only half inclined to; the train cannot go fast enough to please us, though we could excuse it for breaking down; stoppages at stations are impertinences, and the delivery of us at last on the platform is an astonishment, for it is not we who have done it--we have not even desired it. To be imperfectly in accord with the velocity precipitating us upon a certain point, is to be going without our heads, which have so much the habit of supposing it must be whither we intend, when we go in a determined manner, that a, doubt of it distracts the understanding--decapitates us; suddenly to alight, moreover, and find ourselves dropped at the heels of flying Time, like an unconsidered bundle, is anything but a reconstruction of the edifice. The natural revelry of the blood in speed suffers a violent

shock, not to speak of our notion of being left behind, quite isolated and unsound. Or, if you insist, the condition shall be said to belong exclusively to Celtic nature, seeing that it had been drawn directly from a scion of one of those tribes. Young Patrick jumped from the train as headless as good St. Denis. He was a juvenile thinker, and to discover himself here, where he both wished and wished not to be, now deeming the negative sternly in the ascendant, flicked his imagination with awe of the influence of the railway service upon the destinies of man. Settling a mental debate about a backward flight, he drove across the land so foreign to his eyes and affections, and breasted a strong tide of wishes that it were in a contrary direction. He would rather have looked upon the desert under a sand-storm, or upon a London suburb yet he looked thirstingly. Each variation of landscape of the curved highway offered him in a moment decisive features: he fitted them to a story he knew: the whole circle was animated by a couple of pale mounted figures beneath no happy light. For this was the air once breathed by Adiante Adister, his elder brother Philip's love and lost love: here she had been to Philip flame along the hill-ridges, his rose-world in the dust-world, the saintly in his earthly. And how had she rewarded him for that reverential love of her? She had forborne to kill him. The bitter sylph of the mountain lures men to climb till she winds them in vapour and leaves them groping, innocent of the red crags below. The delicate thing had not picked his bones: Patrick admitted it; he had seen his brother hale and stout not long back. But oh! she was merciless, she was a witch. If ever queen-witch was, she was the crowned one! For a personal proof, now: he had her all round him in a strange district though he had never cast eye on her. Yonder bare hill she came racing up with a plume in the wind: she was over the long brown moor, look where he would: and vividly was she beside the hurrying beck where it made edges and chattered white. He had not seen, he could not imagine her face: angelic dashed with demon beauty, was his idea of the woman, and there is little of a portrait in that; but he was of a world where the elemental is more individual than the concrete, and unconceived of sight she was a recognised presence for the green-island brain of a youth whose manner of hating was to conjure her spirit from the air and let fly his own in pursuit of her. It has to be stated that the object of the youngster's expedition to Earlsfont was perfectly simple in his mind, however much it went against his nature to perform. it. He came for the purpose of obtaining Miss Adister's Continental address; to gather what he could of her from her relatives, and then forthwith to proceed in search of her, that he might plead with her on behalf of his brother Philip, after a four years' division of the lovers. Could anything be simpler? He had familiarised himself with the thought of his advocacy during those four years. His reluctance to come would have been accountable to the Adisters by a sentiment of shame at his family's dealings with theirs: in fact, a military captain of the O'Donnells had in old days played the adventurer and charmed a maid of a certain age into yielding her hand to him; and the lady was the squire of Earlsfont's only sister: she possessed funded property. Shortly after the union, as one that has achieved the goal of enterprise, the gallant officer retired from the service nor did northwestern England put much to his credit the declaration of his wife's pronouncing him to be the best of husbands. She naturally said it of him

in eulogy; his own relatives accepted it in some contempt, mixed with a relish of his hospitality: his wife's were constant in citing his gain by the marriage. Could he possibly have been less than that? they exclaimed. An excellent husband, who might easily have been less than that, he was the most devoted of cousins, and the liberal expenditure of his native eloquence for the furtherance of Philip's love-suit was the principal cause of the misfortune, if misfortune it could subsequently be called to lose an Adiante. The Adister family were not gifted to read into the heart of a young man of a fanciful turn. Patrick had not a thought of shame devolving on him from a kinsman that had shot at a mark and hit it. Who sees the shame of taking an apple from a garden of the Hesperides? And as England cultivates those golden, if sometimes wrinkled, fruits, it would have seemed to him, in thinking about it, an entirely lucky thing for the finder; while a question of blood would have fired his veins to rival heat of self-assertion, very loftily towering: there were Kings in Ireland: cry for one of them in Uladh and you will hear his name, and he has descendants yet! But the youth was not disposed unnecessarily to blazon his princeliness. He kept it in modest reserve, as common gentlemen keep their physical strength. His reluctance to look on Earlsfont sprang from the same source as unacknowledged craving to see the place, which had precipitated him thus far upon his road: he had a horror of scenes where a faithless girl had betrayed her lover. Love was his visionary temple, and his idea of love was the solitary light in it, painfully susceptible to coldair currents from the stories of love abroad over the world. Faithlessness he conceived to be obnoxious to nature; it stained the earth and was excommunicated; there could be no pardon of the crime, barely any for repentance. He conceived it in the feminine; for men are not those holy creatures whose conduct strikes on the soul with direct edge: a faithless man is but a general villain or funny monster, a subject rejected of poets, taking no hue in the flat chronicle of history: but a faithless woman, how shall we speak of her! Women, sacredly endowed with beauty and the wonderful vibrating note about the very mention of them, are criminal to hideousness when they betray. Cry, False! on them, and there is an instant echo of bleeding males in many circles, like the poor quavering flute-howl of transformed beasts, which at some remembering touch bewail their higher state. Those women are sovereignly attractive, too, loathsomely. Therein you may detect the fiend. Our moralist had for some time been glancing at a broad, handsome old country mansion on the top of a wooded hill backed by a swarm of mountain heads all purple-dark under clouds flying thick to shallow, as from a brush of sepia. The dim silver of half-lighted lakewater shot along below the terrace. He knew the kind of sky, having oftener seen that than any other, and he knew the house before it was named to him and he had flung a discolouring thought across it. He contemplated it placably and studiously, perhaps because the shower-folding armies of the fields above likened its shadowed stillness to that of his Irish home. There had this woman lived! At the name of Earlsfont she became this witch, snake, deception. Earlsfont was the title and summary of her black story: the reverberation of the word shook up all the chapters to pour out their poison.

CHAPTER II MR. ADISTER Mr. Patrick O'Donnell drove up to the gates of Earlsfont notwithstanding these emotions, upon which light matter it is the habit of men of his blood too much to brood; though it is for our better future to have a capacity for them, and the insensible race is the oxenish. But if he did so when alone, the second man residing in the Celt put that fellow by and at once assumed the social character on his being requested to follow his card into Mr. Adister's library. He took his impression of the hall that had heard her voice, the stairs she had descended, the door she had passed through, and the globes she had perchance laid hand on, and the old mappemonde, and the severely-shining orderly regiment of books breathing of her whether she had opened them or not, as he bowed to his host, and in reply to, 'So, sir! I am glad to see you,' said swimmingly that Earlsfont was the first house he had visited in this country: and the scenery reminded him of his part of Ireland: and on landing at Holyhead he had gone off straight to the metropolis by appointment to meet his brother Philip, just returned from Canada a full captain, who heartily despatched his compliments and respects, and hoped to hear of perfect health in this quarter of the world. And Captain Con the same, and he was very flourishing. Patrick's opening speech concluded on the sound of a short laugh coming from Mr. Adister. It struck the young Irishman's ear as injurious and scornful in relation to Captain Con; but the remark ensuing calmed him: 'He has no children.' 'No, sir; Captain Con wasn't born to increase the number of our clan,' Patrick rejoined; and thought: By heaven! I get a likeness of her out of you, with a dash of the mother mayhap somewhere. This was his Puckmanner of pulling a girdle round about from what was foremost in his head to the secret of his host's quiet observation; for, guessing that such features as he beheld would be slumped on a handsome family, he was led by the splendid severity of their lines to perceive an illimitable pride in the man likely to punish him in his offspring, who would inherit that as well; so, as is the way with the livelier races, whether they seize first or second the matter or the spirit of what they hear, the vivid indulgence of his own ideas helped him to catch the right meaning by the tail, and he was enlightened upon a domestic unhappiness, although Mr. Adister had not spoken miserably. The 'dash of the mother' was thrown in to make Adiante, softer, and leave a loophole for her relenting. The master of Earlsfont stood for a promise of beauty in his issue, requiring to be softened at the mouth and along the brows, even in men. He was tall, and had clear Greek outlines: the lips were locked metal, thin as edges of steel, and his eyes, when he directed them on the person he addressed or the person speaking, were as little varied by motion of the lids as eyeballs of a stone bust. If they expressed more, because they were not sculptured eyes, it was the expression of his high and frigid nature rather than any of the diversities pertaining to sentiment

sir. Adister appeared to acquiesce. . I've had lessons in the art. 'Give me a chance'. You fence?' 'That's to say. An Irish gentleman owning land might do worse.' 'Nor am I. Adister said. 'It is not your intention to be an idle gentleman?' 'No.' 'Women do these things. I suppose. 'You have had the bequest of an estate. You are something of a shot. 'Your priests should know. Adister continued: 'Good runs are to be had here. We hear of gentlemen now who neither hunt nor shoot. and my horses. and Mr. 'And I think too. and my house. 'The professions are crammed. sir. Observations of sly import went by him like the whispering wind. I understand.' Mr. nor a vagrant Irishman. to where bog ends and cultivation begins. Adister said.and shades of meaning. Adister pulled the arm of his chair.' Mr.' 'Not bequeathed by a member of your family?' 'By a distant cousin. 'A small one. I am in favour of some degree of military training for all gentlemen. to compliment him by touching on his affairs. You hunt?' Patrick's look was.' Patrick nodded assent.' 'I am not aware that there is now an art of fencing taught in Ireland. not a quarter of a county. you shall try them. chancing to have been one of my godmothers.' Mr. sir?' ''Tis a tramp of discovery.' he said. not in perfect approbation of their doings.' said Patrick.' Patrick replied to his tone.' 'Bequeathed to you exclusively over the head of your elder brother.' Mr. 'Productive. 'though there's no knowing what goes on in the cabins. 'But my purse is Philip's. I do.' said Patrick. it might have gone to the elder.' 'You propose to sit down over there?' 'When I've more brains to be of service to them and the land.

he referred to the fencing. Adister peered into his brows profoundly for a glimpse of the devilry in that exclusion of the valse. by courtesy.' 'These Jesuits encourage dancing?' 'The square dance--short of the embracing: the valse is under interdict. Mr. 'I was taught by a Parisian master of the art. 'I think I have heard something of a Jesuit seminary. sir.' 'These Jesuits taught you the use of the foils?' 'They allowed me the privilege of learning. Mr. you hit on another of my accomplishments. Adister said: 'You don't dance?' He said it speculating on the' kind of gentleman produced in Paris by the disciples of Loyola. then. Adister could have exclaimed. After a pause between them. provoking the retort 'Thanks to them. and yet subservient to them? 'Thanks to the Jesuits. you are almost a Parisian.' Mr. That shadow of the monk! had he been in an exclamatory mood.' 'The Fathers did me the service to knock all I know into me. Adister corrected himself in the higher notes of recollection.' said Patrick. He said: 'They have not made a monk of you.' Perhaps it was thrown in for the comfort of mundane ears afflicted sorely. and Paris is to me as pure a place as four whitewashed walls:' Patrick added: 'without a shadow of a monk on them.To this Patrick thought it well not to reply. and no point of principle pertained to the slur on a monk.' he remarked. Patrick tried his art of fence with the absurdity by saying: 'All but like a native. 'Pardon me.' 'You have been to Paris?' 'I was educated in Paris. The lack of precise words admonished him of .' 'How? Ah!' Mr. sir. and call it education. basking in the unobscured frown of his host. sir.' Patrick was minded to explain how that the Jesuits are a religious order exercising worldly weapons. What object had those people in encouraging the young fellow to be a perfect fencer and dancer. so that he should be of the school of the polite world. then. 'Then you are accustomed to speak French?' The interrogation was put to extract some balm from the circumstance. I've stored a little.' After meditation.

Adister in seeming anger. then. he shrugged. 'for what fools call a brilliant marriage?' 'My religion?' Patrick now treated the question seriously and raised his head: 'I'd not suffer myself to be asked twice. The young Catholic gentleman expected he might hear a frenetic zealot roar out: Be off! He was not immediately reassured by the words 'Dead or alive. and drinking-horns.' said he. Adister soon confirmed his view by saying: 'You are no disgrace to your begetting. shields on the armoury walls and huntinghorns.' he spoke more pointedly. blue-stone necklaces. 'You would not change your religion. sir!' With that he quitted his chair. 'Not I. sir?' said Mr.' The sceptical northern-blue eyes of his host dwelt on him with their full repellent stare. there were curious rough heirlooms to be seen about the house. 'or whatever the devil can offer!--or. and chain-belts bearing clasps of heads of beasts. huge rings that must have given the wearers fearful fists. and Mr. under glass-cases. were in the library.' 'Then. Patrick thought he would have to rise: he half fancied himself summoned to change his religion or depart from the house. CHAPTER III CAROLINE Men of the Adister family having taken to themselves brides of a very dusty pedigree from the Principality.' 'Or any title!' interjected Mr. Adister. Thinking it scarcely required a response. you have a father!' The spectacle of a state of excitement without a show of feeling was novel to Patrick. torques. you are no Jesuit?' he was asked. and he retreated--with a quiet negative: 'They have not. and hospitably proposed to conduct his guest over the house and grounds.the virtue of silence. He began to see that he was not implicated in a wrath that referred to some great offender. and he replied: 'I don't happen to have an ambition for the title of Prince. 'Not for the title of Prince?' he was further pressed. and spears. a shirt of coarse linen with a pale brown spot on . old gold ornaments.

as Patrick was bidden to understand. by acknowledging that he was in the presence of the sole rival of his brother. among the immortals. and to Captain David's. and have we not the word of heaven directing her to submit herself to him who is her husband before all others? That peerless Adiante had previously erred in the upper sphere where she received her condemnation. Adister had sprung a new sense in him on the subject of the renunciation of the religion. Thus did the ingenious Patrick change his ground and gain his argument with the celerity of one who wins a game by playing it without an adversary. Up there. on our flat surface of earth. her betrayal of Philip had nothing of a woman's base caprice to make it infamous: she had sacrificed him to her reading of duty. where the fires in the grates went through the ceremony of warming nobody. He remonstrated with them. He cast an odd look at the old shell containing him when he was a brilliant youth. Why was she absent from her home so long? where was she? How could her name be started? And was it she who was the sinner in her father's mind? But the idolatrous love between Adiante and her father was once a legend: they could not have been cut asunder. it would have disengaged him from the incessant speculations regarding the daughter of the house. They appeared to satisfy him. History humbly knocked at the Earlsfont hall-doors. and as he was aware that the difference of their faith had been the main cause of the division of Adiante and Philip. and many sealed parchment-skins. He would have been affected by these wonders had any relic of Adiante appeased his thirst. for an inspection of which. Patrick was marched on to Colonel Arthur's rooms. They traversed a banqueting-hall hung with portraits. you children of earth. and that was duty to her father. She had offered up her love of Philip as a sacrifice to it: Patrick recollected that. that a woman's first duty is her duty to her lover. like a fallen beech-leaf. If that was the case. and now with a softer gloom on his brooding he released her from the burden of his grand charge of unfaithfulness to the truest of lovers. he was compelled to shake his head at her still.the breast. of whom not a word was uttered. Already Patrick had a dread of naming the daughter. A modern steel cuirass. Glorious girl that she was. No portrait of her was shown. No thought of a possible apostasy had ever occurred to the youth. though she interested him beyond all her sisterhood above. reprovingly. . and the proud muse made her transcripts of them kneeling. A reception-hall flung folding-doors on a grand drawing-room. very precious. What if she had done it. Mr. it had to be confessed. for his guest to be interested in them or not as he might please. her parents are her second thought. and more than sadly in certain moods of exaltation. assuring them. Adister to say that he had worn the uniform in his day. he could at least consent to think well of her down here. and the point of duty was in this instance rather a sacred one. to two or three of which the master of Earlsfont carelessly pointed. that is. the sailor. He heard voices murmur that she might be praised. but such a sphere is ladder and ladder and silver ladder high above your hair-splitting pates. Her lover. as one who knew. helmet and plume at a corner of the armoury reminded Mr. is her husband. An idea struck him that she might be the person who had been guilty of it over there on the Continent. Or had there been one mention of her. they could hardly have thrown off their religion. and made a show of keeping the house alive. and it is not for you to act on the verdict in decrying her: rather 'tis for you to raise hymns of worship to a saint. in the consideration of a real soul among the shifty creatures. Their father talked of his two sons.

' 'You have your brother's notions of cavalry. . love me double'. the Austrian light cavalry's a model. I've put the knife to my father's love of me. and not a scrap of system that I see. it accounted for everything: for her absence. and seemed. in advance. for the sake of knowledge. and when they take to studying. I call that the land for horses where the cavalry's well-mounted on a native breed. Then we sit our horses too heavy. that we heathen may get a peep of their secret rose-enfolded selves. barely descried. if she would expound it. Supposing it so. 'We must look alive to keep up our breed. There you imagine what you will. he at once accepted a view of her that so agreeably quieted his perplexity. So I'm told. we've no light cavalry. An Adiante meets her lover another Adiante.' Mr. hovers to a meeting with some one whose heart shakes your manful frame at but a thought of it. sir. for as yet it was unknown that she did it all for an O'Donnell. and he leapt out of his tangle into the happy open spaces where the romantic things of life are as natural as the sun that rises and sets. have you!' 'I leave it to Philip to boast what cavalry can do on the field. to a gentleman unaware of the vaporous activities of his brain. and chased by you that she may interpret the mystical nature of the happiness of those two. We've no studying here. and gone into a convent to wait for Philip to come and claim her?--saying. Meanwhile he conversed. you are ready to learn it.upon a review of her treatment of her lover. 'We have not much to teach you in: horseflesh. 'Philip. you live what you imagine. and then it 's for lying flat and roaring-and we'll drop the curtain. But this other Adiante is altogether a secondary conception. The French are studying it. in sympathy with the darting couple ahead . a young fellow of a certain practical sense.' . for the blessed mischief it works with us. All the country seems armed for bullying the facts. quitting the stables to proceed to the gardens. they come to the fore. it is chiefly in a spirit of imitation. close-linked to eternity. and the pretty good sort of welcome Patrick had received. enough to show how the dear angel looks in her sleep: a trick of kindness these heavenly women have. 'We're breeding too fine: and soon we shan't be able to horse our troopers. the phantom likeness of her. These being his reflections. I'll see for myself. and so she just half swoons. till the periodical panic arrives. I'll pay a visit to their breeding establishments. You would learn it.' said Patrick. and dream 's no word. and her father's abstention from a mention of her. Adister said. Properly to speak. 'Tis the beer that fattens and swells him. and for the work it's intended to do. The Saxon trooper runs headlong to flesh. . nor drunken. . Prussia's well horsed. similar to the finger-tips. He knows: but he knows that troopers must be mounted: and we're fineing more and more from bone: with the sales to foreigners! and the only chance of their not beating us is that they'll be so good as follow our bad example. if you please. and if you link yourself to her and do as those two are doing.

Adister. and we're mixed up. with his cap in the air. and the greater part sentiment.' 'We 're held together and a trifle intermixed. It was pronounced as the termination to sheer maundering. He began on it as it surged up to him: 'Well. 'You're not obliged to adore it to give it a wakener. But the key of the difficulty's a sparkle of enthusiasm. 'If you'd have the goodness to kindle his enthusiasm. she doesn't mind how heavy she sits: nor that 's not the point.' 'A very poor business!' Mr. . united than tearing to strips: and so. We don't count many millions in Europe. and taking kicks from a big foot across the Atlantic. Adister. there. what does that mean?' Patrick cast about to reply to the formal challenge for an explanation. he'd be for the first person plural. We'd like her better for a spice of devotion to alight higher up in politics and religion. I don't know whether we wouldn't be satisfied with her for politeness in her manners. and shaking bayonets out of her mob-cap for a little one's cock of the eye at her: and she's all for the fleshpots. and behold her more respectfully. though I haven't much outlook! We'd be satisfied with her for a handsome figure. That's Captain Con. 'I detest enthusiasm. 'tis true. both of us. nor the potato crop.' Patrick finished his airy sketch of the Irish case in a key signifying that he might be one among the many. I think. It's part business. and calls the rest of mankind fools because they're not the same: and so long as she can trim her ribands and have her hot toast and tea. as the tops of big mountains do: or if she were only braced and gallant. with a bit of brightness about it. sir. to show an idea inside striking alight from the day that's not yet nodding at us. when there's nothing to be done. your cousin.' returned Mr. who has apparently yet to learn that we are one people. instead of a bundle squatting fat on a pile of possessions and vowing she won't budge.' said Patrick. nor 's the land question. Ready. if we 're not to get loose. if a stand was once made. but unobtrusive.'You say we. 'I hear you launched at us English by the captain.' said Patrick. and many like him. well or ill. and there's no shame in submitting to force majeure. Adister rejoined. if only she wore the right sort of face to look at. We want a rousing in the heart of us. with a suspicion of a dram in it. for the past! so long as we can set our eyes upon something to admire. and cried. 'Stick to horses!' observed Mr. or else we'd be pleased with her for sitting so as not to overlap us entirely: we'd feel more at home. and be joined to you by more than a telegraphic cable. 'Pray. the country that's got hold of us. We'd see the policy of an honourable union. and we're stronger. 'But Captain Con's a bit of a politician: a poor business. I fancy it's we with him and with me when we're talking of army or navy.

' had been hinted as an offence. and why? No one else accompanied them on their march to the dinner-table. 'You Irish': and he reflected that the saying. Disappointment is a poor term for the descent from an immoderate height. Once or twice he had a twinge or suspicion of a sting from the tone of his host. A Caroline awakened no soft association of fancies. an Eveleen. Patrick heard enough to let him understand why the lord of Earlsfont and Captain Con were not on the best of terms. 'You English. through his veins. he would have bowed more cordially on his introduction to her. To a Kathleen. they were a part of us. that shook leaves of recollection of the happiest of life--the sweet things dreamed undesiringly in opening youth. so that it is not . Nor would he have throbbed had one of any of his favourite names appeared in the place of Caroline Adister. doubtless the nether part. There was but one Miss Adister for Patrick. to lend an air of grace and warmth to his home. Mr. Adister had spoken of his niece Caroline. their features wooed the dream. when. or an Alicia. He noticed that his host occasionally allowed himself to say. They had not moved his heart. he classed her in the tribe of Carolines. He forgot to think that he had possibly provoked this alienation in a scornfully proud spirit. they had only stirred the sources of wonder. The others had variously tinted skies above them. but the acknowledgment that we have shot up irrationally reconciles even unphilosophical youth to the necessity of the fall.' if it amused them: so long as they were not recalcitrant. his wife dead. and the announcement of the coming of an Eveleen would perchance have sped a little wild fire. and as he had never taken a liking to a Caroline. Patrick pursued his double task of hunting his thousand speculations and conversing fluently.Patrick talked on the uppermost topic for the remainder of their stroll. no mysterious heaven and earth. though he was not political and was of a mood to pity the poor gentleman's melancholy state of solitariness. with all his children absent. he was raised to anticipate the possible beholding of her. not having a wide command of the undecorated plain speech which enjoyed his approval. An Eveleen had carried him farthest to imagine the splendours of an Adiante. though we must continue sensible of a shock. The language of metaphor was to Mr. for we are sensitive there: this is justice but the indications by fiddle-faddle verbiage of anything objectionable to the whole in the part aroused an irritability that speedily endued him with the sense of sanity opposing lunacy. and how. to which what the world calls curiosity is frozenly akin. receiving orders from his master. Against reason. they were to be tolerated. He conceded the use of it to the Irish and the Welsh as a right that stamped them for what they were by adopting it. or a Bessy. Adister fool's froth. and they might look on a country as a 'she. She was the Miss Adister. A lacquey. She was a Caroline. or else we suffer. led it on as the wooded glen leads the eye till we are deep in richness. mentioned Miss Adister. yet not the less a part for which we are bound to exercise a specially considerate care. and Caroline's entrance into the drawing-room brought him to the ground. for these were names with portraits and vistas beyond. a young lady of twenty. only a niece. a Nora. he withdrew into the entrenchments of contempt.

to be off. 'The Faith of my fathers! and any pattern you like for my conduct. the next morning. or the country--where she is. of course.' She sighed. or they had. if it's a good one. 'Oh.' 'That I'll believe. if you'll be so good. or the captain? Forgive me!' Her head shook. she informed him. 'Madame Dugue is a Catholic of Catholics. can you tell me?--just whereabouts! You're surprised: but I want her address. 'Not a word have I heard.' cried Patrick. and then he remembered the niceness of her manners. And now. to see her. for I've a load. as they sauntered together on the terrace. the impression made on him by this young Caroline was inefficient to distinguish her from the horde of her baptismal sisters.' Patrick spoke as he thought. it's just the address. and the most honourable of women. or the city. when he retired to his room. and some individuality in the look of it. because I love my brother. 'Is it she? Is it his daughter? I must ask!' 'You have not heard?' Oh! then.' 'There's my mind clear as print!' Patrick exclaimed.' said Caroline. I guessed it.' said he. though it's in the dark. He supposed her to have been educated where the interfusion of a natural liveliness with a veiling retenue gives the title of lady. and it was the capital of Austria. and he seemed to end by a sort of approval. And she had a pleasant face: he was able to see that. I could drop on my knees to you!' The declaration was fortunately hushed by a supplicating ardour. Miss Caroline. but I thought it out for myself. and won't let me be running blindfold.' Caroline hesitated before she said: 'You have noticed my Uncle Adister's prepossession. his extreme sensitiveness on that subject. I'm anxious to speak to her. . it acts like an instinct.' 'He blazed on me. I mean. which is a Catholic country. and they've Irish blood in the service there. I'll find her.' 'Is it the colonel. But you know the clear address. 'one could strive to imitate without embracing her faith.astonishing if. 'He has had cause for great unhappiness. and wasn't for proselytisms. no: she was faithful to her trust. I fancy. let me beg. or Mr. and there's nothing like that for sending you straight.' 'Save for the grand example!' 'That. 'A Protestant. She's on the Continent and has been a long time. It's anywhere she may be in a ring. She had enjoyed the advantage of having an estimable French lady for her governess. with a flash of pride in his arrowy sagacity. only show me the ring.

Disrooted body and soul! --for a moonshine title!--a gaming-table foreign knave!--Known for a knave!--A young gentlewoman?--a wild Welsh . I have now received three letters bearing on this matter within as many months. It is my belief that Camminy has taken a partner that he may act the independent gentleman at his leisure.Adister would have looked more surprised than his niece. 'You will consider that one enough for the day. I. must continue to be the mark for these letters. held up an opened letter for Caroline's perusal. I suppose. Adister paid a fruitless call on his lawyer. I shall expect soon to hear myself abused as the positive cause of the loss of a Crown!' 'Mr. grieved at their having bad news. . Adister burst out again: 'And why not come over here to settle this transaction herself?--provided that I am spared the presence of her Schinderhannes! She could very well come. a third partner. if Crydney and Welvas are to go. His partner is always visible. . They had a perverse effect. He stepped out of the library window as they were passing. but I do not communicate upon personal business with his partner. Caroline murmured some soothing words. and vexed with himself for being a stranger. .' was his answer. Patrick managed to restrain a bubbling remark on the respective charms of claret and duty. and toss them to the wind. Camminy will probably appear at the dinner hour. his partner is at home. Half an hour later they were all three riding to the market-town. that they might be blown back on him by the powers of air in an intelligible form. unable to console them. The jewels may well go too. I might as well deposit my family history in the hands of a club. where Mr. He was rewarded for listening devoutly. and by and by there will be.' said Caroline. and the exclamations ended. Mr. meantime. 'Any others?' she said. springing back to the saddle. Down to the sale of her hereditary jewels! I profess no astonishment. She took a view of the handwriting. leaving Patrick to shuffle them together and read the riddle they presented. tempting though the occasion was for him to throw in a conversational word or two. evidently with a mind occupied by his own affairs. 'Claret attracts him: I wish I could say as much of duty. 'His partner! yes.' rejoined her uncle. Patrick descended the terrace and strolled by the waterside. 'And never is at home! never was known to be at home when wanted!' he said. !' Caroline put her horse to a canter. and.

Patrick merely wished to be informed who the man was. Adister had said. his vision had gone. acrid enough to win the applause of cynics. and was much of a knave: and particularly Patrick would have liked to be informed of the fellow's religion. and had it been the bottle instead of Caroline's coffee-cup. he felt himself poor and empty and rejoicing in the keenness of his hunger for breakfast. He dreaded a single step in the wrong direction. Patrick hied away to one of the dusky nooks by the lake for a bracing plunge. It conjured up a smoky moon under confounding eclipse. Boasting was the best relief that a young man not without modesty could find. and his incapacity to get an idea out of anything he looked on: he had not a sensation of cold till the stinging element gripped him. for a pillow! To confess that he had not the courage to inquire was as good as an acknowledgment that he knew too much for an innocent questioner. singularly lean. It is the finest school for the cure of dreamers. and therefore forbore to hang on any of his conjectures. he is on the highroad of recklessness. for he might perchance be unjust to the blessedest heroine on the surface of the earth--a truly awful thought! Yet her name would no longer bear the speaking of it to himself. Who was Schinderhannes? Mr. A youth despoiled of his Vision and made sensible by the activity of his physical state that he is a common machine. in winter at least. and the fools known as lovers. and delighted himself to think that he had seen nothing. Mr. who let him go no earlier than the opening of a December day. and whether he had a title. After a turbulent night with Schinderhannes. laughing. he could say that his prescription was good for him.CHAPTER IV THE PRINCESS Dinner. It was not possible. for excess of whatsoever you may offer him. and upon love. He attributed to his desire for it the strange deadness of the atmosphere. Patrick would soon have received a priming for a delivery of views upon the sex. and . her Schinderhannes. The quiet course of things within the house appeared to him to have a listening ear for big events outside. but not the less inveterate. two minutes of stout watery battle. He took a peep through fancy's keyhole. But asking was not easy. and a little piano-music and a song closed an evening that was not dull to Patrick in spite of prolonged silences. with the enemy close all round. And there was a barrel of powder to lay a fiery head on. Adister complimented him on the robustness of his habits. is eager for meat. And what did he know? His brother Philip's fair angel forbade him to open the door upon what he knew. The dip was sharpening. and he stood in far better trim to meet his redoubtable adversary of overnight. but the rascal was a bandit and had robbed him of his purse. that was a positive fact. we have only to jump out of our clothes to feel the reality of things in a trice. convinced him that. his craving to get an idea ceased with it absolutely.

the best books on agriculture will be found there. You can make your choice in the stables. would soon spin the blood-upon an Esquimaux dog. O'Donnell would not be unwilling to begin the day with some duets?' Patrick eagerly put on his shame-face to accept her invitation. when I abhor the business. moreover.' His host thanked him for spreading the contagion of good appetite. Adister's courteous regrets that he would have to be a prisoner in the house until his legal adviser thought proper to appear. 'Short of Arctic.' he pursued. And it is not my business. by a lady who 's a good marksman! And birds and hares are always willing to wait for us.' Caroline's needle-thrust was provoked: 'Would not Arctic weather deter you. 'But a gallop. I'm one with the pigs for truffles. after an Arctic bath. 'As for entertainment. She smiled. of course. remarking that he was a prisoner indeed.' said Caroline. It is hard for me to speak of it.' 'Perhaps. so I 'll pay court again to that gamepie. Mr. they keep better alive. We must perforce be critics of these tear-away wits. 'There is the library. 'if you care for books. in answer to Mr. so threadbare to conceal the character! Caroline led him to vaunt his riding and his shooting. if you would like to explore the country. 'Mr. it is very much the reverse but I am compelled to undertake it as my own.' said he. accepting the mental alertness he fastened on her. O'Donnell?' He hummed. Her wish was to divert her uncle. which are. Mr. unless Camminy should decide to come. I forgot to say that I can sing. and for the whole day. and followed his example. 'that the best fortification for the exercise of the a voice is hearty eating. 'But I've heard.' 'Then I was in the presence of a connoisseur last night. Patrick discerned the intention and aided her. Adister consulted his watch and the mantelpiece clock for a minute of difference between them. to anticipate his critic's remark on the absence of horses. 'I'll be perfectly happy if Miss Caroline will give me as much of her company as she can spare. Robust habits and heartiness were signs with him of a conscience at peace.' he said. and a certain time passed before she perceived that though he responded naturally to her first sly attacks. much more to act a part in it. and her eyes filled with the sparkle.' he had to say. and he thought the Jesuits particularly .' he said. protesting that his boldness was entirely due to his delight in music. with a bow. It 's amusing to be shot at too.Patrick 'would like to hear of the temptation that could keep him from his morning swim.' Caroline interposed hurriedly. I am detained here by a man who seems to think my business of less importance than his pleasures. his gross exaggerations upon them had not been the triumph of absurdity she supposed herself to have evoked.

forbearing in the amount of harm they had done to this young man. So they were still at table when Mr. Camminy was announced and ushered in. The man of law murmured an excuse or two; he knew his client's eye, and how to thaw it. 'No, Miss Adister, I have not breakfasted,' he said, taking the chair placed for him. 'I was all day yesterday at Windlemont, engaged in assisting to settle the succession. Where estates are not entailed!' 'The expectations of the family are undisciplined and certain not to be satisfied,' Mr. Adister carried on the broken sentence. 'That house will fall! However, you have lost no time this morning.--Mr. Patrick O'Donnell.' Mr. Camminy bowed busily somewhere in the direction between Patrick and the sideboard. 'Our lawyers have us inside out, like our physicians,' Mr. Adister resumed, talking to blunt his impatience for a private discussion with his own. 'Surgery's a little in their practice too, we think in Ireland,' said Patrick. Mr. Camminy assented: 'No doubt.' He was hungry, and enjoyed the look of the table, but the look of his client chilled the prospect, considered in its genial appearance as a feast of stages; having luminous extension; so, to ease his client's mind, he ventured to say: 'I thought it might be urgent.' 'It is urgent,' was the answer. 'Ah: foreign? domestic?' A frown replied. Caroline, in haste to have her duties over, that she might escape the dreaded outburst, pressed another cup of tea on Mr. Camminy and groaned to see him fill his plate. She tried to start a topic with Patrick. 'The princess is well, I hope?' Mr. Camminy asked in the voice of discretion. 'It concerns her Highness?' 'It concerns my daughter and her inheritance from her mad grandmother!' Mr. Adister rejoined loudly; and he continued like a retreating thunder: 'A princess with a title as empty as a skull! At best a princess of swamps, and swine that fight for acorns, and men that fight for swine!' Patrick caught a glance from Caroline, and the pair rose together. 'They did that in our mountains a couple of thousand years ago,' said Mr. Camminy, 'and the cause was not so bad, to judge by this ham. Men must fight: the law is only a quieter field for them.' 'And a fatter for the ravens,' Patrick joined in softly, as if carrying on a song.

'Have at us, Mr. O'Donnell! I'm ashamed of my appetite, Miss Adister, but the morning's drive must be my excuse, and I'm bounden to you for not forcing me to detain you. Yes, I can finish breakfast at my leisure, and talk of business, which is never particularly interesting to ladies-though,' Mr. Camminy turned to her uncle, 'I know Miss Adister has a head for it.' Patrick hummed a bar or two of an air, to hint of his being fanatico per la musica, as a pretext for their departure. 'If you'll deign to give me a lesson,' said he, as Caroline came away from pressing her lips to her uncle's forehead. 'I may discover that I am about to receive one,' said she. They quitted the room together. Mr. Camminy had seen another Miss Adister duetting with a young Irishman and an O'Donnell, with lamentable results to that union of voices, and he permitted himself to be a little astonished at his respected client's defective memory or indifference to the admonition of identical circumstances.

CHAPTER V AT THE PIANO, CHIEFLY WITHOUT MUSIC Barely had the door shut behind them when Patrick let his heart out: 'The princess?' He had a famished look, and Caroline glided along swiftly with her head bent, like one musing; his tone alarmed her; she lent him her ear, that she might get some understanding of his excitement, suddenly as it seemed to have come on him; but he was all in his hungry interrogation, and as she reached her piano and raised the lid, she saw it on tiptoe straining for her answer. 'I thought you were aware of my cousin's marriage.' 'Was I?' said Patrick, asking it of himself, for his conscience would not acknowledge an absolute ignorance. 'No: I fought it, I wouldn't have a blot on her be suspected. She's married! She's married to one of their princes!--married for a title!--and changed her religion! And Miss Adister, you're speaking of Adiante?' 'My cousin Adiante.' 'Well did I hate the name! I heard it first over in France. Our people wrote to me of her; and it's a name to set you thinking: Is she tender, or nothing like a woman,--a stone? And I put it to my best friend there, Father Clement, who's a scholar, up in everything, and he said it was a name with a pretty sound and an ill meaning--far from tender; and a bad history too, for she was one of the forty-nine Danaides who killed their husbands for the sake of their father and was not likely to be the fiftieth, considering the name she bore. It was for her father's sake

she as good as killed her lover, and the two Adiantes are like enough: they're as like as a pair of hands with daggers. So that was my brother Philip's luck! She's married! It's done; it's over, like death: no hope. And this time it's against her father; it's against her faith. There's the end of Philip! I could have prophesied it; I did; and when they broke, from her casting him off--true to her name! thought I. She cast him off, and she couldn't wait for him, and there's his heart broken. And I ready to glorify her for a saint! And now she must have loved the man, or his title, to change her religion. She gives him her soul! No praise to her for that: but mercy! what a love it must be. Or else it's a spell. But wasn't she rather one for flinging spells than melting? Except that we're all of us hit at last, and generally by our own weapon. But she loved Philip: she loved him down to shipwreck and drowning: she gave battle for him, and against her father; all the place here and the country's alive with their meetings and partings:--she can't have married! She wouldn't change her religion for her lover: how can she have done it for this prince? Why, it's to swear false oaths!-unless it's possible for a woman to slip out of herself and be another person after a death like that of a love like hers.' Patrick stopped: the idea demanded a scrutiny. 'She's another person for me,' he said. 'Here's the worst I ever imagined of her!--thousands of miles and pits of sulphur beyond the worst and the very worst! I thought her fickle, I thought her heartless, rather a black fairy, perched above us, not quite among the stars of heaven. I had my ideas. But never that she was a creature to jump herself down into a gulf and be lost for ever. She's gone, extinguished --there she is, under the penitent's hoodcap with eyeholes, before the faggots! and that's what she has married!--a burning torment, and none of the joys of martyrdom. Oh! I'm not awake. But I never dreamed of such a thing as this--not the hard, bare, lump-of-earth-fact:--and that's the only thing to tell me I'm not dreaming now.' He subsided again; then deeply beseeching asked: 'Have you by chance a portrait of the gentleman, Miss Adister? Is there one anywhere?' Caroline stood at her piano, turning over the leaves of a music-book, with a pressure on her eyelids. She was near upon being thrilled in spite of an astonishment almost petrifying: and she could nearly have smiled, so strange was his fraternal adoption, amounting to a vivification--of his brother's passion. He seemed quite naturally to impersonate Philip. She wondered, too, in the coolness of her alien blood, whether he was a character, or merely an Irish character. As to the unwontedness of the scene, Ireland was chargeable with that; and Ireland also, a little at his expense as a citizen of the polite world, relieved him of the extreme ridicule attached to his phrases and images. She replied: 'We have no portrait.' 'May I beg to know, have you seen him?' said Patrick. Caroline shook her head. 'Is there no telling what he is like, Miss Adister?'

'He is not young.' 'An old man!' She had not said that, and she wished to defend her cousin from the charge of contracting such an alliance, but Patrick's face had brightened out of a gloom of stupefaction; he assured her he was now ready to try his voice with hers, only she was to excuse a touch of hoarseness; he felt it slightly in his throat: and could he, she asked him, wonder at it after his morning's bath? He vindicated the saneness of the bath as well as he was able, showing himself at least a good reader of music. On the whole, he sang pleasantly, particularly French songs. She complimented him, with an emphasis on the French. He said, yes, he fancied he did best in French, and he had an idea of settling in France, if he found that he could not live quietly in his own country. 'And becoming a Frenchman?'said Caroline. 'Why not?' said he. 'I 'm more at home with French people; they're mostly of my creed; they're amiable, though they weren't quite kind to poor Lally Tollendal. I like them. Yes, I love France, and when I'm called upon to fix myself, as I suppose I shall be some day, I shan't have the bother over there that I should find here.' She spoke reproachfully: 'Have you no pride in the title of Englishman?' 'I 'm an Irishman.' 'We are one nation.' 'And it's one family where the dog is pulled by the collar.' There was a retort on him: she saw, as it were, the box, but the lid would not open to assist her to it, and she let it go by, thinking in her patriotic derision, that to choose to be likened to the unwilling dog of the family was evidence of a want of saving pride. Besides, she could not trust to the glibness of her tongue in a contest with a young gentleman to whom talking was as easy as breathing, even if sometimes his volubility exposed him to attack. A superior position was offered her by her being silent and critical. She stationed herself on it: still she was grieved to think of him as a renegade from his country, and she forced herself to say: 'Captain O'Donnell talks in that manner.' 'Captain Con is constitutionally discontented because he's a bard by nature, and without the right theme for his harp,' said Patrick. 'He has a notion of Erin as the unwilling bride of Mr. Bull, because her lord is not off in heroics enough to please her, and neglects her, and won't let her be mistress of her own household, and she can't forget that he once had the bad trick of beating her: she sees the marks. And you mayn't believe it, but the Captain's temper is to praise and exalt. It is. Irony in him is only eulogy standing on its head: a sort of an upside down; a perversion: that's our view of him at home. All he desires is to have us on the march, and he'd be perfectly happy marching, never mind the banner, though a bit of green in it would put him in tune, of course.

The banner of the Cid was green, Miss Adister: or else it's his pennon that was. And there's a quantity of our blood in Spain too. We've watered many lands.' The poor young English lady's brain started wildly on the effort to be with him, and to understand whether she listened to humour or emotion: she reposed herself as well as she could in the contemplation of an electrically-flashing maze, where every line ran losing itself in another. He added: 'Old Philip!' in a visible throb of pity for his brother; after the scrupulous dubitation between the banner and the pennon of the Cid! It would have comforted her to laugh. She was closer upon tears, and without any reason for them in her heart. Such a position brings the hesitancy which says that the sitting is at an end. She feared, as she laid aside her music-books, that there would be more to come about Adiante, but he spared her. He bowed to her departing, and strolled off by himself.

CHAPTER VI A CONSULTATION: WITH OPINIONS UPON WELSHWOMEN AND THE CAMBRIAN RACE Later in the day she heard that he was out scouring the country on one of her uncle's horses. She had too many distressing matters to think of for so singular a young man to have any other place than that which is given to the fantastical in a troubled and serious mind. He danced there like the whimsy sunbeam of a shaken water below. What would be his opinion of Adiante if he knew of her determination to sell the two fair estates she inherited from a grandmother whom she had venerated; that she might furnish arms to her husband to carry out an audacious enterprise likely to involve both of them in blood and ruin? Would he not bound up aloft and quiver still more wildly? She respected, quaint though it was, his imaginative heat of feeling for Adiante sufficiently to associate him with her so far; and she lent him in fancy her own bewilderment and grief at her cousin's conduct, for the soothing that his exaggeration of them afforded her. She could almost hear his outcry. The business of the hour demanded more of her than a seeking for refreshment. She had been invited to join the consultation of her uncle with his lawyer. Mr. Adister tossed her another letter from Vienna, of that morning's delivery. She read it with composure. It became her task to pay no heed to his loss of patience, and induce him to acquiesce in his legal adviser's view which was, to temporise further, present an array of obstacles, and by all possible suggestions induce the princess to come over to England, where her father's influence with her would have a chance of being established again; and it might then be hoped that she, who had never when under sharp temptation acted disobediently to his wishes at home, and who certainly would not have dreamed of contracting the abhorred alliance had she been breathing the air of common sense

had excessively vexed him. Englishmen allied to them had to learn that they were dealing with broomstick witches and irresponsible sprites. and attendant circumstances to swear loud witness to it. Behold now the consequence of the wilful Welshwoman's insanest of legacies! The estates were left to Adiante Adister for her sole use and benefit. Adister described the Cambrian ladies as a kind of daughters of the Fata Morgana. you had mortally offended them. and a certain month. with the weathervane head of her race. A devilish malignity bequeathed them: let them go back to their infernal origin. Mr. and alone. making almost a man of her. if not the solemn obligation. unless you had them fast by their spinning fancy. our Ambassadress there. was the word for them. But the girl would accept. She marvelled at his opposition. Caroline was urgent with her uncle to act on such good counsel. Mr. and he that the naturally lighter scale should continue to kick the beam. Colonel Arthur and Captain David. Let them go. It was the ante-chamber of madness. that it outraged and did permanent injury to his ideas of the proper balance of the sexes. Possibly you may in their presence have had occasion to praise the military virtues of the builder of Carnarvon Castle. of retaining to herself these family possessions. Adister had warned her both against her going and against the influence of her friend Lady Wenchester. she insisting to have it finer up to equality. would see the prudence. another Welsh woman. particularly Welsh women. owing no dues to posterity. The Welsh grandmother's legacy of her estates to his girl. you are supposed to have slighted some person of their family--a tenth cousin!--anything turns . and it was not for him to hold out. Winnion Rhys the condition of the balance had been a point of vehement disputation. Adister had no ground of opposition but his own intemperateness. only half human. as the last and heaviest of the long and open feud between them. overlooking her brothers. You are by and by pierced for it as hard as they can thrust. though she detected the principal basis of it. They had no reason. chiefly. They taste a wound from the lightest touch. Between himself and Mrs. nothing solid in their whole nature. and they nurse the venom for you. despite the strong feeling he entertained for Adiante. his girl would soon discover that there was no better place to come to than her home. and the husband a gambler and a knave. And you receive your blow: you are sure to get it: the one passion of those women is for vengeance. were destined to worry him up to the end of his days. Those estates in the hands of a woman are in the hands of her husband. and just as little did you know how you displeased them. not forgetting the hour of the day to the minute of the hour. And you were long hence to be taught that in a certain past year. Their women were a composition of wind and fire. and not simply because of the blow he received in it unexpectedly from that old lady. and on a certain day of the month. It appeared to be written that the Welsh. and without much prospect of the intrusion of her infamous Hook-nose in pursuit of her at Earlsfont. but also. They called it being romantic.peculiar to her native land. Mr. they are in the hands of the Jews --or gone to smoke. Irishwomen were models of propriety beside them: indeed Irishwomen might often be patterns to their English sisterhood. And when they were gone. she would come without an asking. You pleased them you knew not how. The money wasted. Mad. Or you have incidentally compared Welsh mutton with Southdown:--you have not highly esteemed their drunken Bards:--you have asked what the Welsh have done in the world. and an unshackled man. the wife would be at peace. and deceptive down to treachery. Here she would have leisure to repent of all the steps she had taken since that fatal one of the acceptance of the invitation to the Embassy at Vienna.

I study their language. and they time the explosion. they would lay it down for him: or the wherewithal. No. There's an Arabian tale. declared or covert. 'Sir! Sir!' he said. Miss Adister. 'You will pardon me. their money. it would seem. and they have the astounding presumption to account this misreading of your look to the extent of a full justification. Or you have once looked straight at them without speaking. with more than the common allowance of kibes for treading on: a severe misfortune for them. 'The fact is. Camminy: 'You are sure you can give us the day?' 'All of it.' said Mr. for their treachery and your punishment! O those Welshwomen! The much-suffering lord of Earlsfont stretched forth his open hand. I enjoy the Triads. nothing short of righteous. I have lost excellent clients.' Caroline said to Mr. you commit these mortal injuries to the invisible among the Welsh. excepting the three-stringed harp of three generations back. or three farthings for firewood. I consume Welsh mutton with relish. yet I respect the remains of their literature.their blood. Cambrians! They have forgiven the Romans. and they are unhappily just as secretive as they are sensitive. if King Edward had not trampled . however. They find it difficult to forgive. and it's war. Some of them are hurt if you call them Welsh. they are hospitable to teach the Arab a lesson: I do believe their life is their friend's at need--seriously. And I must admit that their best friend can too easily offend them. they are Cymry.' 'And so do I' Caroline raised her eyes to imagined mountains. worth now in current value sixpence halfpenny as a curiosity. and trifles offend. Well. You dropped the spark. Now for their merits: they have poetry in them. and I had to pay the penalty. and can come down on them with a quotation from Catwg the Wise: but it so chanced that I trod on a kibe. Offend them. 'Yes. which hit an invisible son of a genie in the eye. The lawyer cracked his back to bow to the great gentleman so magnanimously humiliating himself. Miss Adister. by the way. she may have a finale in store. They are born.' he replied. they are valiant. but it smoulders. their property. apologising for some show of restlessness. Welsh blood is queer blood. You may see them quiet for years. Saxon and Norman are still their enemies. The pangs we cause them. It's true that I love wild Wales. palm upward. Adister. and you discover years after that they have chosen to foist on you their idea of your idea at the moment. that they'll keep against their own desire to heap on you everything they have--if they love you. I own. and the poor traveller suffered for it. They scout it as the original Saxon title for them. He closed it tight and smote the table. 'Like mother--and grandmother too--like daughter!' he said. and though I have never had to complain of her yet. I attend their gatherings and subscribe the expenses. of a peaceful traveller who ate a date in the desert and flung away the stone. must be horrible. If you stir their hearts you find it so. I have never understood why. and generalised again to preserve his dignity: 'They're aflame in an instant. for a testifying instrument to the plain truth of his catalogue of charges. and you at the same time have struck their imaginations. And. I married a lady from over the borders. Camminy. without our knowing it.

Camminy assured him that the description of the prince's lineaments would not be new. had a special fondness for the words of Catwg the Wise. tossing his head higher. that by coming to England she can settle the business according to her wishes in one quarter of the time it would take a Commission sent out to her--if we should be authorised to send out one. quick to unburden himself in the teeth of decorum. I conceded Arthur to her without difficulty. Adister in the person of his foreign son-in-law. with very little profit to either of the boys. he managed to check the famous delineation of the adventurer prince in which a not very worthy gentleman's chronic fever of abomination made him really eloquent. Mr. with a face of disgust reflected from the bare thought of the hideous likeness. I refuse admission to it here. At least I saved the girl from the addition of Arianrod.them into the mire so thoroughly. Mr. 'And my son-in-law! My son-in-law!' ejaculated Mr. She has given up my name. Dreading lest his client's angry heat should precipitate him on the prince again. She had a voice in David. to satisfy her pleasure in a fine sound.' had murmured Caroline. on its flight out of her father's loathing hand to the hearthstone and under his heel. Inst ead of penillions and englyns. Assisted by Caroline. they are soundheaded. derived from a miniature of her husband. The Princess Nikolas. Camminy gave an emphatic and short affirmative. 'Let her be informed. alluringly foul as it was: while they in concert drew him back to the discussion of his daughter's business. there would be days for fiery triplets. 'You know what he is like?' said Mr.' 'Adiante. and so he stimulated his amazement and abhorrence of the portrait he rather wondered at them for not desiring to have sketched for their execration of it. 'By committing the business to you. I fancy I . Adister thundered. 'Nikolas!' Mr. I recollect. Adister. with graphic touches upon the quality of the reputation he bore at the courts and in the gambling-saloons of Europe. Say the worst of them. we should hear of it at times even now. transmitted by the princess. She was too late. as he was aware. if you speak of my daughter. Prince Nikolas had been described to him before. with a knowledge that they had only to wait for the ebbing of his temper. Camminy. to the confusion of a lady's ears. and she must be known by the one her feather-brained grandmother proposed for her. reiterating prudent counsel.' said Mr. but I stood at my girl's baptism. 'Hold back that name in this house. It was. to correct his indiscretion. sir. English Christian names are my preference. It was to have been Adiante Arianrod. They have a ready comprehension for great thoughts. I had no voice in Adiante. I remember. Adister. title and all. and Adiante let her be. Can you credit it? Prince-pah! Nikolas? Have you a notion of the sort of prince that makes an English lady of the best blood of England his princess?' The lawyer had a precise notion of the sort of prince appearing to Mr.

the desperado-rascal would never be called by him. in his love for his daughter. notwithstanding her inattention to your remonstrances. whereon he by fits compared his own constitution with that of the individuals revealed to him by their acts and confidential utterances. if drawn to it to fondle it. Adister should be astonished at such a communication from the princess. however. after a year of her marriage: and that he should take it for a further outrage of his paternal sentiments. And if neither of his boys married. giving it the enigmatical faint wry pull at a corner visible at times upon the dreadful mask. But the result of the marriage dragged him bodily into the gulf: he became one of four. profoundly sighing.' he spoke in a husky voice.' The reply was: 'Dine here and sleep here. as Mr. Humour in its intense strain has a seat somewhere about the mouth of tragedy. he decided that he would have rejoiced at the news. 'Besides. The marriage had shocked and stricken him. I shall be having more of these letters. and his girl gave birth to a son! darkness rolled upon that avenue of vision. for he could not deny his daughter in the father's child. Adister added. Granting the prince a monster. it was not so cheering a piece of intelligence that involved him yet closer with that man's rank blood: it curdled his own. Adister unforcedly considered him. 'she tells me to-day she is not in a state to travel! Do you hear? Make what you can of it. Camminy saw his client redden fast and frown. descending upon a subject hateful. But the cause had been sufficiently hinted to set the lawyer staring as men do when they encounter situations of grisly humour. For him. We know not of what substance to name them.' The proud and injured gentleman had the aspect of one who receives a blow that it is impossible for him to resent. If ever he saw the child.' Mr. and the contrast is between our utter wrath and her simple exposition of the circumstances and consequences forming her laws. The subtlety of his hatred so reckoned it. There are situations which pass beyond the lightly stirred perceptive wits to the quiet court of the intellect. A trespasser and usurper-one of the demon's brood chased his very name out of Earlsfont! . he could not exclude its unhallowed father in the mother's: and of this man's child he must know and own himself the grandfather. and Mr. It would appear so to a cool observer.perceive your daughter's disposition to consider your feelings: possibly to a reluctance to do the deed unsanctioned by her father. That Mr. a goodly tree and withering many flowers. numbering the beast twice among them. should actually redden and be hoarse in alluding to it: the revelation of such points in our human character set the humane old lawyer staring at the reserve space within himself apart from his legal being. Caroline slipped away to mark a conclusion to the debate. He could not speak the shame he felt: it was literally in his flesh. some part of the little animal not his daughter's would partake of his embrace. cleaving. to be received there as an addition to our acquaintance with mankind. where certain of the passions of man's developed nature are seen armed and furious against our mild prevailing ancient mother nature. Still the marriage was but Adiante's gulf: he might be called father-in-law of her spangled ruffian. son-in-law.

he is extraordinary. though it was curious. 'You like him. For a young man educated by the Jesuits.' she said softly. He was overwhelmed by it. Adister abruptly. There's the seed. 'I dare say we could find the Jesuit in him somewhere. at the piano. 'He is not quite like what I remember of his brother Philip.' Mr. I must have you here to make sure that I am acting under good advice. very strange. and only partially at rest when he discovered Caroline in one. Anything that concerns his brother moves him. 'No.' 'The Jesuits might be of service to me just now!' Mr.' 'The youngster is used to south-western showers in that climate of his. Adister inquired. and as it visibly relieved his melancholy. and his look requesting enlightenment told her she might speak. I may join you in the afternoon. He is very strange.' 'Not of her?' said Mr. She concluded: 'At last he begged to see a portrait of her husband. Adister addressed his troubled soul. I could not exaggerate. I was a witness of the most singular scene this morning. does he not? He seems more Irish than his brother.' He wandered about the house. they tell me. 'Are you in search of him?' said she. His cousin Con O'Donnell has filled him with stuff about Ireland and England: the man has no better to do than to train a parrot. Perhaps I should say a native one. he is remarkably open. 'Anything you may be wanting at home shall be sent for. 'He talks of this at this present day?' 'It is not dead to him. He asked where the young Irishman was.' . only of her husband. What do you think of him. my love?' The judgement was not easily formed for expression. He really appears to have hoped . uncle? He is out riding. Her uncle mused awhile in a half-somnolent gloom.'Camminy. He gathered it from what he had heard. It was impossible to help being a little touched. He had not heard before of her marriage. Adister replied. He talks much more. it is like a touch on a musical instrument. looking into several rooms. You will find occupation for your gun in the north covers. You can take one of the keepers for an hour or two of shooting.' he said briskly. .' Her uncle's attentiveness incited her to describe the scene. you must try to amuse yourself. She coloured.' 'Concerns his brother?' Mr. 'Adiante. engaged upon some of her aquarelle sketches. he has not an idea of concealing them. and spoke upon another conception of them: 'How has he shown his feelings?' Caroline answered quickly: 'His love of his brother. she did it with a few vivid indications of the quaint young Irishman's manner of speech. . His feelings are strong.

she tried to guess at Mr. I desire that he should see it. . voluntarily in the hands of a monster! 'Husband!' Mr. she says! Show it him when he returns.' A shade of surprise was on Caroline's forehead. and he could disguise. For none. Adiante had been to him something beyond a creature beloved. they were like heaven and its reverse. or more. too proud to speak of the thing in sadness. Her father could not. could behold this lighted face. with the dark raised eyes and abounding auburn tresses. abjuring her Church for a little fouler than hangman to me and every gentleman alive. He had been all but utterly solitary since her marriage. for who so inflammable as he? And who. Submission to the demands of her husband's policy required it of her. Yet he was a gentleman capable of apprehending simultaneously that he sinned against his pride in the means he adopted to comfort his nature. he could not contain. O'Donnell's thoughts when doing the same. It appeared so to her now. O'Donnell the miniature of Adiante. He craved the relief it would be to him to lay his colours on the prince for the sparkling amazement of one whom. having once had the picture of the man. which neither his niece nor his lawyer had done: they never did when he painted the prince. she sat thinking more of the strange request to her to show Mr. Adister broke away from Caroline. I will order it to be placed in the armoury. he had a thirst for the kind of sympathy he supposed he would find in the young Irishman's horror at the husband of the incomparable beauty now past redemption degraded by her hideous choice. and not admire. Let him see the miniature of her this day. where the contrast of colours was in itself thrilling. not the most illustrious. Adister resolved at the same time that Patrick should have his portrait of the prince for a set-off to the face of his daughter. or claim condolence for this wound inflicted on him by the daughter he had idolised other than through the indirect method of causing people to wonder at her chosen yoke-fellow. Their stupefaction refreshed him. She had often thought that her uncle regretted his rejection of Philip. and he judged of others by himself. and gazing on it. and unbending. heavily plunged in the matter of his chagrin and grief: his unhealed wound had been scraped and strewn with salt by his daughter's letter. muttering: 'Her husband's policy!' She was used to his interjections. 'Shall I?' She had a dim momentary thought that the sight of the beautiful face would not be good for Patrick. He could have thought no man. brooded on it until it saturated him.' Mr. you have her miniature in your keeping. he was not stronger than his malady. She went to fetch the miniature. let him see the woman who could throw herself away on that branded villain called a prince. could dissociate them. according to Caroline's description. the cry of immoderate grief. he could expect to feel with him acutely. everlastingly coupled in the mind by their opposition of characters and aspects. But the wound was a perpetual sickness needing soul-medicine. she had with her glorious beauty and great-heartedness been the sole object which had ever inspirited his imagination.'Show him her portrait. Proud as he was. And to-morrow take him to look at the full-length of her before she left England and ceased to be a lady of our country. And there she was. worthy of her. though not by any consecutive process of reasoning. 'Yes. He was unstrung. lost to England and to her father and to common respect. woman or man.

She shut up the miniature-case. O'Donnell. he had the look of those who bate breath and swarm their wits to catch a sound. or wholly worship? She pitied the youth: she fancied that he would not continue so ingenuously true to his brother's love of Adiante after seeing it. in the eyes. would subdue him to distant admiration. He turned right and left a brilliant countenance that had the glitter of frost-light. in smaller letters. and the other pockets he perhaps. not to say genial triumph. like a morning of chivalrous promise. Who spoke. with a vow to come early to rest. At last he remembered that the summoning bell had been in his ears a long time back. The treasure he held declined to enter the breast-pocket of his coat. CHAPTER VII THE MINIATURE Patrick returned to Earlsfont very late. He had things to tell. and the energy of radiance. was done before the bell had rung. She necessarily supposed the excess of his peculiarities to be an effect of the portrait. Fortunately for his good social principles. These were her flitting thoughts under the spell of her queenly cousin's visage. Adiante. And there she was. justly discarded as being beneath the honour of serving for a temporary casket. if Miss Adister had been anywhere on the stairs or corridors as he rushed away to his room. he had but ten minutes to dress for dinner. His underlip dropped. and what they uttered at the repast. unless one might hope that the light above beauty distinguishing its noble classic lines. the butler at Earlsfont was a wary supervisor of his man. he had only to spring out of one suit into another. He locked it up. in spite of his punctilious respect for the bell of the house entertaining him. His name was on the envelope. Even then he had thoughts whether it might be safe. to think that the feat of grooming himself. washing. and would have had him. according to her ideas of a young . 'Shall I?' said he. he was unaware of. and waited to hand it to young Mr. without his having been sensible of any meaning in it. it sparkled and was unreceptive. the accustomed persuasive final sweep of the brush to his hair-crop. a short allowance after a heated ride across miry tracks. doing the thing he asked himself about doing tearing open the paper cover of the portrait of her who had flitted in his head for years unseen. and still more fortunately the urgency for a rapid execution of the manoeuvre prevented his noticing a large square envelope posted against the looking-glass of his toilette-table. great guest or little guest. remote but present. Patrick's linen was prepared for him properly studded. He caught sight of it first when pulling down his shirt-cuffs with an air of recovered ease. He started to and fro. if sentimentally. dressing and stripping. No wonder Miss Adister deemed him wilder and stranger than ever.half worship. he had not been out over the country for nothing. though he would have expended some of them. and under his name. and his own remarks.

He might have careered over midland flats for any susceptibility that he betrayed to the grandeur of the scenery she loved. containing his shagginess in a frogged hussar-jacket and crimson pantaloons. secresy to secresy. There goes a Welshwoman's legacy to the sea. an outcast and blackleg. when they lost. his power of imagining them wrestled with vapour. her features were lost. sunrise. in person a description of falcon-Caliban. banner. whose head is an irradiated sky. only wanting such light to show its riches. fox-eyes. his hands would be clean of it. Adister. and on the hope for the speedy coming of midnight. And without a warning. Mr. and had put up the mare. she fled. by her desire--if she has not written under compulsion of the scoundrel--intended to speed their blood-mongering. On the contrary. But if she left him blind of her. claimed his princedom on the strength of his father's murder of a reigning prince and sitting in his place for six months. a flying earth and a world wealthier than grouped history in heroic marvels: he fell back on the exultation of his having seen her. miraculous. Adister spoke by way of prelude to the sketch of 'this prince' whose title was a lurid delusion. but he had not a syllable for the sublime of the mountains. and made these gleams of her and the dark intervals his dream of the winged earth on her flight from splendour to splendour.--follow you that can. the youth whose heart is an opened mine. He had ridden to the spur of the mountains. snapping for gold all day and half the night. 'direct information that this gibbet-bird is conspiring to dethrone--they call it--the present reigning prince. and that he was now merely excited by his lively gallop to a certain degree of hard brightness noticeable in hunting men at their dinner. yet the real one. never fulfilled early enough. when the fountain of her in the miniature would be seen and drunk of at his full leisure. with hook-nose. She lifted it out of darkness with swift throbs of her heavenliness as she swam to his eyelids. The elixir in Patrick carried him higher than mountain crests. and his glorious elation of thrice man almost up to mounting spirit would be restored to make him worthy of the vision. habitually one of the dogs lining the green tables of the foreign Baths. the effort contracted his outlook. Patrick heard of a sexagenarian rake and Danube adventurer. This fellow. and one of them. and his praises of the mare likewise. he talked sheer commonplace. she left him with no lessened bigness of heart. dreamier. 'What do you say to such a nest of assassins. vanished and dazzled anew. He had decided not to be a party in the sale of either of his daughter's estates: let her choose other agents: if the iniquity was committed. She was bugle. under the spell of imagined magical beauty. not permitting another hand to touch her: all very well. Meanwhile Caroline had withdrawn and the lord of Earlsfont was fretting at his theme. with a herd of swine with devils in them!' . and chin of a beast of prey. Ultimately she fancied the miniature had been overlooked in his hurry to dress. to spend their winnings in debauchery and howl threats of suicide. asking an English gentleman to acknowledge him as a member of his family! I have. of his inmost ambition and rapture. till a merited shot from another pretender sent him to his account.man of some depth of feeling. and groomed and fed her. grizzled billow of frowsy moustache. Adiante illumined an expanded world for him.' said Mr. and the proceeds of my daughter's estates are. He frankly believed in her revelation of a greater world and a livelier earth.

Patrick stared. his hand on his glass of port. . Without knowing it he had done it and got some of the upholding strength of those noblest of honest men who not merely give souls to women--an extraordinary endowment of them--but also discourse to them with their souls. He believed in her right to choose according to her pleasure since her lover was denied her. the battle of the imagination ceased and she was fairer for him than if her foot had continued pure of its erratic step: fairer.' he thought. Small marvel that Philip had loved her. he could not answer it. yet he must have been endowed to extricate a particular meaning applied to himself out of the mass of tumbled events. until. upon terms flattering to the individual devotee. enemies and slanders and intercepted letters. Adister's having said that military training was good for all gentlemen. Sitting alone by his fire. he had shaken himself free of the exacting senses which consent to the worship of women upon the condition of their possessing all the precious and the miraculous qualities. albeit untiringly pursued amid a series of adventures.Mr. tragic episodes. he was almost interesting through his alliance:--an example of how much earth the worshipper can swallow when he is quite sincere. 'Poor fellow' Patrick cried aloud. and closely in relation to realities. Instead of his going under eclipse. The usual traverses besetting true lovers were suggested to him. and now she sank into obscurity behind the blackest of brushes. Hideous (for there was no combating her father's painting of him). Adiante was as beautiful by day as by night. for he quitted his bed passionately regretting that he had not gone through a course of drill and study of the military art. 'I could join the French Foreign Legion. her face was the vindication and the grief. The whole of it was featureless. a shifting agitation. the gift of an exquisite fragility that cannot break. Patrick in sooth was engaged in the hard attempt at the same time to do two of the most difficult things which can be proposed to the ingenuity of sensational youth: he was trying to excuse a respected senior for conduct that he could not approve. owing to the eyes he saw with. among others. and the working of his troubled brows gave the unhappy gentleman such lean comfort as he was capable of taking. He looked. There was an ebb and flow of the struggle. wild enthusiasm. There was a riddle to be answered in her cutting herself away from Philip. He remembered Mr. Camminy kept his head bent. he gazed at her for hours and bled for Philip. in short. representing her incredible husband. He rejected them in the presence of the beautiful inscrutable. and now by force of some natural light she broke through the ugly mist and gave her adored the sweet lines and colours of the features he had lost. able to say to himself that he saw her clearly as though the portrait was in the palm of his hand. the beauty of his lady eclipsed her monster. Patrick accepted Adiante's husband: the man was her husband. and drooped on a fit of tears. The sleep he had was urgently dream-ridden to goals that eluded him and broadened to fresh races and chases waving something to be won which never was won. while he did inward battle to reconcile his feelings with the frightful addition to his hoard of knowledge: in other words. he sought strenuously to mix the sketch of the prince with the dregs of the elixir coming from the portrait of Adiante. The riddle of her was more burdensome in the daylight.

'The Greek. the youthful figure of Adiante was ominously encompassed.' said she. she had not the same secret. and reserved the other. fresh in her love of Philip. And not thinking of her pride. and moreover he fondled an absurd notion that the miniature would be entrusted to him for a time. but I do. was not the same person to him. the veil covering the canvas of late removed. and the end of it. she keeps her mouth shut. Mr. like a bubble bursting up from the heart in her breast.' She named the famous artist who had painted it.' He would not be instigated to speak. Caroline stood with Patrick before the portrait of her cousin. and it means a thought. she was beautiful differently. if it be fair to prove him so deeply.' 'The same?' said Caroline. The eyes are not the same. and the means and the aim. and was almost a possession. Guns and spears and swords overhead and about. true to his brother though he was (admiration of a woman does thus influence the tides of our blood to render the noblest of us guilty of some unconscious wavering of our loyalty). for himself. She part smiles. It's the same colour. He asked her to tell him the Church whose forms of faith the princess had embraced. he had already lived through a life of emotions with the miniature. and on another surging of his admiration launched the resolve that he would serve her blindly. 'think it a living image of her as she was then. She blushed. O'Donnell?' she cried. the portrait had been taken from one of his private rooms and placed in the armoury.He sighed. Adister's order. her face and neck. but there's the dimple. Adiante at eighteen.' said he. How. 'The bit of work done in Vienna. She carries herself like a great French lady. he did not think of. 'You do not admire it. She did not understand it at all. and could besides clasp the frame. and here was he. There was she. the full length of her. Patrick's 'Ah' was unsatisfactory. You can't see her there and not be sure she had a heart. Patrick dedicated the full-length of Adiante to Philip. She answered that it was the Greek Church. By right he should have loved the portrait best: but he had not seen it first. dark eyebrows and fair hair. when. 'As this. she expected him to show a sign of appreciation. where he's waiting. And again. She's tall.' . without one question. and heaven and a great heart would show the way. and nothing beats that.' said he. Obediently to Mr. 'Oh. She thinks of her walk. The pain of the thought of relinquishing it was the origin of this foolishness.' 'We consider it not to be compared to this. where. 'Do you admire that so much?' 'I do. That's how she looked when she was drawing on her gloves with good will to go out to meet him. Presently she said: 'It was a perfect likeness.' He tapped on the left side. gazing harder at the portrait. 'We.

He was dead struck when the shaft struck him. and those are your mountains. Jenny at the door.' 'Jenny Williams?' 'The one! I had it from her. and half my property. I've an idea it ought to be given to Philip."' Caroline faltered: 'Your brother does not know?' 'Pity him. And Mrs.' Patrick added hurriedly. that's next to her soul. watching the rain. Yours has a landscape.' 'But why do you like that better?' said Caroline. But mine has her all to herself while she's thinking undisturbed in her boudoir. I've made acquaintance with the country. It's hopeless now. for you'll get nothing more of her." She'll keep the poor fellow a subaltern all his life. She would have had him. and the service." She hates that marriage. I have it on authority. I can tell him a trifle to help him over his agony. 'Her own old nurse. Only he might have the miniature for his bride. Miss Adister.' 'Ladies?' Caroline inquired by instinct. 'Just to break the shock 'twill be to my brother. 'The eyes there don't seem to say. if he would. she would. "I'm yours to make a hero of you. I caught the print of it on my ride yesterday. I'm certain she would. His blow 's to come. 'he married an heiress and sank his ambition for distinction like a man who has finished his dinner. I have her and her thoughts. That's love! So I determined the night after I'd shaken his hand I'd be off to Earlsfont and try my hardest for him. deeming it his wilfulness. if she hadn't feared he'd be talked of as Captain Con has been--about the neighbourhood. There'd be little use in proposing it.' said Patrick. because he. 'And charming. Destiny directed me. I was with him a couple of hours and he never mentioned a word of it. nor did Captain Con. I went to.' 'You went to Jenny's inn?' 'The Earlsfont Arms. And how she loves her darling Miss Adiante! She won't hear of "princess." But look. He can't or he 'd have spoken of it to me. and that's worth a kingdom. and say. She caught the likeness to Philip on a lift of her eye. and some French cousins we have. Miss Adister. She was all for my brother Philip.' he drew forth from under his waistcoat the miniature. Philip might have one. to make it right with her parents. and very soon we sat conversing like old friends. We were . She calls him "Our handsome lieutenant.'Perhaps not. I mean. Patrick put out a finger. I like it better. "Keep it. 'what don't they say here! It's a bright day for the Austrian capital that has her by the river Danube. 'real dear girls.' He craned his head round to woo some shadow of assent to the daring suggestion. We talked of Ireland.' 'What authority?' said Caroline coldly. If I could hand him this.

I'm for union. notwithstanding her fancied perception of his Jesuitry: his look and his voice were persuasive. . and so has Philip: though the worst is. and if he does worse now he's not entirely to blame. He wanted just that English wife to steady him and pour drops of universal fire into him. And that was the main reason. Well. And. a very . only there should be justice. . to keep him face to face with the world. and she leans to him. Miss Adiante has a mighty soul. too. Caroline's inward smile threw a soft light of humour over her features at the simple cunning of his wind-up to the lecture on his country's case. Ah! she would have kept my brother temperate in his notions and his plans. for the reason that she'd been reviewing his freakish hops from Philip to Ireland and to Adiante. her uncle entered the armoury. Philip abused for fortune-hunting. she said. letting him be true to his country in a fair degree. Something bigger than an island. then. for men of our blood. For he's an Irishman and a Catholic. so I set to work. It's the bleeding to death of our land! Transactions from hand to hand of warm human flesh-nothing else will do: I mean. I see what she could have done there. and his bit of earth! If you knew what we feel for him! I'm a landlord. if we don't forget our duty at home. Who is it then opposed the proper union of the two islands? Not Philip. If I might take him this . and an Irishman there is a barrow trolling a load of grievances. Ay. He did his best. Miss Deenly. they're likely to drive him out of the army into politics and Parliament. our country has no hearth-fire. She would have held him to his profession. and the family won't have him. It startled her to surprise. Ah. I mean. but I'm one with my people about evictions. Miss Adister? Because we've no centre of home life: the core has been taken out of us. I saw the way to bring her out. has to be served in our days: that is. she calls her. As for the religion. and she felt herself to be a piece of damask. but she would have kept him straight. Oh dear! She's a friend worth having. and Patrick was pleading still. She says. his change of sentiment toward Adiante after the tale told him by her old nurse Jenny. stood for proof of a generous manliness. We Irish take strong root. and she was up in defence of her darling. Before she had replied. through an agent. The misfortune is. how and by what profitless ingenuity he contrived to weave them together. and a little knowledge to make allowance for the natural cravings of a different kind of people. she has brave ideas. he'll be dashing himself upon rocks sure to shiver him. that when he learns the total loss of her on that rockpromontory. when it came on him in that undeniable shape of two made one. ready to tell me anything to get me to think well of her. and I suppose that inter-marriages are good for both. Not a soldier alive knows the use of cavalry better than my brother. And why absentees.soon playing at old cronies over past times. if you think of it. Nor was she unmoved. and he offers himself to the handsomest and sweetest of yours. And honest rent paid over to absentees. Poor Paddy. his love of his brother was deep. and wondering in a different kind of surprise. and his pig. seems like flinging the money that's the sweat of the brow into a stone conduit to roll away to a giant maw hungry as the sea. but not an old rainpipe and spout. But here comes a man. which led her to perceive a similar cunning simplicity in his identification of it with Philip's. why Miss Adiante broke with him and went abroad her dear child wouldn't have Mr. ?' Patrick pleaded with the miniature raised like the figure of his interrogation. they could each have practised their own: her father would have consented to the fact. There's my fear. the boldest and handsomest of his race. lost to Ireland.

When he was alone his ardour of gratefulness enabled him to see into her uncle's breast: the inflexible frigidity. Caroline will drive there. 'I presumed to ask for it. sat down and shut his eyes. you think him a devil. and ran it on to. . for he was clear-eyed when his feelings were not over-active. Adister. She was a great deal to Philip--three parts of his life.' 'That!' said Mr. five miles distant. sir. lasting regrets and remorse. she said on an impulse. the stately generosity. !' he could not continue his thought upon what he might be destined to wish for. It could be returned after a time. and how the statue rocks there. for to-morrow I must be off to my brother. the compassion for Philip in kinship of grief and loss. He turned to the virgin Adiante. He has nothing of her to call his own. 'If you think of hunting to-day. Miss Adister. sir. To disentangle herself. He saw too. oppressed by the mighty gift. the narrow pedestal whereon the stiff figure of a man of iron pride must accommodate itself to stand in despite of tempests without and within. he would like to have a bit of the wreck. . O'Donnell begs to have the miniature for his brother. Adister did not wait for it. I should be glad to take him something. Go and choose your horse.' said Patrick. 'I shall be glad to join you. and a devil in the family may bring us to ashes. He gazed at his idol of untouched eighteen.' Mr. 'A good first cousin to one. sir. when it pleases him to visit me. . discarding the sight of the princess.fiery dye.' 'Take it. the angry dignity.' Patrick bowed. He is ignorant about the princess as yet. Her voice shook: 'My uncle loves those who loved her. The meet is at eleven. Adister waved his hand hastily. He looked vacantly at Patrick. to carry it to Philip. 'Keep it safe. 'Old houses are doomed to burnings. how much more pitiably than the common sons of earth who have the broad common field to fall down on and our good mother's milk to set them on their legs again.' He could see she was trembling.' Patrick swung instantly to Mr. And some day . fetching a breath. I shan't be a pleasant messenger to him. 'Some day I shall be happy to welcome your brother. 'When you find a man purely destructive. Adister.' Mr.' he said. watchful for a hint to seize the connection. we have not many minutes to spare before we mount. 'I owe this to you. 'I haven't the word to thank you with.' Patrick consulted her on a glance for counsel. desperately 'Mr.' Patrick replied. don't you?' he said.

' said Mr. and a single one of them does not offer space. . You are a judge of horses. until your power is respected. Here we are fettered by ancestry and antecedents. When you are feared you will be on your mettle. It would require money and a navy. you would have splendid pastures over there. particularly old artillerymen. Our men are born for conquest. purchasing some thousands of acres to establish a legal footing there. 'Leave Europe behind you. you might raise a famous breed. except the last one. Patrick had no immediate destination in view. and as leader to have dominion. They were answered. 'You increase your colony from the mother country in the ratio of your prosperity. I would try my fortune yonder. Half-breeds are the ruin of colonists. There are--Mr. and hunting the bear and buffalo. and his estate. but owing you service. knowing them. would be my choice: young fellows and boys among them.--'the Pacific Islands. I should not doubt the result. it would suit our English stock. Women would have to be taken. and his brother's prospects in the army. to advise him. much marvelling. and begin by taking over two or three hundred picked Irish and English--have both races capable of handling spade and musket.' 'They fight sir' 'It is hardly to be specified in the calculation. The estate you have inherited is not binding on you.CHAPTER VIII CAPTAIN CON AND MRS. They will favour you with provocation. owners of the soil. I stood condemned to waste my youth in idle parades.' He mused. as a young man. Had I to recommence without those encumbrances. and checking the trot of his horse. Soldiery who have served their term. 'Undoubtedly. Adister questioned Patrick familiarly about his family. You can realise it. Adister warming. and it is want of action and going physically forward that makes us a rusty people.' The lordly gentleman plotted out a scheme of colonisation and conquest in that region with the coolness of a practised freebooter. 'South America is the quarter I should decide for. but they will soon be snapped up by the European and North American Governments.' 'Owners of the soil. Mr. 'who does not mean to be a leader.' he said. 'Try South America. 'No young man is worth a job. and whither he intended first to direct his travels: questions which Patrick understood to be kindly put for the sake of promoting conversation with a companion of unripe age by a gentleman who had wholesomely excited his blood to run.' rejoined Patrick. and there is a necessity for the extension of your territory. Adister's intonation told of his proposing a wretched alternative. ADISTER O'DONNELL Riding homeward from the hunt at the leisurely trot of men who have steamed their mounts pretty well. We were conquerors here. supposing myself to have under my sole command a trained body of men of English blood--and Irish. you ride well. The air is fine.

the lord of Earlsfont having delivered his mind. the prospect was fair. that bard and priest and prince. right. With a woman. you hear victorious lawlessness appealing solemnly to God the law. and a minute made it happily too late for the sarcastic bolt. and a righteous holding. and divine prescription. Glad that his tongue had been kept from wagging. to crown her queen there. roared to-arms in the beacon-flames from ridge to peak: and down they poured. preferred the charms of society to bold adventure.' 'I could expect such a remark from a rebel. Australia is not comparable with it. 'I can show the same in my country. and back they were pushed by the inveterate coloniser--stationing at threatened points his old 'artillerymen' of those days and so it ends. And where colonisations have begun without system. it astonished me that no Englishman had cast an eye on so inviting a land. strangest of all. . he trotted along beside his host in the dusky evening over the once contested land where the gentleman's forefathers had done their deeds and firmly fixed their descendants. or else the series of pictures projected by the troops of sensations running through him were not of a solidity to support any structure of philosophy. They were too hard to think of. Patrick was too young to philosophise upon his ideas.' 'Everything has been crushed there barring the contrary opinion. the conqueror's foot stamps on them. sir. they tumble into Republics. consistency.' 'I'm only interpreting the people. and he put them aside as mere titles employed for the uses of a police and a tribunal to lend an appearance of legitimacy to the decrees of them that have got the upper hand. like yonder embers of the winter sunset before advancing night: and to morrow the beacon-heaps are ashes. But where dwelt the woman possessing majesty suitable to such a dream in her heart or her head? The best he had known in Ireland and in France.' said Patrick. but the trot was resumed.' Patrick would have liked to fling a word in about the Englishman's cast of his eye upon inviting lands. to the abstractions. He kept it down by turning the whole hubbub within him to the practical contemplation of a visionary South America as the region for him and a fighting tenantry.We are on ground. Mr. so he abandoned the puzzle of fitting them to men's acts and their consciences. An insurrectionary rising of his breast on behalf of his country was the consequence. though rather in name than in spirit. with a difference. A remainder of dull red fire prolonged the half-day above the mountain strongholds of the former owners of the soil.' 'When I was in South America. and without hard fighting to teach the settlers to value good leadership and respect their chiefs. justice. and grappling natives never wanting for fierceness. O'Donnell. which my forefathers contested sharply and did not yield.' 'The owners of the soil had to do that. upon which prince and bard and priest. are as naught against him. the wind scatters them.' 'Jump out of that tinder-box as soon as you can. He reverted.' 'Considerably to your benefit. holy poetry. They go.

Imagination would not have stirred for a thousand fleeting hares: and principally. and the man who has her hasn't a share in that!' Thus. considering that both the gentlemen attending her. He could very well have seen the matter he disliked in a man that he disliked. this time without penetrating. it's queer counsel. it seemed to Patrick that the intelligence would have to be communicated. He was further comforted by hearing the stationmaster's exclamation of astonishment and pleasure at the sight of the squire 'in his place' handling the reins. slightly dashed with rigour on the part of the regnant lady. quitted her table with shouts at the announcement of his name. and her husband hauled him in unwashed before her. the blank of the usual ceremonial phrases would have caused him to fancy himself an intruder courteously dismissed. Had not Caroline assured him at the leave-taking between them that he had done her uncle great good by his visit. thought he. From the moment when he beheld Mr. choosing to be poor rather than call her forth. throwing in the ghost of a sigh for sympathy. nor was he invited to come again. which is not to be wondered at. where he created a joyful confusion. because he was conscious that no form of woman would anywhere come of them. never more to enter the grand old Hall. she was nowhere in the ambient air. crying . so did his acquisition of a particular fact destructive of hope solidify them about it as he travelled back: in other words. like the enchanted bares of fairyland. when you're bound half to kill a fellow. but he could not conjure her out of space.All the same. incurably Celtic as he was. He was in truth digesting with difficulty. and a manly fellow. for bad news than snapping fire and feinting.' he thought. he hurried from the terminus to Philip's hotel. 'Poor old Philip!' was his perpetual refrain. they were digesting what they had taken in. but the father of Adiante had touched him with the gift of the miniature. as they were in the habit of doing. he could think of her as being in the city where she had been painted. tempting him to pursue. it may be. Adister's phaeton mounting a hill that took the first leap for the Cambrian highlands. as must be the case when it is allotted to the brains to absorb what the soul abhors. instead of turning me off to decipher a bit of Egyptian on baked brick. and gave him a single nod from the phaeton-box for a goodbye. scarcely one of his 'ideas' darted out before Patrick. Adister. and here's her portrait taken in her last blush. where he had left him. thought he. Adister drove him to the station in the early morning. Woman was married. up to his arrival in London. and he kept the secret. at some turn of the chase. she had the ring on her finger! He could at his option look on her in the miniature. and changing into the form of woman ever. that we should set to work by buying a bit of land to win a clean footing to rob our neighbours: and his brains took another shot at Mr. Secretly she was a feeling that lay half slumbering very deep down within him. For as he had travelled down to Earlsfont in the state of ignorance and hopefulness. Patrick was not asked to postpone his departure from Earlsfont. Philip and her husband. 'But why not a warm word. Determined that bang it should be. and was thence despatched to the house of Captain Con O'Donnell. the girl you loved is married. bearing the liquid brains of that young condition. Mr. Bang is better. 'Philip. which had not been witnessed for many a day and so it appeared that the recent guest had been exceptionally complimented.

madam. and don't be smirking at the glass. my boy. the errant returned. in decency. hurrying Patrick on as he spoke. 'and so 's Patrick. We've waited for him gaping. if you please. and then the fellow vanished. made a meal of and swallowed up. Here we are. The race is for domestic peace. equal at both ends.' said the captain. I married her at forty. You've the right style for her. 'Con!' she called to her chattering husband. Your legs will be under the table during . And mind you don't set me off talking overmuch downstairs. 'And I'll accompany the boy to hurry him on. when a woman has reached her perfect development.' said the captain. Off to the basin.' she rejoined. I sacrifice everything I can for it. The portmanteau opens easy. give me the key. or else a great gap commanded in the service of her dishes. You dip your hands and face. Captain Con pitched the contents of the portmanteau right and left. and the dinner to be delayed in middle course.that the lost was found. for he forgot to give us his address in town. when he whispered: 'Out with your key. burned. 'Tis the secret of my happiness. Quick! the door's shut on rosy Mary. the Prodigal Pat recovered by his kinsman! and she had to submit to the introduction of the disturber: and a bedchamber had to be thought of for the unexpected guest.' 'Where are those rascally dress-boots of mine?' cried Patrick. till he had him out of the dining-room. With your permission I'll venture an opinion that he'll go and dabble his hands and sit with us as he is. you know. and if we can scramble you into your evening-suit quick we shall heal the breach in the dinner. 'Tell me now. thanks to the stars. she is an excellent good woman. and leans a trifle more to ceremonies than to substance. under the earth or the water. and here's hot water in tripping Mary's hands. She named the bedchamber to a footman. your necktie's as neat as a lady's company-smile. kidnapped. and the room's lighted. for the once. he stood before us for an hour or so. and warranted not to relax before the evening 's over. my boy. not pacified beneath her dignity. I'll have out the dress. And where have you been the while?' 'I'll tell you by and by.' Patrick's transformation was rapid enough to satisfy the impatient captain. She acknowledged Patrick's profound salute and his excuses with just so many degrees in the inclining of her head as the polite deem a duty to themselves when the ruffling world has disarranged them. 'Never mind the boots. and either the guest permitted to appear at her table in sooty day-garb.' 'To be sure. vexatious extreme for a lady composed of orderliness. as it happens. and her husband corrected between the discussions concerning the bedchamber. We fancied him gone. I talk in her presence like the usher of the Court to the judge. who said: 'You'll tell her you couldn't sit down in her presence undressed.' 'Let it be so. my boy: and mind. 'Tis the secret of my happiness.' said Patrick. worthy of all respect: but formality's the flattery she likes: a good bow and short speech. 'we are in England.

dinner. for moulding her at all was out of the question. to effect a conjunction. Adister O'Donnell: and that's best rolled out to Mistress. She's a worthy woman. I have to attend to 'm. and may as well have a place to name to her. and that 's a wonder in a woman chaste as ice. for where one won't and can't. she's a virtuous woman and an affectionate wife. and we'll institute a rummage up here between that and the procession to the drawing-room. to excuse the gash you've made in her dinner. and England's the foremost country of the globe. and I had to take her shaped as she was. Patrick. and only to be connected with such a country by the tail of it is a special distinction and a comfort for us. it's a perfect trick of harlequinade. Talk to her of the ancestral hall--it stands as it was on the day of its foundation. come along. Captain Con thrust him in. I do respect her. 'Twill come best from you.' 'You've been visiting Earlsfont? Whack! but that's the saving of us! Talk to her of her brother he sends her his love. rolled in a dirty shirt!' Patrick seized the boots and tugged them on. madam. and we're in a mess already. poor t' other must. we're that part of the kite!--but. Out with Earlsfont early after that. indirect communication with heaven. the lord of Earlsfont. you'll study her. it should be--madam. and prepare for a cold bath the first five minutes. by the way. my boy. What did you go down there for? But don't stand answering questions. and she'll own it after a dose of Earlsfont. half enclosing her high narrow forehead. if she wasn't cut in bog-root. But say. Here they are. Consider her for my sake. Madam. before you out with it. straight bridge of nose descended prominently over her sunken . She hasn't a taste for jokes. like the good woman she is to good men. Her disciplined husband signified an equal mixture of contrition and astonishment at the passing of time. somewhere. but she was married at forty. saying 'Earlsfont. As to the dressing. or the union's a mockery. she entertains Father Boyle heartily. Anyhow. and unfortunate females too have a friend in her. a real friend--that they have. Just wait about five minutes to let her punish us. then. where you'll be examined head to foot. devil a doubt of it. Don't heed her countenance at the going in: we've got the talisman. Con. She resembled her brother. And. in her remarkable height and her calm air of authority and self-sustainment. both of 'm. 'Tis the secret of my happiness. a pale. where have you been? She'll be asking. He fell to work upon his plate in obedience to the immediate policy dictated to him. I have to be politic and give her elbow-room for her natural angles. she's Mrs. and the soft parts of me had to be the sufferers. and she chastises absurdities. Mistress Adister O'Donnell's head rounded as by slow attraction to the clock. All these things are trifles to an unmarried man. thin. call her. addressing her. The unbending English lady contrasted with her husband so signally that the oddly united couple appeared yoked in a common harness for a perpetual display of the opposition of the races. and doesn't frown to see me turn off to my place of worship while she drum-majors it away to her own.' Priming his kinsman thus up to the door of the diningroom. she's not Mrs. From beneath a head-dress built of white curls and costly lace. and I'd like to see the man to favour me with an opportunity of proving it on him! So you'll not forget. she's a charitable soul. She was cast in bronze at her birth. remember.

. 'Good horses in the stable too. Perhaps. for languages and laughter. . Patrick was endeavouring to spare his brother a mention of Earlsfont before they had private talk together. and what he had done there. and he was irritable to hear why Patrick had gone off to Earlsfont. By this time. though not malevolently to command: as the portal of some snow-bound monastery opens to the outcast. long after five minutes had elapsed.cheeks to thin locked lips. requiring but to be laid at her length for transport to the cover of the tomb. The life sufficed to her. Patrick addressed Mrs. the frost presiding at the table was fast withering Captain Con. anything for warmth. bidding it be known that the light across the wolds was not deceptive and a glimmer of light subsists among the silent within. Mrs.' she said. He certainly was a man of speech.' said the captain. and crushed it. and it could not be disputed that there was rigour in the beneficent laws imposed upon him by his wife. or child's hiding-place. .' said the captain. enjoyable in pictures. and he cried to himself: Hats and crape-bands! mightily struck by an idea that he and his cousins were a party of hired mourners over the meat they consumed. Now Captain Con was by nature ruddy as an Indian summer flushed in all its leaves. sharply nodding. His efforts to fish the word out of Patrick produced deeper crevasses in the conversation. and did not trouble him. She was like a marble effigy seated upright. and the having fearfully to contain himself for the greater number of the hours of the day. 'Do not excuse yourself at all. as Patrick said of him to Caroline Adister. 'The desert where you 've come from 's good. fathered the sentiment of revolt in his bosom. or on skates. and candour of spirit shone through the transparency she was. if that mild taper could be said to shine in proof of a vitality rarely notified to the outer world by the opening of her mouth. Adister: 'I have hardly excused myself to you. his genius for humour and passion for sly independence came up and curled away like the smoke of the illicit still. chiefly then. was the character it expressed. He could worm with a smile quite his own the humour out of men possessing any. Mental directness. otherwise nipping. and the adventures he had tasted on the road. He answered neither to a dip of the hook nor to a pull. he was a bard without a theme.' Her head was aloft in dumb apostrophe of wearifulness over another of her husband's topics. Adister O'Donnell ejaculated: 'Wine!' for a heavy comment upon one of his topics. madam. of no greater breadth than her principal feature. for the preservation of the domestic felicity he had learnt to value. Her aspect suggested the repose of a winter landscape. The corners of his face had everywhere a frank ambush. Philip saw that Patrick had no desire to spread. and even under rigorous law. wherein the fanciful discern fine sprites indulging in luxurious grimaces at a government long-nosed to no purpose. .

he went down to look at the brav old house of the Adisters.' The captain was permitted to discourse as he pleased: his wife was wholly given to the recent visitor to Earlsfont. how at half-past ten he would be a free man. so he had to do likewise. 'Didn't I say so? Patrick's a hero for love or war.' said Mrs. and I took the liberty of calling on Mr. bitterly regretting that. according to the convention. He overhauled his plotting soul publicly: 'Why don't you out with it yourself!' and it was wonderful why he had not done so. And that's witness to me that you may count on him for what the great Napoleon called two-o'clock-in-the-morning courage. Adister. That's rare.' the Captain bit his nail harder. And for when he added: 'The boy's fresh from Earlsfont.The captain shivered. At last she rose. gunpowder.' his wife sedately remarked to Patrick. and I had a very kind reception. and away before a second snap of the fingers to where the great big bursting end of all things for you lies crouching like a Java-Tiger--a ferocious beast painted undertaker's colour--for a leap at you in particular out of the dark. I was down there. with . But Captain Con rather shame-facedly explained to Patrick that it was a sham departure. My brother Edward is well?' 'I had the happiness to be told that I had been of a little service in cheering him. coat and sword-belt and shako. my dear.' 'And brings a message of his love to you. we had a good day with the hounds. save that he was prone to petty conspiracy. He stood neat and trim from the silk socks to the sprig of necktie in six minutes by my watch. coming from him. and was escorted to the door by all present. and an excellent maiden. and Patrick replied: 'The captain is giving a free translation. Philip. they had to follow without a single spin to the claretjug: he closed the door merely to state his position. madam. boots and trowsers. and the trumpet springs you to your legs in a trice. 'You have a message for me?' she asked. and had thought reasonably that the revelation would be damp. letting her eyes dwell on the young man. Adister. and one twirl to the whiskers. She resumed: 'You have the art of dressing in a surprisingly short time. to which his wife honourably adhered. her dear Edward's mainstay in his grief. as regarded his share of it. that's bravery. 'You have seen my brother Edward. Thereupon he apologised to the brothers. and you're buried within in a dream of home. We hunted. her second brother. whom she informed that Caroline was the youngest daughter of General Adister. my dear. not too common even in his immortal army:--when it's pitch black and frosty cold. and was nobly welcomed and entertained.' 'There!' exclaimed Captain Con: for no man can hear the words which prove him a prophet without showing excitement. Napoleon knew the thing. and he was moved by the silvery tremulousness of her voice.' 'Our last Christmas at Earlsfont was a sad meeting for the family.--never waiting an instant to ask what's the matter and pretend you don't know. my hand's on the boy's back for that. and made a vast impression. I think I remember hearing that you go there at Christmas.' 'I can believe it. and Patrick has it.

She said: 'Yes. Adister accepted her husband's proffered arm unhesitatingly at the appointed stroke of the clock. and toast the old country and open their hearts.' 'My dear boy. and made his way to the cabin of Captain Con. As soon as the brothers were alone. Mrs. . who would hardly have been his dupe to suppose him indifferent and his love of Adiante dead. as if she had never heard him previously enunciate the formula. It's too late now. full of solicitude for the steps of the admirable lady now positively departing. and promising them they should sit in their shirts and stretch their legs.' Philip replied.' 'You don't mind it?' 'That's old news.' 'He's a prince. 'well. all's over. his could be no house for claret.' he said to Philip over his shoulder. . Philip. 'You can find your way to my cabin. Philip?' 'You wouldn't have me caring for a married woman?' 'She has a perfect beast for a husband. followed in wonderment by Patrick. and seeing if I couldn't do something. I thought you looked wretched. Philip tossed his head.' 'Ah! And what worse.' 'So I hear. 'But why did you go down there?' 'I went. can you be having to think of?' 'Affairs. . CHAPTER IX .good wine in the cellar. I went .' in agreement with him. I've worse than that to think of. asking him. Patrick.' 'I'm sorry she didn't make a better choice. had not the thought flashed on him a prospect of retaining the miniature for his own. he hated himself for his bluntness.' said Patrick. and I went with an idea of learning where she was.' 'You don't care for her any more. or for long in his custody. no later than the minute pointing to the time for his deliverance. upon his pious vociferation that there should be no trifling with her hours of rest. 'What does it mean?' Patrick fired his cannon-shot: 'She's married!' Consulting his feelings immediately after. Philip laid his hand on Patrick.

This introductory ode to Freedom was his throwing off of steam. no rats. Decency's a dirty petticoat in the Garden of Innocence. be any the wiser of them. though it's a despotism with an iron bridle on the tongue outside to a foot of the door. And now cigars. Here. except caper. Christendom hasn't such a man as your cousin Con for feeling himself a pig-possessed all the blessed day. acting the part of somebody else. I'm that pig disgorging the spirit of wickedness from his poor stomach. he can't enter here. do all you like. there are the boxes. and there 's a small square of lead between the tiles outside for that. and so he saw through Philip. that pitches Kings' heads into the basket like autumn apples. after tenderly pulling the door to and making sure it was shut. and their mothers and grandmothers. The captain's cabin was the crown of his house-top. smoke ascends. as I have had it on me. and no one save rosy Mary. He rejoined his cousins. and devil a constable at the keyhole. because. 'any tale you've a mind for-infamous and audacious! You're licensed by the gods up here. Pat. and may laugh at them too. and the heartier it is the greater the exemption. Here we roll like dogs in carrion. chirping variations on it. horrid boiling hissing dew of the agony of transformation. scum. but fearful lest either of his cousins should usurp the . when she came upon her morning business to clean and sweep. and eased myself mightily there. I can't smoke till I have done steaming. could be practised. I'm froth. if the fit seizes ye. You're in the stronghold defying him. the wretch. and the capital of the British Empire below me. to my own music. now Pat. with a right revolutionary hurling chorus. calling them liberty. Pat. boys. the foretaste of what he contained. and no one to sniff at our coats. Or one of your hymns in Gaelic sung ferociously to sound as horrid to the Saxon.THE CAPTAIN'S CABIN Patrick left his brother at the second flight of stairs to run and fling on a shooting-jacket. you can unfold. full of incitement to the legs and arms to swing and set him up for a Sultan. there are the bowls. My praties are ready for peelin'.' The captain drooped to represent the state of the self-relieving victim of the evil one. here we flout reason. and off with your buckram. to put us in tune. according to the convention. as it is known to the whole world. and he was up among the chimneys. For the moment. in her sense of smell. I'll say that for the Government. Here we take our indemnity for subjection to the tyrannical female ear. Naked we stand. You're in the annexe of Erin. His reign 's not for ever. explode. Here we sing treason. into which he stuffed his treasure. I'll sit awhile silently for the operation. after one peep that eclipsed his little dream of being allowed to keep it. he would say to his friends and fellow-sinners.' he cried. 'Now Phil. if the spirit of the jig comes upon you with violence. night is out season at half-past ten. We're pots that knock the lid and must pour out or boil over and destroy the furniture. a builder's addition to the roof. and attired in a green silken suit of airy Ottoman volume. and talk like copious rivers meandering at their own sweet will. where the detestable deeds he revelled in. boys! we're not afraid of nature. unbosom. pipes. Arctic to freeze the boldest bud of liberty! I'd like a French chanson from ye. till it takes me a quarter of an hour of my enfranchisement and restoration of my natural man to know myself again. I am. if ever they were in this world! Chuck wigs from sconces.

So one day Maen had an insult put on him. to be repaid them. who was born dumb. he rattled away sympathetically with his posture in melancholy: 'Ay. and calling it life! There's no life save the eternal. and in a thundering fury Maen burst his tongue-tie. they're jaws and hindquarters. whether you remember Maen. when it 's conversation I want. They just keep their skeleton shape as they are.chair and thwart his chance of delivering himself. Phil. and there's none in the modern drivel about where we're going and what we came out of.--You're not drinking! Are you both of ye asleep? why do ye leave me to drone away like this. Pat. I'll pay double for freepeaty any day. when you see the big wigs filing up and down the thoroughfares with a great advertisement board on their shoulders. where the grey grass nods and seems to know the wind and have a whisper with it. like the son of Eremon that I am. pigs and prophets. Hear that! No. There's been no harper in my instance but plenty of ruffians to swear I'm too comfortable to think of my country. I love the grass. no: devotion's good policy. No. instead of to the . 'tis the shadow that crosses the grass. rolling over and over. princes and people. calling it life! And what hope have we of reading the mystery? All we can see is the straining of the old fellow's hams to push his old snout deeper into the gobble. administrators. The whisky you've got between you 's virgin of the excise. for the turf mound protects them from troubles: 'tis the nurse to that delicate old infant!--Waves of the sea. proclaiming no information to the multitude. I love an old turf mound. as in the days of our first parents. as if an answer from above would be vouchsafed to their impudence! They haven't the first principles of good manners. No wonder they call it an age of despair. and nearer to the Arch-devourer Time than anything I can imagine: except that with a little exertion you can elude him. Father Boyle's got the truth. Flesh is less than grass. and why? because he was told. and the Court shouted Lavra Maen: and he had to go into exile. thinking a man without a tongue harmless. we're poor creatures. but leave the puzzle to the priest. we 're waves of the sea. about the big chief lying underneath in the last must of his bones that a breath of air would scatter. but a blank note of interrogation addressed to Providence. my sons. we all go into it. Pat. and Cova spared the dumb boy. and assigns at compound interest. of ancient times maybe and most like. where he married in the middle of delicious love-adventures the beautiful Moira through the cunning of Craftine the harper. and had for his tutors Ferkelne the bard and Crafting the harper. my lads? No? I'm fortified up here to stand a siege in my old round tower. did I say? We're wash in a hogtrough for Father Saturn to devour. And some of 'm in a rage bawl the answer for themselves. their heirs. and so you may say to Time for his dealing with us: so let it be a lesson to you not to bother your wits. Or are you for claret. executors. big chief and suckling babe. have no fear. 'Do they hear that? Lord! but wouldn't our old Celtic fill the world with poetry if only we were a free people to give our minds to 't. and 'twas this for certain: a ruffian fellow of the Court swore he couldn't mention the name of his father. I could sit and watch grassblades for hours. who's a gormandising animal behind his decency. victors and vanquished. as fools do: being one of their savings-bank tricks. before the fig-leaf?--and you might have that for scroll and figure on the social banner of the hypocritical Saxon.' The captain holloaed. at pleasant Dinree: he was grandson of Leary Lore who was basely murdered by his brother Cova. Lavra Con! Con speaks at last! I don't ask you. and the ridiculous curl of a tail totally devoid of expression! You'll observe that gluttons have no feature. He understands it. There 's harmony in his elocution. which is the beginning and end of 'm.

never doubt it. What am I here but a discontented idle lout crooning over the empty glories of our isle of Saints! You feel them. And there he is. Write me the history of the Enniskillens. Pat. when they 're off at the charge! And you'll oblige me with the tale of Fontenoy. For. But she reined you in when you were a real warhorse ramping and snorting flame from your nostrils. and I dare him to the trial. ay. but when our skins are eternally irritated. Pat. and as she couldn't have a scion of one of the Royal House of . I tell you. Phil's all for his British army. a Cuchullin you were. Phil. Patrick: they say she has married a prince. More than that. and the best colour of both. as you know. he 's the very man to hurl his gauntlet. and I say. for that young man. she's took to herself a husband in her cradle. Ambition's the husband of Adiante Adister. we burn to be enthusiastic. then-and it 's on your heads before Europe and the two Americas. his hair would stand up in fire for the splendid gallop at our head that's proposed to him. I was one of 'm. my boy. is a title to subsequent friendship. but if you won't have it.itch on our backs from the Saxon horsehair shirt we're forced to wear. she had begun her march and she didn't mean to be arrested. and all who come nigh her are steps to her aim. let him be there. how can we sing? In a freer Erin I'd be the bard of the land. which means the speaking of our minds. and tell 'm. At least we had your heart. I'll read it. She never consulted her father about Prince Nikolas. She soaked the woman into you and squeezed the hero out of you. and this prince of hers is only a step she has taken. For she's that fiery dragon. between night and day. And what are you now? A paltry captain of hussars on the General's staff! One O'Donnell in a thousand! And what is she?--you needn't frown. His country's gathered up like a crested billow to roll him into Parliament. only mark me. and you. I'm her relative by marriage. Culann's chain-bound: but she unmanned you. and she 's a lady. I'll own it: I had the catch of the breath that warns us of convulsions. only for a woman fatal to us as the daughter of Rhys ap Tudor. she did. True. Philip. we're a loving people. which seeing her was. Oh. Why. gets more fish than disappointment in comparison with us when we cast the net for Philip. Parliament. She was the morning star for beauty. Aha. we're a loyal people. and if he chases her first mate from her bosom. We're dying like a nun that 'd be out of her cloister. combustible as we know her to have been: but brains are bombshells in comparison with your old-fashioned pine-brands for kindling men and cities. but he's dead: and the fisherman off the west coast after dreaming of a magical haul. she's married ambition. a beautiful woman with brains--which Helen of Troy hadn't. challenging any other to a race for Ireland. and to say. Phil! and to think of your youth! We had you then. the beautiful Nesta:--and beautiful she was to match the mother of the curses trooping over to Ireland under Strongbow. she shot a dart or two into my breast in those days. Phil has an opportunity stretching forth a hand to him now more than halfway that comes to a young Irishman but once in a century: backed by the entire body of the priesthood of Ireland too! and if only he was a quarter as full of the old country as you and I. Philip. he'll prove himself cleverer than she. Welshmen and Irishmen and Englishmen tumbled into the pit. She simply announced her approaching union. we're panting like the wife who hears of her husband coming home to her from the field of honour. All for Adiante! or a country left to slavery! that's the tale. Bring tears of vexation at the emptiness we pull back for our pains. And we should have had the length and strength of you. we were too hungry for quarrelling. and there we jostled for a glimpse quite companionably. his capabilities of British light cavalry. so long as you are parliamentary. and I say no. that I'll grant you. or there he seems to be.

by the mere fact of their being proximate. She acknowledged the merits of my whisky. just to have a roll with her in Irish mud. There she lies!' The prophetic captain pointed at the spot. for she's come down in the world. He called on the brothers to admire the 'martial and fumial' decorations of his round tower. and. and so I invited her to be at the door of the house at half-past ten. entered into rivalry. 'I do. 'No politics. and I 'll thank you. "What!" says the good father. 'Fun and good-fellowship to-night. That's the way to make good things a part of you. and one was pretty good. and was overwhelmed with compassion and fraternal sentiment. perfectly remarkable in its lullaby motion. "Mika! you did it in cold blood?" And says Mika. and I've not heard of ambition that didn't kill its votary: somehow it will. with your permission. but with the expressiveness of grave absorption.Europe.' said Philip. as the captain sadly reported no star visible. I smuggled up an old countrywoman of ours. buzzing over the display of implements. He then said: 'And now I'm for my pipe. she put her foot on Prince Nikolas. not so . while Patrick examined guns and Philip unsheathed swords. The captain judicially decided the case against the English pipe. and strange to relate. and probably mistaken the rocking that's to launch him through the air for a condition of remarkable ease. Con. as a newer pipe of grosser manufacture. your Riverence. Patrick made a queer face.' 'You run great risks. a century old. The whole intrigue was exquisitely managed. but she told it with a becoming air of appropriation that made it family history. They're my blessed guardian angels.' 'You should have seen me here the other night about a month ago. suffused in the merriest of grins. She was a treat. or somebody's--I should say. they all but leapt upon one another. She told me stories. 'tis sure to. ha! well. he's a stone in a sling. I got myself into a passion 'fore I let loose." I believe she smoked this identical pipe. never clapping hands. of a relative of hers.' said Philip: 'none of your early recollections. and the old girl quiet as a mouse for the fun's sake. with the connivance of rosy Mary. "Not I. the Irish pipe and English immediately. and wanted cleaning. Philip broke from a brown study to glance at his brother. I'll just go to the window to see if the stars are out overhead. And he 's not to fancy he 's in for a peaceful existence. 'She sells apples at a stall at a corner of a street hard by. rosy Mary sneaking her down. Be jovial.' Philip observed. and this fellow had a stain of red upon him.' said Captain Con. and mend her torn soul with a stitch or two of rejoicing. as poets do hearing fine verses. and I saw her sitting pulling at her old pipe in the cold October fog morning and evening for comfort. I got her out and off at midnight.' said the captain. 'Have I ever flown a signal to the contrary?' retorted the captain.' There was a pause. An ancient clay pipe from the bed of the Thames and one from the bed of the Boyne were laid side by side. and the blackest clay of the party.

'You've the heart of a renegade-foreigner not to see it!' cried the captain.' 'Not a bit of it!' 'Look at the clay. The Irish bowl is broken. 'Where's the sign of English marks?' 'The pipes resemble one another.' 'Use your eyes. Patrick intervened saying: 'I suspect they're Dutch. Con!' 'Let him go to the deuce with as many pipes as he can carry. or you wouldn't talk like that.' 'If I thought that. 'like tails of Shannonbred retrievers. if you want historical evidence.curious by any means. 'This was dropped in Boyne Water by one of William's troopers. I take it to be of English make. 'But will Philip O'Donnell tell me that Ireland should lie down with .' 'There is: and the jealousy of rulers caused them to be destroyed by decrees. then?' the captain caught at analogy to rescue his favourite from reproach. it's of a piece with your lukewarmness for the country. and I tell you.' the captain shook his hand gratefully. 'Both of them are Saxon.' 'Maybe they 're both Irish.' said Philip. and that 's possible.' 'Well. and the English has an inch longer stem!' 'O the Irish bowl is broken!' Philip sang. 'This.' 'Your opposition to the Saxon would rob him of his pipe.' Captain Con scrutinised them to calm his temper: 'there's a Dutchiness in the shape.' said Captain Con. but he shan't have this one. but it was not accepted. I'd stamp my heel on the humbug the neighbour minute. It is an Orange pipe.' 'Not a toss-up of difference is to be seen in the pair.' Philip held up the reputed Irish pipe.' 'There is no record of pipe manufactories in Ireland at the period you name. and scanned as he twirled it on his thumb.' He offered Philip the compromise of 'Dutch' rather plaintively. and the pipes would have mingled their fragments on the hearthstone if Patrick had not stayed his arm. Philip.' 'I look.' 'And I won't. saying: 'Don't hurt them.

flat as my laundress's irons. They tell us over here we ought to be satisfied. then I will. the military machine requires intelligence in all ranks now.' said Philip. the time for the Celt is dawning: I see it. and dolt won't do any longer. You can only move them by popping at them over hedges and roaring on platforms. The drill they 've had hasn't driven Hodge out of them. Phil and Pat?' . and when he's out of it he's at sea. Thousands of us are in a starving state at home this winter. And it's not the fault of England?--landlordism 's not? Who caused the ruin of all Ireland's industries? You might as well say that it 's the fault of the poor beggar to go limping and hungry because his cruel master struck him a blow to cripple him. Off with our shackles! We've only to determine it to be free.' said Philip. it has only stiffened the dolt. But he 'll not stir. though he admits the antagonism. Wipe out our grievances. Good Lord!--love? The love of Ireland for the conquering country will be the celebrated ceremony in the concluding chapter previous to the inauguration of the millennium. Solidity and stupidity have had their innings: a precious long innings it has been. 'You'll find more craft in him when he's buffeted than you reckoned on. and you'll behold me in a new attitude. Captain Philip O'Donnell. Fall upon our list of wrongs. Put it to him. and we'll bloom again. and when he's out of it he's at sea. And their Horse Guards. traitors never did mischief in Ireland! Why. and never saw there. you mean. by my faith! And their Foot Guards: Have ye met the fellows marching? with their feet turned out. Follow me! Will ye join in the toast to the emblem of Erin-the shamrock. I never saw out of a doll-shop. and now throwing off the mask. We want freedom. late of the staff of the General commanding in Canada. We don't want half and half doctoring.England on the terms of a traveller obliged to take a bedfellow? Come! He hasn't an answer. Of course they can fight. Patrick. with their yellow facings on red jackets. and they set to work yawning. Who said no? But they 're not the only ones: and they 'll miss their ranks before they can march like our Irish lads. 'And if that isn't the speech of a traitor sold to the enemy. And if your brother Philip won't accept this blazing fine offer. The fellow yawns! You don't know me yet. and the muscles of their calves depending on the joints to get 'm along.' his cousin flung back. 'I repeat my words. Ay. like pot-house churls daring the dursn't to come on. Philip. and we'll have it. and now they're shoved aside like clods of earth from the risin flower. and unable to manage his craft. The Englishman has an island mind.' 'Mad. what can you discover to admire in these people? Isn't their army such a combination of colours in the uniforms. weedy to a man! fit for a doll-shop they are.' 'The Irishman too has an island mind. and it's too late in the day for half and half oratory. The look of their men in line is for all the world to us what lack-lustre is to the eye. And Ireland is asked to lie down with England on a couch blessed by the priest! Not she. and I'll be the first to speak the word and mount the colours. for elasticity never gave those bones of theirs a springing touch. and their bearskins heeling behind on their polls. and I don't often spy a spark where there isn't soon a blaze. They're incapable of understanding a complaint a yard beyond their noses. and then we'll begin to talk of policy. and you pose him. and we won't leave it to the Saxon to think about giving it.

tall young men. in action. His features were not so brilliantly regular. To symbolise them. Goodbye to my hop and skip. in a fit of generosity! Ireland all over! I must hurry and wash my hair. and whose frame was leopardlike in indolence. Don't be in such a fright.'Oh.' he said. Time stood at half-past the midnight. 'I fancy the time for the Celt is not dawning. Sit still. though beside another he would not have appeared so. politely. I'll be thinking of ye while I'm warming her. and I 'm the warming pan. I ought by rights to have been down beside her at midnight. 'tis the secret of my happiness. for she can't bear a perfume to kill a stink. but setting. showing a wider pattern of the long square head and the forehead. Patrick struck his knee on hearing the expected ballad-burden recur. I can't wait. as legitimately I should be. He groaned: 'I must go. Captain Con gazed in that direction incredulously and with remonstrance. The thing called circulation's unknown to her save by the aid of outward application.' He turned and informed his company: 'Her hand'll take an hour to warm. and. with a sharp smile. Good-night. Dear! how she runs ahead: d' ye hear? That's the female tongue. unshaded direct. and Patrick wore an artful look. Beside him Patrick seemed cubbish. alert. Patrick went up to him. CHAPTER X THE BROTHERS 'Con has learnt one secret. with the differences between soldier and civilian marked by the succintly military bearing of the elder brother. and were exceeding alive.' he admonished it as his wife. Be quiet!' he bellowed at the alarum. 'Give us a hug. she carries her charitable heart that far. His eyelids had to do with the look of his eyes.' said Philip. open. a wavering at the dip of the nose. 'The tinkler it is!' he sighed. my dear. and the hug was given. and once off it won't stop. nervously braced from head to foot. She's the worthiest woman alive. and quick with the fire in him. certainly. 'Your hand'll take an hour to warm if you keep it out on the spring that sets the creature going. whose movements were precise and prompt.' said Philip. 'I 'm coming. the man himself. liquid. 'But it can't be midnight yet?' Watches were examined. and I don't shirk my duty. And this contrivance for fetching me from my tower to her bed was my own suggestion. livelier nostrils: the nostrils dilated and contracted.' said Philip. They were of an equal height. and were often seen cutting the ball.' He fled. I haven't heard the tinkler for months. 'What 's that row going on?' Patrick also called attention to the singular noise in the room. but were a fanciful sketch of the same design. A corner of the room was guilty of the incessant alarum. Philip's eyes were large on the pent of his brows. quitting his chair. They were full. they were . Eyes of that quality are the visible mind. Patrick's mouth had to be studied for an additional index to the character. It signifies she's cold in her bed. I'm her husband and her Harvey in one. animated both to speak it and to render it what comes within their scope.

sacrifice. My taste is for quiet farming and breeding. How did Mr. The house is a fine old house: lonely. who would get on well enough. 'Tell us of your welcome. and . I should be boiling with the rest. They have my feelings. relating to South America. This idea of a commencement gives me a view of the finish. He used to fence excellently. and the report that a certain one of us is true as steel. he raised his head and said: 'Not so foolish as it struck you.--without the design upon the original owner of the soil! Irishmen are better out of Europe. and part of my judgement. and do not so much read a print as read the imprinting on themselves. or of the gentleness acceptable as an equivalent.' 'Secondly. those are some of his ideas: gentlemen are to excel in the knightly exercises. say. you know. poor lad.' said Philip. if my people can pay. I don't want to give up my profession. I suppose.as a sword-blade lying beside book. You're the Patrick of fourteen. 'that is. supposing it a concession that is asked of them. must be unanimous at a propitious hour to assure them completely that the steel is not two-edged in the fully formed nature of a man whom they have not tried. At the conclusion. he showed sensibility.' said Patrick. and their rules. 'So you've been down there?' said Philip. and whether that's the weaker part I can't at present decide. union. Adister receive you?' Patrick described the first interview. if the terms are fair.' Patrick spoke of Caroline Adister and pursued his narrative. Besides Patrick came nearer to them.' 'I'll make it a thousand. which lends itself to feeling and imagination. 'It's only the name of union now.' Patrick replied. I never could go half way. Men would have thought Patrick the slippery one of the two: women would have inclined to confide in him the more thoroughly. who tramped across Connaught for young Dermot to have a sight of you before he died. They are more at home with the unformed. I haven't an independence.' 'Friendship. And to put it first among the objections.' 'What is it Con O'Donnell proposes to you?' Patrick asked him earnestly. fourthly. fifthly. You and I might do that. Their laws. as far as possible. They have it. 'Over there at home one catches the fever. they bring feeling to the test. Would you care to try it?' 'If I'm no wiser after two or three years of the world I mean to make a better acquaintance with. 'Yes. Philip was lost in thought. and they deem it auspicious of goodness. Never mind why you went: I think I see. Philip mused over it. once there. The Jesuit seminary would have been hard for him to swallow once. unless they enter one of the Continental services. their systems are forced on a race of an opposite temper. it might be made for the sake of what our people would do to strengthen the nation. Thirdly. not above two hundred a year. But they won't try to understand our people. Patrick. Not the less was Philip the one to inspire the deeper and the wilder passion. 'To be a speaking trumpet in Parliament. and he was a good horseman.

' 'You like his wife. and she houses him. and so the secret pulls both ways. I declare to you. I shall grieve for the secret. I thought myself passably cured. is just the man for House of Commons clown. it comes on us again.' Philip added. with Europe in this pickle. The bulk of it I suspect to be. I would not willingly see the union disturbed.' 'Isn't he serious about it?' 'Quite. if they were properly consulted. and I'm sorry for it. I wish I had been bred in France: a couple of years with your Pere Clement. One day a fit of pride may have him. but they always do: these tales of starvations and shootings. 'And not the most agreeable of food. I like the character of British officers. and the men too--I get on well with them.thrive. and that will be the fun.' Patrick referred to the state described by his brother. We ought to be a solid square. Philip?' 'He might: and become the burlesque Irishman of the House. They came together. and could have said that rhetoric is the fire-water of our country. I burn to live in brotherhood with them. like the two islands. three or four days with Con have stirred me. Patrice. and if he's taken in the tide of it. because they were near together. I like my comrades-in-arms. A serious fellow talking nonsense with lively illustrations. I fancy. So I say. and I should make a worse of it--at least for myself. I don't let him see it. whether they were disaffected or not. Patrice. all the old work just as when I left. When I landed the other day. Better I than he. that he enjoys his luxuries and is ashamed of his laziness. Ireland 's the sore place of England. which are an essential part of the housing. Oh! shiver politics. I was dipped in "Ireland for the Irish".' 'Wouldn't the secret of his happiness interfere?' 'If he has the secret inside his common sense. There must be one. He warms her. sitting here. inscrutably busy on his errand and watched for his tumblings. and claptrap the springboard to send us diving into it. if we had to pay penance for the discovery by living in . 'It would be the secret of our happiness to discover how to make the best of it. in spite of the rolling waves between. and I could have met Irishmen and felt to them as an Irishman.--I suppose. Con would be the porpoise in a fish tank there. What should I be saying in Parliament?' 'Is Con at all likely. and a contented Irishman scarcely seems my countryman. not a rift of division at heart! I never show them that there is one. or one of his warm impulses. And he has to control the hot blood that does the warming. I wish I did. Your humorous rogue is not half so taking. act on me like a smell of powder. Philip?' 'I respect her. do you think. and she to moderate the severity of her principles.' 'I suppose it 's like what I hear of as digesting with difficulty. But our early training has us. and the lot would be safe to fall on him.

Miss Caroline. Judge if they're anxious. Patrice. Philip. I want a cool head for such brains as I have. Patrice. Patrick could not help dropping his voice: 'Isn't it very like?' For answer the miniature had to be inspected closely.' Philip checked the departing Patrick. Patrick laid it there.an Esquimaux shanty. You 're an odd fellow to have asked for it.' said Philip. They think more of the big portrait: I don't. Adister sends it. They are the features. Mother would rather you would go to France and visit the De Reuils. The way to begin to think so. after an interval quick with fiery touches on the history of that face and his life.' Patrick brought out the miniature. And it 's to be kept carefully. of course. The sensation's not unpleasant when it's other than a question of good taste.' 'You're a good boy. That's only fair. my dear Philip. 'You can leave that. 'We may be all in the wrong. and see the nest. 'Yes. 'With a frozen fish of admirable principles for wife. Light those candles we'll go to bed. But politics to bed.' He made a sign for the miniature to be left on the table.' said Philip: it was a lesser thing than to send her likeness to him. The young lady.' Philip drank in the face upon a swift shot of his eyes. dear boy. in case of the other one getting damaged. She and the girls hope you will keep out of Ireland for a time: it's hot. Adister sends it?' His tone implied wonder at such a change in Adiante's father. when it's to stop them from seeing you. His brother had not touched it. Mr. is to do them an injury and forget it.' said Patrick. What are you fiddling at in your coat there?' 'Something for you. and the girls. He held it for his brother to look. and the mother. I suppose it resembles her as she is now.' 'That he might do. Philip was a Spartan for keeping his feelings under. 'Ah. seconded me. of course. 'It was the only thing I could get. and he could have . 'And an invitation to you to visit him when you please. Philip!' 'Good-night.' he said. you give me shudders!' 'And it's her guest who talks of her in that style! and I hope to be thought a gentleman!' Philip pulled himself up. 'Older.' 'Not St. 'Mr. or was when it was painted.' 'I thought you would wish to have it. We'll cross the Channel in a few days. The likeness is not bad. and bumping the pillow all night is not exactly wholesome. George's Channel. My chief is right--soldiers have nothing to do with them.

' 'Ah! more births. CHAPTER XI INTRODUCING A NEW CHARACTER Letters and telegrams and morning journals lay on the breakfast-table. keeping his shoulders turned on Philip to conceal his look of destitution. on the plea that it might prevent his brother from having his proper share of sleep. buckled tight and buttoned up over his private sentiments.' 'Have we got men?' 'Always the question with us. however. uncertain where.' said Mrs. 'But this one's out of England: and it's a prince I suppose they'll call him: and princes don't count in the population for more than finishing touches. crying: 'To-day the city'll be a chimney on fire. Adister.defended himself for having forgotten to leave it. except that it does no good to be singing it at the only time when you can show her the consequences of her sluggery. 'Pheu! Phil!' 'That's what it comes to. awaiting the members of the household with combustible matter. Adister O'Donnell. A country of compromise goes to pieces at the first cannon-shot of the advance. to a certainty. If it weren't that she had the army of Neptune about her--' 'The worst is she may some day start awake to discover that her protecting deity 's been napping too.' The captain appeared to be computing. She communicated it:'The Princess Nikolas has a son!' Captain Con tossed his newspaper to the floor. He was the soldier at once. eh?' 'You can make them provocative. and while she's fighting on it's her poor business to be putting herself together again: So she makes a mess of the beginning.' exclaimed Con. that Philip had no great pleasure in the possession of it.' 'What a country!' sighed the captain. but I must go down. with the blacks in everybody's faces. 'I'd compose ye a song of old Drowsylid. Philip had ten words of mandate from his commanding officer.' 'Will you beg for India?' 'I shall hear in an hour. The two pleas. I must go. It's hen and chicks with the director of a City Company. did not make one harmonious apology. Bad news from Ireland came upon ominous news from India.--A boy or girl did you say. and they signified action. with the step of a decorous office-clerk. and he went straight to the door in an odd silence.' Did you say. 'Precautionary measures. like the . my dear?' His wife replied: 'A son. madam?' Patrick inquired. and also. 'And the military holloaing for reinforcements.' was Philip's answer. 'A son. Vienna shot a line to Mrs.

'Patrick is a disengaged young verderer. without any sickly circumlocutory stuff. But. and sour to boot. and has a welcome face there. like some flowers and feathers.' he said to his wife to pay her a compliment and coax an acknowledgement: 'just the flavour of the salt of him. straight to the understanding. "Boy born Vienna doctor smiling nurse laughing." That tells it all. if you're for having it performed by word of mouth. 'And there is to-morrow's dinner-party to the Mattocks: I cannot travel to Earlsfont. bacon delicately thin and curling like Apollo's locks at his temples. 'True. since you'll want him to meet the Mattocks?' Captain Con's underlip shone with a roguish thinness.' Captain Con winked at his guests.' she said. ''Tis like reading the list of the dead after a battle where you've not had the best of it--each name 's a startling new blow. caviar.' said her sympathetic husband. my dear.crossing of t's and dotting of i's. adding. my dear. bad news is best communicated by telegraph. and he might go. For the same reason. both meditatively nibbling toast and indifferent to the similes he drew and applied to life from the little fish which had their sharpness corrected but not cancelled by the improved liquid they swam in. And a howl and growl coming off the wilds of Old Ireland! We're smitten to-day in our hearts and our pockets. as you pretty clearly hinted. and they add to the lump on Barney's back. to ballast me. to Patrick: 'I entertain the opinion that a sound breakfastappetite testifies to the proper vigour of men. for the sake of our families. But who has any compassion for a burdened donkey? unless when you see him standing immortal meek! Well. though true they're the costliest. and she could not look sweet-oily. as her husband wooed her to do.' 'Do you not observe that your cousins are not eating?' said his wife. and knows the route. Colonel Arthur couldn't go. Adister remarked.' Her mind was on her brother Edward. and a child of some sort must have been expected? Because it's no miracle after marriage: worse luck for the crowded earth!' 'Things may not be expected which are profoundly distasteful. you know. and there's nothing more offensive to us when we're hurt at intelligence. and all 's in the city to-day like a loaf with bad yeast. thick as lead. and masses of eggs. begging them to steal ten minutes out of the fray for the inward fortification of them. with impulse to act the thing he was imagining. trust me. and cutlets.' 'Better than a doctor's pass: and to their habits likewise. which gives us no stupid articles and particles to quarrel with.' Mrs. but here's my company you would have me join for the directoring of it. Eggs in the shell. I'd offer to run to Earlsfont. . and it 's a question where we ought to feel it most. anchovies in the state of oil. 'Like an Irishman in clover. were pressed with the captain's fervid illustrations upon the brothers.

' said Con. He has a bold free hand and'll supply all the fiorituri and arabesques necessary to the occasion running. Phil. and comes better from wires. She will break it to her uncle. I must take leave of you. Phil. Her name's plain Jane. so her husband said: 'Take Patrick for a secretary. I'll see Distell too. who called on the people to resist.' 'You're for the city. I disapprove of telegrams.' He pressed his lips on her thin fingers.' She gazed at Patrick as if to intimate that he might be enlisted. 'I recommended the telegraph because it's my wife's own style. and I'm off to Peter M'Christy. and it 'll much resemble a colliery accident there.'Arthur must be here. Dictate.' 'Right. my dear. She's fond of Adiante. though he counts his fortune in millions. my boy! but I'm bound in honour not to propose it. my dear. Adister's disposal as her secretary. where the winds of panic are violently engaged in occupying the vacuum created by knocking over what the disaster left standing. and they wouldn't relish mine. and doesn't much love talking. and said: 'It will be to Caroline.' said the captain. good at most things. She's one to be a mother of stout ones that won't run up big doctors' bills or ask assistance in growing. Dr. and housed the man Liffey after his firing the shot.' She was asking to be assisted. Forbery'll be . to hurry down to the tormented intestines of that poor racked city. Adister. and she sympathises with her brother Edward made a grandfather through the instrumentality of that foreign hooknose. She nodded a gracious acceptance of him. I must know if it signifies the trigger. 'Let them play Vesuvius down there. I suspect. a prize. "Deeds not words" would serve for their motto. I've got another in me: and I can't stop their eruption. which I've heard is lighter for a beggar to perform than in pounds. his brother-in-law. He's to meet the burning Miss Mattock.' said Philip. and brains: the very girl! But she's jotted down for the Adisters. as they were putting on their overcoats in the hall. who has gold on her crown and a lot on her treasury.' said Mrs. 'Not I. madam. and she 's a girl to breed conquerors. afresh healthy girl. after they had walked down the street. and the same you may say of her brother John. It all came from the wedding of a railway contractor. It's fun about Colonel Arthur not going. on the part of a lady I 've never known to be wrong! And so. and beat any of us easy by showing them millions! We might do something for them at home with a million or two. but he can count seven. I know a little of Dick Martin. or I'm agitated about nothing. and a rescue of dead bodies. who sprang from the wedding of a spade and a clod--and probably called himself Mattock at his birth. Pat 'll lengthen her sentences for her. And a nice girl. who 's a mighty fit man. if Colonel Arthur can look lower than his nose and wag his tongue a bit. 'You must know the family. Patrick placed himself at Mrs. and Patrick must turn the two dagger sentiments to a sort of love-knot and there's the task he'll have to work out in his letter to Miss Caroline. She hates writing. no shame to him. 'I cannot bring myself to write it. Adieu.

' 'I'm in for the pull if I join hands. else there's no teaching their imaginations you're in earnest. and life's life. Though the fields between run red on the green. and physician and politician are agreed it's good for him to do it. "For we march in ranks to the laurelled banks. it's big misery and chronic disease to let it be and at worst a jump and tumble into the next world. he bent a lowering frown on his cousin. it must be a blow now and then for these people over here.' He was eyed suspiciously and he vowed the military weapons were for another destination entirely. with a twitch at his mouth. by the by. poor soul! See her!' Philip had signalled a cabman to stop. these English. so long as you admit that the law is bad. for they've got heads that open only to hard raps.able to tell how far they mean going for a patriotic song. tell us. Such is humanity. and you'd spread a light of justice. Phil: and you must allow for the roundabout way of moving to get into the straight road at last. my boy. or he'll go mad and be a dangerous lunatic! Phil. On the bright horizon shining. and in that case. 'I have no time for an introduction to her this morning. 'Oh! easy!' Con answered the look. and where injustice rules. Phil.' 'And why not?--inside the law. of a score or two of us if we have a wrestle with him. a certain lot of us must give up the ghost--naturally on both sides. He stood facing his cousin with a close-lipped smile that summarised his opinion and made it readable. hang on him and shake him. of course. .' he said. 'You won't drop in on Distell to hear the latest brewing? And. Law's law. But shake the old villain. Logic like yours. if he calls himself Law.' 'While your Barney skirmishes outside!' 'And when the poor fellow's cranium's cracking to fling his cap in the air. would have you go on picking at the Gordian Knot till it became a jackasses' race between you and the rope which was to fall to pieces last.--There 's my old girl at the stall. the opposite Pole." Will you come. could you give us a hint for packing five or six hundred rifles and a couple of pieces of cannon?' Philip stared. And I see what you're for saying: a roundabout eye won't find it! You're wrong where there are dozens of corners. That 's how we dust the corruption out of him for a bite or two in return. Phil?' 'I 'm under orders. 'it's for another place and harder to get at. And many a wife goes pining.' 'You won't engage yourself by coming. Bother his wig.

like a master rebel. nodding and passing on his way. Con took him two steps aside and did all the talking. mind you. abruptly coming to an end after an eloquent appeal. The colour of a sandpit was given him by hair and whiskers of yellow-red on a ruddy face. 'No. No one could express a neg ative more emphatically without wording it. She looks on you as Wisdom in the uniform of a great commander.' Philip bowed to a man whose notion of the ceremony was to nod. And he's an Englishman and a member of Parliament. fresh from Canada. and a Liberal though a landlord. and not be trying risky adventures to turn him into a reigning prince. under the noses of the authorities. not likely to play at arms and ammunition where his country's prosperity 's concerned. flying necktie and wideish trowsers. and he was ready to fill the place of the prince at the head of his phantom body of horse and foot and elsewhere. and you might be useful in dropping a hint or two. We discussed it as a matter of business. She'll keep her money and nurse her babe. We talked of his selling her estates for the purchase of arms and the enemy--as many as she had money for. a thorough stout Briton and bulldog for the national integrity. you wouldn't be in for a crazy villainy like that!' said Philip. who'll corroborate me. a general airiness of style on a solid frame. the devoted slave of the Princess Nikolas. Mattock listened attentively the first half-minute. I hope.'No. spoke of the element his blue eyes had dipped their fancy in. She'll not take it from any of us. I'd like to make you acquainted with. She had bewitched him: and would again. from hereditary inclination. Phil. previous to your meeting at my wife's table tomorrow evening. 'Ah!' said Con. Only this: you'll have to persuade her the thing is impossible. 'There's a change in a man through a change in his position! Six months or so back. and now.' said Con. and a . if she were here to repeat the dose. the man who solemnly calculated her chances and speculates on the transmission of rifled arms of the best manufacture and latest invention by his yacht and with his loads of rails. he inherits. I suspect.' 'The reverse too. Mr. since it's my cousin. And here's Mr. Mr. John Mattock himself. nor wink to it. But in the interim his father dies. aide-de-camp to Sir Charles. though he neither frowned nor gesticulated to that effect.' Con remarked to himself. He'd been there on his father's business about one of the Danube railways. of whom you've heard. or in other words a Saxon's mind made up on a point of common sense. 'But it's a question about packing cannon and small arms. His appearance was redolently marine. The matter's innocent. Mattock. I don't doubt. as far as we can let you into the secret before we've consulted together. How d' ye do. and he enters Parliament. and if you say a thing can be done it 's done. Captain Philip O'Donnell. 'And I think I'm of your opinion: and the sea no longer dashes at the rock. that man came from Vienna. after which it could be perceived that the orator was besieging a post. his pilot coat. Mattock--and opportunely. but makes itself a mirror to the same.' said Mr. It's not even a substitution of one form of Government for another: only a change of despots. 'That I am not so sure of.

The people change their sovereigns as rapidly as a London purse. and the first field or two. She can work one.' Philip signalled to his driver. it's the only thing she has to help her to stomach her husband. they say. and if I know the witch. Two pieces of artillery and two or three hundred men and a trumpet alter the face of the land there. I'd not swear she wouldn't lay fast hold of them.' 'Round the Euxine and up the Danube. and I 'm taking the view of her disappointment. 'But that man Mattock's not an idiot and he thought she could. her sole comfort lying in the straw is the prospect of a bloody venture for a throne. He's their Weekly Journal or Monthly Magazine. with the British flag at the stern.' 'The country hasn't a port. And her prince is called for. He's promised a good reception when he drops down the river. thoughtful of the feelings of his wife. for she believes he can do anything. But the poor girl has ordered her estates to be sold to cast the die. 'And I do. to my thinking. ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: A contented Irishman scarcely seems my countryman A country of compromise goes to pieces at the first cannon-shot A lady's company-smile A superior position was offered her by her being silent And it's one family where the dog is pulled by the collar Arch-devourer Time As if she had never heard him previously enunciate the formula As secretive as they are sensitive Be politic and give her elbow-room for her natural angles Becoming air of appropriation that made it family history Constitutionally discontented Decency's a dirty petticoat in the Garden of Innocence England's the foremost country of the globe Enjoys his luxuries and is ashamed of his laziness Fires in the grates went through the ceremony of warming nobody Foist on you their idea of your idea at the moment Grimaces at a government long-nosed to no purpose He judged of others by himself . And it 's proof he was under a spell. and then he sits himself. the dead contrary of his former self!' 'I thought I heard you approve him.' 'But it's rank idiocy to suppose she can smuggle cannon!' cried Philip. A bit of a scrimmage on the landing-pier may be. The truth is. Grave as an owl. Sometimes a trumpet blown by impudence does it alone.' said Philip. Let them make acquaintance with Adiante Adister. pooh poohs the whole affair. They're enthusiastic for any new prince. You saw him. and he waits his turn. I could rather enjoy the adventure.chivalrous gentleman to boot. and Captain Con sang out his dinner-hour for a reminder to punctuality.

and they nurse the venom That fiery dragon. OF THE GREAT MR. where he both wished and wished not to be I 'm the warming pan.Hear victorious lawlessness appealing solemnly to God the law Her aspect suggested the repose of a winter landscape Here. THE MATTOCK FAMILY XVI. BULL AND THE CELTIC AND SAXON VIEW OF HIM: AND SOMETHING OF RICHARD ROCKNEY . as legitimately I should be I detest enthusiasm I never saw out of a doll-shop. a beautiful woman with brains The race is for domestic peace. XII. but leave the puzzle to the priest Old houses are doomed to burnings Our lawyers have us inside out. and I had to take her shaped as she was Men must fight: the law is only a quieter field for them Mika! you did it in cold blood? No man can hear the words which prove him a prophet (quietly) Not so much read a print as read the imprinting on themselves Not to bother your wits. OF ROCKNEY XV. poor t' other must Winds of panic are violently engaged in occupying the vacuum With a frozen fish of admirable principles for wife Withdrew into the entrenchments of contempt You'll tell her you couldn't sit down in her presence undressed CELT AND SAXON By GEORGE MEREDITH 1910 BOOK 2. my boy We're all of us hit at last. and never saw there Indirect communication with heaven Ireland 's the sore place of England Irishman there is a barrow trolling a load of grievances Irony in him is only eulogy standing on its head Lack of precise words admonished him of the virtue of silence Married at forty. like our physicians Philip was a Spartan for keeping his feelings under Taste a wound from the lightest touch. and generally by our own weapon We're smitten to-day in our hearts and our pockets Welsh blood is queer blood Where one won't and can't. MISS MATTOCK XIII. THE DINNER-PARTY XIV.

She wished to convey that she was pleased with the news from Vienna.' said Patrick. due to the circumstance that she was unable. whose volubility might be encouraged and their affectionateness deserved by liberal wages. CAPTAIN CON'S LETTER X1X. and at the same time her addiction to the practical provoked disdain of so flimsy a genius. and he was flying high on them until the extraordinary delicacy of the mind seeking to deliver itself forced him to prick up all his apprehensiveness. MARS CONVALESCENT CHAPTER XII MISS MATTOCK Mrs. The promptitude of Irish blood to deliver the war-cry either upon a glove flung down or taken up. and yet Caroline must by no means be requested to alter a sentence referring to Adiante. the use of words independent of ideas. which had her fullest sympathy. If Irishmen had not been notoriously fighters. The lady's practical intelligence admitted the service. She led Patrick to her private room. the composer adroitly interfused them by a careless transposition of the prelude and the burden that enabled him to play ad . had an extreme dislike of the task of composing epistles. beyond her capacity to do. 'It must be the whole truth. The decision of Government to send reinforcements to Ireland was mentioned as a prelude to the information from Vienna of the birth of a son to the Princess Nikolas: and then. where they both took seats and he selected a pen. Mr. and desired her gratification to be imparted to her niece Caroline. for that would commit her and the writer jointly to an insincerity.' he said. At once a magnificently clear course for the complicated letter was distinguished by him. Patrick supposed that his business would be to listen and put her words to paper. to conceive an idea disconnected with the main theme of her communication. she would have looked on them as a kind of footmen hired to talk and write. 'Can I write on and read it to you afterward? I have the view. Her native superiority caused her to despise the art. which was identified by her with the genius of the Irish race. Patrick followed his 'My dear Caroline' with greetings very warm. Adister waved to him to write on. and he wrote: 'My dear Caroline.XVII. madam. but the necessity for employing it at intervals subjected her to fits of admiration of the conjurer. in common with her family. CROSSING THE RUBICON XVIII. founded on a report of her flourishing good looks. raised them to a first place in her esteem: and she was a peaceful woman abhorring sanguinary contention. having conjoined the two entirely heterogeneous pieces of intelligence. unaided.' to get the start. was lightly performed by another. yet not so as to be opposed to the peculiar feelings of her brother Edward. Adister O'Donnell. but it was in her own blood to love such a disposition against her principles. as an art of conjuring. Mrs. a mechanical occupation permitting the indulgence of personal phantasies. and regarded. famous for their chivalry. it being then evident that a serviceable piece of work.

I'm glad to say. enjoying his composition and pleased with his reconcilement of differences. She confirmed it by her remarks and manner of speaking. by which device the lord of Earlsfont might be offered condolences while the lady could express her strong contentment. as effective as the cabalism of Prospero's wand among the Neapolitan mariners. my dear Mrs. If only we can establish it on a scale to let us give employment to at least as many women as we have working now! That is what I want to hear of. He was next engaged in imagining that she would certainly burn and be a light in the dark. her looks pleasant. and allow for the feelings on the other side. I hear he has gone down to the city. We're aiming at steam. by the skilful Irish development on a grand scale of the rhetorical figure anastrophe. 'Shall I fold it? There was a smoothness in the letter particularly agreeable to her troubled wits.' Her age struck Patrick as being about twenty-three. even temporarily. and she was glad of a crisis concluding a term of suspense thus the foreign-born baby was denounced and welcomed. madam. I'm on my way to the Laundry.libitum on regrets and rejoicings. in a breath. and glancing up from his work he beheld a fiery vision. John and I verified them last night. Patrick sketched a series of hooked noses on the blotter. or a turning about and about. He heard a lady's name announced at the door. we shall be beaten and have to depend on the charitable sentiments of rich people to support the Institution. . you know. At the same time we must not be imprudent: turning off hands. all under cover of the happiest misunderstanding. and we want one. She hesitated to assent: it seemed like a drug that she was offered. inasmuch as he deplored the state of affairs in the sister island. but with an awful taste. though we cannot yet afford to pay for a secretary. I must go and do it alone. would be quite against my policy. Afterwards he discovered her feelings to be delicate. 'You're right. I'm for grand measures. His first impression was that the young lady could wrestle with him and render it doubtful of his keeping his legs. Thereupon came one of the most singular sensations he had ever known: he felt that he was unable to see the way to please her. Apparently she was conducting a business. 'So you say what you feel yourself. Mrs. He read it out to her. Adister addressed her affectionately: 'My dear Jane!' Patrick was introduced to Miss Mattock. that have to feed infants. It 's a scandal every day that it doesn't while we have coal. But if we wait for a great rival steam laundry to start ahead of us. the circumstances lamented and the mother congratulated. and if we get a bad name with them it will ruin us. Adister. Our accounts are flourishing. Women will listen to a man. In three or four years we may found a steam laundry on our accumulated capital. and I called to get Captain Con to drive there with me and worry the manageress about the linen they turn out: for gentlemen are complaining of their shirt-fronts. So it's a serious question with us to think of taking the initiative: for steam must come. And that won't do.' he remarked.

'But if the idea in the mind of the person supposed to be writing the letter is accurately expressed? Does it matter. Mr. But then my dilemma remains. Patrick leaned to her.' said Miss Mattock. 'Colonel Adister?' Miss Mattock shook her head. She read it through. It spares my brother and it does not belie me. I cannot but consider this letter very ingenious. and sat with her opinion evidently formed within. I am indeed troubled. she settled into antagonism. She was not to be diverted. You are so good to us with your subscriptions that I always feel in your debt. Adister. But the moment I hear it is jesuitical I forswear it. 'No. 'I should write what I felt.' 'Arthur can be very energetic when he takes up a thing. 'Rank jesuitry. 'Yet it says everything I wish to have said. Patrick. and requested Miss Mattock to peruse the composition of Mr. I cannot consent to despatch a jesuitical letter.' Patrick glanced at his hostess for a signal to rise and depart. Adister. though it be to save him from a wound. 'What do you think of it?' she was asked. The effect of a letter is often most important. handed it back.'Could my nephew Arthur be of any use to you?' said Mrs.' 'But it might be like discharging a bullet. if the emotion at work behind it happens to be a trifle so.' 'Can he? But.' 'Then you'd not express the emotions at all?' He flashed a comical look of astonishment as he spoke. Adister. distinctly it matters. my dear Jane?' 'Perfectly. Mrs. Patrick O'Donnell and deliver an opinion upon it. but at once unfolded her perplexity. 'I feared so!' sighed Mrs. You are sure of your impression.' she replied. Sometimes you confide in me. if we call it jesuitical.' 'Of course I should endeavour not to wound!' . The young lady took the letter without noticing its author.' 'How?' 'If your writing in that way wounded the receiver. you are looking a little troubled. according to your definition?' She rejoined: 'I should say. I cannot consent to give pain to my brother Edward: nor will I speak an untruth. She gave none.

'you have.' 'But sometimes you smile to please. I am also strongly in sympathy with my niece. And what more have we done in the letter than to be guilty of that? And people declare it's rarer: as if we were to be shut up in families to tread on one another's corns! Dear me! and after a time we should be having rank jesuitry advertised as the specific balsam for an unhappy domesticated population treading with hard heels from desperate habit and not the slightest intention to wound.' . But you would not be so considerate for the sore feelings of a father hearing what he hates to hear as to write a roundabout word to soften bad news to him?' She sought refuge in the reply that nothing excused jesuitry. perhaps.' Mrs. don't you?' 'Do you detect falseness in that?' she answered.' 'On behalf of the Steam Laundry?' Miss Mattock grew restless: she was too serious in defending her position to submit to laugh.' She shrugged as delicately as she could: 'We cannot possibly please everybody in life.' 'And on occasion a little extra civility is permitted!' 'Perhaps: when we are not seeking a personal advantage.' 'No: only we may spare them a shock: mayn't we?' 'Sophistries of any description. 'Except the necessities of civilisation. you'll admit. 'And domestic politeness is quite as needful as popular. And I agree with you with all my heart. 'Well. It is really deep concern for my brother.' 'In the interests of poor and helpless females. for that is in the interest of others. the princess. and his goodhumoured face forbade her taking offence. And it's innocent while it 's no worse than an effort to do a disagreeable thing as delicately as you can. I detest. after the demurest of pauses. so excellent a head that I could trust to your counsel blindfolded.' said Patrick. 'Politeness is one thing.' 'My dear Jane. 'No: but isn't there a soupcon of sophistry in it?' 'I should say that it comes under the title of common civility. though still of a tender age.'And there the bit of jesuitry begins. that beautiful Adiante: and my conscience declines to let me say that I am not.' she remarked pointedly. Adister interposed while the young lady sat between mildly staring and blinking.

O'Donnell know best. set her thoughts upon the composer of the letter. I am sure I had no such meaning. Forgive me if I seemed to pretend to casuistry. Adister had introduced Captain Philip O'Donnell to her. they are not solid. and upon the contrast of his ingenuous look with the powerful cast of his head. In fine. Adister should have been drawn in among Irishmen. 'Dear Mrs. not disposed to be (humbly be it said) beneficent. I never meant that it was not a very clever letter. moreover. she was on her guard against them. Of course the letter had gone. It's too difficult and delicate for me. like the good English. and I look forward to plenty of controversy and amusement. CHAPTER XIII THE DINNER-PARTY Miss Mattock ventured on a prediction in her mind: She was sure the letter would go. At present I have only a head for work. His transparency was of a totally different order from Captain Con's. and he was not in the priesthood. but without letting him perceive that he was a step nearer to the point of pleasing her. and she listened--who shall say why? His unlike likeness to his brother had struck her. Miss Mattock did not hear him. after Mrs. But the curious fatality that a person of such a native uprightness as Mrs.' said Patrick devoutly. I am horribly blunt. for it had no reference to woman's heart. and while she was exchanging a word or two with Colonel Adister. I said what I thought. Patrick opposite was flowing in speech. The effect was prompt: she sprang from her seat. Adister! I leave it to you. I always do. But Captain Philip . To-morrow evening John and I dine with you. of what kind she could not quite distinguish. Papists: they are not given to ideas: that one of the working for the future has not struck them. She dropped her eyes on him. These were her views.' 'I wish I had that. Irishmen both she and her brother had to learn to like. She heard of it before the commencement of the dinner. which proclaimed itself genuine by the inability to conceal a shoal of subterfuges. not law-supporting. If he addressed any remarks to the lady under his charge. who stood ready to conduct her to the table. The younger cousin's features carried a something invisible behind them. and as she held it a weakness to have to confess that Irishmen are socially more fascinating than the good English. owing to their bad repute for stability: they are. I am certain you and Mr.' Patrick said slyly. and she was just perceptive enough to spy it. and it excited her suspicions. and he was too young to be much of a politician.'We might perhaps presume to beg for Miss Mattock's assistance in the composition of a second letter more to her taste. and if it does exactly what you require it should be satisfactory. And there was not much to signify if it did. She fancied a certain danger about him.

'you were in Egypt this time last winter. They started a subject. ominous of the full stop. I fancy you are indifferent to Opera. I assure you. She had the oddest little shiver. for she was aware of his unhappy passion for the beautiful Miss Adister.' 'Not at all. so forth. and so they speedily ran to earth. I was as busy then as I am now. I enjoy it. or she his.' 'Not Dorcas. in the style of Colonel Adister. 'I fancy you have never been in Egypt?' 'No' There it is. and he punctuated her observations. the whole story had been poured into her ears. if you don't have the right sort of travelling crew in your boat. but the look of those mild clear eyes which appeared to say nothing save that there was fire behind them. or of towering aloof a Matterhorn above it.' A period perfectly rounded. She felt bound to look happy to gratify an excellent lady presiding over the duller half of a table of eighteen. without tilting his shoulders to exclude the company by devoting himself to his partner. and she might have read a signification. He cast his eyes on her: a quiet look.' 'Ah.' 'Your most obliged.' says she. A scrutiny she could have borne. of whose benignant designs in handing her to the entertaining officer she was not conscious. due to she knew not what. At the same time Miss Mattock exchanged a smile with her hostess. and as he faced the table Miss Mattock's inclination to listen attracted him. the task of pursuing conversational intercourse devolves upon him 'I missed Parlatti last spring. which he has reason to wish to succeed in doing. Her discourse with the latter amused her passing reflections.' Then he carries on the line. she had been . Condescending to attempt to please. He had committed himself to speech at last. or created it. and he is led to suppose that she has a distaste for foreign places. 'I think.' 'Meetings? Dorcas. She turned slightly to Captain O'Donnell. neither languid nor frigid seeming to her both open and uninviting. What opinion have you formed of her?' 'I know her only by name at present. for the tone betrays no curiosity about Egypt and her Nile. 'Dull enough.' 'Naturally.O'Donnell's taciturnity seemed no uncivil gloom: it wore nothing of that look of being beneath the table.' she puts her semicolon. which some of our good English are guilty of at their social festivities. hit on some perplexity.' He supplies her with a comma: 'Rather later. You might join if you would.

he was a burning disgrace to the chivalry of Erin. with a similar object: the ladies to look on and award the crown of victory. though she offered him his chance. thrilling her as melancholy orbs would not have done. capacity. Saxon or other. he could say sharp things from the heart. profoundly hidden at present. Oh! but eloquence upon a good cause will win you the hearts of all women. and then young Patrick might be trusted to warm to the work. should fortune frown on them. for he carried big guns and took the noise of them for the shattering of the enemy. dead sick of her man on the right. the heaviest weight of the Irish light brigade.. in the form of a firebrand or apple of Discord. beyond Irish. Politics. . Saxon though they be. There was himself. and like one another none the worse for not agreeing: patriotically speaking. like a dish of cream fetched out of thickness to the airiest lightness.. and they were fairly divided and well matched. no other than himself too. Forbery glows and couches his gun. never doubt of it. and this artillery of English Rockney resounds. in spite of her love for her brother John: in common justice. she's really unrooted by that half-thawed colonel. and his power of containing the expression where the sentiment is imagined to be most transparent may have surprised her. And there's another opportunity gone for the old country!--one's family to boot! Those two were in the middle of the table. Possibly she had expected the eyes of such a lover to betray melancholy.. His wife's diplomacy in giving the heiress to Colonel Adister for the evening had received his cordial support while he manoeuvred cleverly to place Philip on the other side of her. Marbury Dyke opens on Forbery's flank to support Mattock hardpressed. And yet it was tempting: the recent Irish news had stung him. She would certainly be snapped up by a man merely yawning to take the bite. imbibing forced doses of Arthur Adister. and there was an unrecognised bard of his country. Jane is one of the first to give her vote for the Irish party. Three heroes out skirmishing on our side. and she and Philip have a pretty wrangle. ladies!. Captain Con could have thumped his platter with vexation. for a punishment to Rockney for his carrying off to himself a flower of the Green Island and holding inveterate against her native land in his black ingratitude. and there was a profound politician. and because she hopes for complete union between the two islands. and it is beyond mortal. and now not a step did the senseless fellow take. And opposite to him was Mr. might knead them together and cut them in batches. a worthy antagonist. give neat thrusts. John Mattock. from one end of a table of eighteen to whip up the whole body of them into a lively unanimous froth. Gallant deeds! and now Mr. Mattock's presence. considering Mr. a giant. And thereupon we debate upon union. and seeing them at it in earnest. like powder in a mine--the same person. yes: union. excepting Rockney's wife. before you think of setting to work to sow the land with affection:--and that 's a crop in a clear soil will spring up harvestthick in a single summer night across St. and already she's leaping to be transplanted. and this champion could be pricked on to a point of assertion sure to fire the phlegm in Philip. On the whole. will find her patriotism dissolving in the natural human current. a sure deserter to the camp of the brave. a creature snow-bound up to his chin.moved by it. And Jane Mattock there. not a word did he have in ordinary civility. she says. Then it begins to grow hot. George's Channel. on the understanding that we have justice. delightful to rouse. only he had pledged his word to his wife to shun politics as the plague.

' 'The fellow's training for diplomacy. and answered dead as a newspaper telegraphic paragraph. and a vast amount of blowing even on the topic of politics. The case appeared hopeless to Captain Con. Jane Mattock's fellow-worker and particular friend. and folded his combative ardour around him. politics forbidden. observed to Dr. Miss Mattock was attentive. get them into any state of fluency at all. and putting a damper on the fire that does the business for them. will stir these English to enter the arena and try a fall. and diverge bounding from the road at the hint of the stick. the lady under his wing. but these English won't take it up as a start for fresh pastures. and said in sympathy: 'Is the bad news from India confirmed?' He feared it was not bright. you see them dwelling on the relish. and have heated yourself to fancy you mean more still. as through a trumpet. Dyke. bearing an eye on Philip. . She had a look as good as handsome when she kindled.' Philip replied. Forbery's anecdote now and then serves its turn. You cannot. 'Your chief has his orders?' 'There's a rumour to that effect. as the soldier's martial cloak when he takes his rest on the field. chewing the cud. by way of mental note for their friends to-morrow. as if they were kettles come here merely for boiling purposes. but very bluntly. it was entirely a dream. seeing that politics alone. and not a bit to spread a general conflagration and illumination. Cousins pretend they're better than pigs. honoured wife of the chairman of his imagined that a sigh escaped him. but they laugh extinguishingly. 'Cousin. ma'am. He surveyed his inanimate eights right and left.' said he. to make tea elsewhere.' said Mrs. admiring Philip's head.' 'My belief is that if our cause is just our flag will triumph. Mrs. 'Nothing that you have not had already in the newspapers. and there an end. He was a rival of Arthur Adister for military brevity. distinctly from afar.' Miss Grace Barrow. presenting simply the corpse of the fact. they lend their ears and laugh a finale to it. They laugh. until you say ten times more than you began by meaning. Marbury Dyke. Nephews I might drive to any market to make the most of them. 'You may be enjoying an original blessing that we in Ireland missed in the cradle.Indeed a goodly vision of strife and peace: but. and called to Philip for the latest. The captain persevered to draw his cousin out. 'Your nephew is quite the diplomatist. Forbery.' Con groaned. You can't get them to grunt more than is exactly agreeable to them. Philip spoke to Miss Mattock: he was questioned and he answered.

a Mr. ma'am.' he suggested. 'You'd be having to mount your drum and fife in their places. Hear it any morning in your London parks. and he agreed with her. 'Is it the flag of Great Britain you're speaking of. 'The flag is only an idea. twinkling for an adversary among the males. Miss Barrow pronounced it cheerful.' said Mrs. it must succeed. 'Or where 's your music?' said the captain. our sailors too. He guessed it at once. 'There's a harp or two in it. he cordially esteemed and hailed the victories of a military body whose idea was Duty instead of Ambition. happy to have caught Rockney's deliberate gaze.She emphasised: 'I speak of the just cause. 'patriotic as I am.' a solemn dupe.' A strong fraternal impulse moved Mr. like the famous mountain. partly bald. and looking more copious than his flow. 'But the fife's a pretty instrument. too distant or too dull to distinguish a note of challenge. Rumford. 'The Unicorn!' he exclaimed. so 's a prince when the attendant dignitaries receive him submissively and hear him informing the nation of his advent. and with a candour that seduced the unwary lady to think dubiously whether she quite liked the fife. It 's the idea that 's grand. of benevolent aspect. A city man himself and a man of peace.' She saw no fear of the necessity. 'The effect of it. Ever since he was a child the difficulty had haunted him. Dyke was not pleased with the tone. and they follow him. And what if he's a small one and a trifle squeaky. at the head of a marching regiment of your giant foot-Guards. he beamed like a man preparing to embrace a recovered sister. Three bangs of the drum. I dare say it is because I do not understand it.' he assented.' She protested against the barbarism of war. Nevertheless. Mrs. 'One thing. I never have yet brought myself to venerate thoroughly our Royal Standard. evading the ambiguous fife. left leg and right leg and bearskin. observed to the lady beside him. Rumford to lean forward and show her the face of one who had long been harassed by the same incapacity to digest that one thing. I hope. 'Oh. and the fife announces himself to be born. .' 'The stainless flag'll be in the ascendant in the long run. but thought it must be: it had always been: he deplored the fatality. without a doubt of the accuracy of the shot. one thing I confess.' he responded pacifically. Forbery?' the captain inquired. and as no one hitherto had even comprehended his dilemma. Dyke.' 'The idea is everything in military affairs. and martial!' he exclaimed. 'And never will be out of it!' she thumped her interjection. he esteemed our soldiers. I'm told in the provinces is astonishing for promoting enlistment.

'The Saxon should carry his White Horse. who're usually wicked at the heels alone. desirous to play a floundering fish. he explained to her. Forbery said. and is dangerous both fore and aft. and means the more for not being perfectly intelligible at a glance. it was. The Lion seems to say "No prancing!" as if he knew his peril.' said Dr.' 'Lion and Unicorn signify the conquest of the two hemispheres. as they've whispered of late. and tender to the known simple goodness of the ingenuous man. And his horn's there to file the subject nation's grievances for the Lion to peruse at his leisure.' 'The Unicorn. and it must be a situation trying to the patience of them both. Only let not that be mistaken for weakness. So it's a splendid Standard. 'The Lion there's no mistake about. as if he understood where he's ticklish. The Unicorn sets you thinking. and he looked humorously rueful while speaking with some earnestness. to show that he knew the subject to be of the minor sort. Forbery? The poor brute had a fall on his pate and his horn grew of it. But women are volatile.' Dr. And his colour's prophetic of the Horse to come. Matter and Mind. he said. Rumford resumed. which we should always be led to see in national symbols. a ridiculous desire to have a perfect comprehension of the idea in the symbol. and he retired within himself. Rumford drank some champagne and murmured with a shrug to the acquiescent lady beside him: 'Irishmen!' implying that the race could not be brought to treat serious themes as befitted the seriousness of the sentiments they stir in their bosoms. 'But how do we account for the horn on his forehead?' Mr. The strong can afford to be magnanimous and forbearing. though she knew him for . She was the next moment laughing at something she had heard with the largest part of her ear. having unfolded a shy secret of his feelings. A wag of his tail would suffice. certainly does not inspire attachment. 'What do you say.' Captain Con remarked. laugh as well as others on the proper occasion. his objection was not really an objection. the sense of devotion. The lady agreed. a fellow bearing a pointed horn at close quarters might do him mortal harm. and she thought the worthy gentleman too simple. be sure. he warned England's enemies for their own sakes not to be deluded by any such patent calumny.'It is the Unicorn!' she sighed. and it 's to prove that he has got something in his head. that is to say. though it was not enough to trip and jar a loyal enthusiasm in the strictly meditative. assuring the lady that he accepted our standard in its integrity. which is not the case with other horses. happens to be stuffed with straw or with what's worse. 'Two would have been better for the harmony of the Unicorn's appearance. Forbery. that rides over all. 'The Lion is noble.' Mr.' Mr. if I may speak by my own feelings. He could. or near it. But where there was no seriousness everything was made absurd. Forbery. with sawdust. which were keenly patriotic in a phlegmatic frame. I suppose. He was personally a little hurt.' 'But if the Lion. As for the Lion being stuffed. and the Unicorn to threaten a playful dig at his flank. Rumford sadly queried. That's it.

She excused herself for laughing: 'They are so preposterous!' 'Yes. and were now baiting the Lion. Forbery had driven the Unicorn to shelter.one who had amassed wealth.' he answered.' The lady laughed again. Then women might set you an example.' 'But why cannot men be temperate in their political arguments?' 'The questions raised are too close about the roots of us. He is sound at heart. Rumford covered the wound his delicate sensations had experienced under an apology for Captain Con. then. He praised the Republican people. 'I will venture to guess at nonsense. but a host at his own table may be trusted to shelve politics.' 'To controversy?' 'Temperately conducted. as we do when we are fairly swung by the tide.' 'I fear it is true.' 'More duels come from politics than from any other source. soberly performing the act: and Mr. .' 'I have been in America. and underneath her convulsion she quietly mused on the preference she would give to the simple English citizen for soundness.' 'I should not object.' 'That scarcely follows.' 'By avoiding it?' 'I think you have been out of England for some time. Rumford's legendary forefinger threat. 'What can they be discussing down there?' Miss Mattock said to Philip.' Philip hinted a bow. that would redound to the credit of his artfulness were it not notorious our sensations are the creatures and born doctors of art in discovering unguents for healing their bruises.' 'We are not exactly on the pattern of the Americans. and it came into collision with Mr. yes.' 'That sounds very pessimist.' said he. enviously as poor Londoners in November when they receive letters from the sapphire Riviera.' 'One would go a long way to see the exhibition. Captain Con and Dr. 'O'Donnell has a shrewd head for business. The tremendous import of that wag of his tail among the nations was burlesqued by them. 'Nothing political. There is not a drop of gout in his wine. I can laugh.

'I fancy you're feeling the heat of the room. received the injunction: 'Ten. His appeal to his aunt concerning one of the windows was answered by her appeal to Jane's countenance for a disposition to rise and leave the gentlemen. and on the other a stimulated activity to squeeze it for its juices without any . and remarked: 'Minutes. deliberating. Not a sign had he shown of noticing her state of scarlet. and she reddened: and remembering a foregoing strange sensation she reddened more.' But she was talking to a soldier! 'I mean.' Philip offered a polite affirmative. Captain Con. causing her to suffer cruelly and feel humiliated. I admit. it had tied her to the stake and enveloped her in flames for no accountable reason. The shortness of the period of grace proposed dejection to him on the one hand.' she said.' said she.' from her.' It sounded ludicrous. His grave liquid eyes were unalterable. She had been in her girlhood a martyr to this malady of youth. Jane acknowledged a sensibility to some degree of warmth. to fill an extending gap in the conversation under a blush.' 'Are they so spirited?' Spirited was hardly the word Miss Mattock would have chosen to designate the spirit in them.' he said. And she had not conquered it yet. and conscious of an ultra-swollen phrase. She might have been grateful. I think they are.'Yes. One has need to hope so. but in our own way we are working out our own problems over here. that is not the fault of English women. whose notions of women were probably those of his professional brethren. She hummed a second or two. She knew the pangs of it in public. it flashed through her during the pause that he had been guilty of irony. spirited. yes. monstrous prejudices. evidently formal.' That was nearer the proper tone. and a slower-minded people. holding the door for the passage of his wife and her train of ladies. and in private as well. 'We have infinitely more to contend with: old institutions.' as he shut it. I dare say: much slower. though it had a ring of claptrap rhetoric hateful to her: she had read it and shrunk from it in reports of otherwise laudable meetings. We are not shining to advantage at present. I believe they are. their heads are opening. The colonel was her devoted squire on the instant for any practical service. Still.' Were they? 'They wish to take their part in the work of the world. She was angered to find herself such a merely physical victim of the rushing blood: which condition of her senses did not immediately restore her natural colour. She brought the dialogue to a close. 'They mean nobly. but the reflection that she had made a step to unlock the antechamber of her dearest deepest matters to an ordinary military officer. impelled her to transfer his polished decorousness to the burden of his masculine antagonism-plainly visible. she snatched at it nervously to correct it: 'They are becoming alive to the necessity for action. 'Well. 'They are educating themselves differently. Colonel Adister sidled an eye at a three-quarter view of her face.

as a bard poorly known to fame was constantly urging. Rockney and Mattock could be roused. slow to kindle. CHAPTER XIV OF ROCKNEY Battles have been won and the streams of History diverted to new channels in the space of ten minutes. Epic and Theory have to remain the exception. Battles indeed have been fought. a yoke shaken off. revolts arranged. and grand financial schemes devised. if only there had been freedom of discourse during the dinner hour. and his Preaching of St. Rumford. none of your good old-fashioned order of regimental scribes who take their cue from their colonel.delay. Captain Con had blown his Epic bubbles. whatever we may think in our own hearts. Excepting an inspired Epic song and an original Theory of the Heavens. no bad fellow at bottom. The celestial Theory likewise would have to be worked out to the last figure by the illustrious astronomers to whom he modestly ranked himself second as a benefactor of his kind. Quite the contrary. almost anything noteworthy may be accomplished while old Father Scythe is taking a trot round a courtyard. however. As here. He could own. for example: and that of itself devours more minutes than ten. 'It's I. but when you survey the field in preparation for them you are summoned to observe the preluding courtesies of civilised warfare in a manner becoming a chivalrous gentleman. Rockney was his . notwithstanding that he had accurately read the mock thunder of his brows. a hard-headed rascal. and those reservations should allow the splendid conception to pass for the performance. revering him. Forbery to the vacated seat of the hostess he frowned forbiddingly. and you have often to rouse your foe with a ringing slap. So that. and your wife puts you the pungent question: 'Did you avoid politics. in less of mortal time. when we bring to mind that the conception is the essential part of it. right about face. but these English. the ten disembarrassed minutes allotted to close it would have afforded time sufficient for hearty finishing blows and a soothing word or so to dear old innocent Mr. not to speak of his projected tuneful narrative of the adventures of the great Cuchullin. if he's a sleepy one or shamming sleepiness. and perhaps a kindly clap of the shoulder to John Mattock. a fresh posterity founded. and march this way and that. can't subside in a twinkling. and other national triumphs. not even with the abrupt Napoleon. He was a journalist. You have besides to drill your men. that the world had a right to the inspection of the Epic books before it awarded him his crown. Con?' in the awful solitude of domestic life after a party. Was it ever he that endangered the peace and placability of social gatherings! He sat down prepared rather for a bout with Captain Con than with their common opponents. Patrick. they are for preaching on when they have once begun. Now. Ladies have been won. Rockney too was no bad fellow in his way. He wanted no more than a beating and a thrashing. It never was the merely flinging of your leg across a frontier. is it!' cried the doctor. and the ladies are chilled. betray the past engagement. with as little impediment of principles to hamper their twists and turns as the straw he tosses aloft at midnight to spy the drift of the wind to-morrow. Winding past Dr.

he sparkled and said: 'Let me beg you to pass the claret over to Mr. he pretended to think independently.' 'And neither heady nor over-composed. Rumford. Mr. I never saw him again. there's a saying: Prevention is better than cure: and another that caps it: Drink deep or taste not. and showed his intention to stem the current of liberty. absolutely scattering the precious minutes to the winds. and best for being antedated. sir?' 'Exhaustless if your verses come of it. poured and drank in silence.' 'The fellow was not a lunatic. a fanatical advocate of force. I warrant it for the circulating medium of amity. and the political fires leaped in him. with a blush like Diana confessing her love for the young shepherd: it's one of your own comparisons. As for your golden mean. ''Tis the doctor's antidote. naked and not ashamed. you may say of the verses and the fount.' 'You remind me of a fellow in Dublin who called on me for medical advice. good-hearted and in great need of a drubbing. Any Jury 'd have pronounced him guilty of giving up the ghost before he called. there's a way between magnums of good wine and gout.' Captain Con rapped his friend's knuckles. Certain lines Rockney had written of late about Irish affairs recurred to Captain Con. body and all. and it's generally discovered too late. Stripped they were in all conscience.' retorted the doctor. Forbery. The latter clasped the decanter. and tried to be the statesman of a leading article.' 'And pure. he was an inveterate Saxon.' 'Oh!' Con could have roared his own comparisons out of hearing. for he hated a provocation. if he'll try it. Forbery. I've heard of poor souls packed off by him without an obolus to cross the ferry.' 'That's the Pierian Spring. then! where the golden mean is generally discovered to be his fee. topping anything Rockney might have had to say. 'As long as you're contented with not dating in double numbers. Rockney. He was angry with Forbery for his obstructive dulness and would not taste the . is there!' 'There is. 'There's a golden mean.' 'I let him go.' 'You'd a right to cut him up at once. and found he'd forgotten his purse. He offered to execute a deed to bequeath me his body.' 'At the physician's door. and anything would have served.' 'And what is the wine on my table.' said Dr.own colonel.' "Tis the Comet Margaux. and was entirely deficient in sympathy with the oppressed.

and wore on his drawn eyelids and slightly drawn upper lip a look of lambent pugnacity awake to the challenge. The circumstances did not permit of his being suffered to slip away: and his complexion showed that he might already be classed among the roast. and worshipping him as the personification of your Derbyshire race. 'By the way. Narcissus. . Rumford replied.' Mr. true to the character of the numberless hosts he stands for. mane and tail. Mattock. Right or left of the shield. Rumford. my dear sir. And the pair are intended to indicate that you may see yourselves complete by looking at them separately. Rumford. and fixed in desperation on Mr. The man was a perfect snail's horn for coyness. The wine in Rumford at any rate let loose his original nature. my dear sir. strikes me as easy if you 'll examine the powerfully different colours of the two beasts in it. and on the other hand. and it is of no importance to the point--you have Grandgosier or Great Turk in all his majesty.' Mr. and disdainful of the occasion. Whereas your. indifferent to the antagonist. I'm prepared to say he's there to represent the fair one half of the population. His eyes ranged over his guests despondently. now I think of it. if it failed to unlock the animal in these other unexcitable Saxons. What could Forbery mean by paying compliments and spoiling a game! The ten minutes were dancing away like harmless woodnymphs when the Satyr slumbers. is manifestly a consumer of doctor's drugs. I forget which.' 'Far be it from me to blame you. you should know. as a thoughtful patriot. half chatting to Mr. you behold. and would be glad to account for his one horn and the sickly appearance of the beast. 'One loves the banner of one's country--that is all. but his tawniness tells us he imbibes good sound stuff. is discomposed. none. Mr.' He rubbed his hands. Now will that satisfy you?' 'Quite as you please. quite as you please. Dyspepsia. Rumford. Or there's the alternative of taking him to stand for your sole great festival holiday.sneaking compliment. may have nothing in his head. Rumford protested that he had abandoned his inquiry: it was a piece of foolishness: he had no feeling in it whatever. Unicorn. Your Lion. That doughty Saxon had been half listening. by the inexplicable presence of the Unicorn in the Royal Standard. the interpretation of your Royal Standard. 'Your Lion:--Mr. who got liker to the Lion than to the Unicorn in the act.' A glittering look was in Captain Con's eye to catch Rockney if he would but rise to it. 'I for one am proud of it. and when you gaze on it fondly you're playing the part of a certain Mr. which perplexes you so much. And there you have the symbolism of your country. worthy of the reputation of a noble brewery. whom his magnanimous nature would have spared but for the sharp necessity to sacrifice him. and so your Royal Standard is your national mirror. as the showman says.

'that's what you're doing. for he could be a bellicose gentleman by deputy of the flag. pricked on the point of honour as a soldier! Are we inevitably to be thwarted by our own people? 'I suppose we all work for pay.' said he.' Philip replied. and withdrew into his wound for safety. as Prospero his Ariel. executioners. and send abroad to do the work of war while you propound the doctrines of peace at home.' 'Not at any price?' Philip fancied his tone too quakerly. The question is what we fight for. He recollected that the speaker was a cousin of Captain Con's. shocked by the inconsiderate punctuality of Mrs.' 'We obey our orders. Forbery declined the fray. Rumford. and at the same time your journals are venting their fine irony at the Austrians and the Russians and the Prussians for tearing Poland to strips with their bloody beaks. perhaps. 'There's hardly a day in the year when your scarlet mercenaries are not popping at niggers. Rumford.' said Con. 'It seems to me a cry of the streets to call us by hard names. for here was the coffee coming round. Rumford to soothe him. hirelings. in a form of apology for his relative.'We have too little of your enthusiasm for the flag. but he feared a snare. Adister O'Donnell's household. 'Indeed I am not one of that party!' said Mr. honestly unable to digest the opprobrious term. whom you call volunteers. 'Here and there. 'You fight to subjugate.' He spoke with a witless moderation that was most irritating. red and swelling. 'Surely no! not in England?' said Mr. 'Paid soldiery. to enslave. not when we are roused. by a charming euphemism. Rumford. and leave you to settle the political business. beginning to glow. an appeal for the close of the sitting. considering the latest news from the old country. and the captain commended the spiriting of it. 'Our what?' asked Mr. and as Dr. Patrick was eagerly watchful and dumb.' Rockney had the flick on the cheek to his manhood now. if the world will let us. he did likewise. and the other made a . we want rousing. and his wound drew him in again. Who should intervene at this instant but the wretched Philip. and Mattock and Rockney escaping without a scratch. Forbery responded to it by pushing back his chair. The wine was in them. 'When are you ever at peace!' quoth his host.' Philip said to Mr.' Rockney's forehead was exquisitely eruptive. tempted to open his heart. we greatly prefer to live at peace with the world. Mattock lurched on his chair. it might be hoped. Rockney finished his coffee with a rap of the cup in the saucer.

he took it lightly. She had no great admiration of the sentimental Sicilian composer. for the reason of its showing them bigger and brighter. and winter a holy season to him. yet she sang as if possessed by him. 'It will surprise you perhaps to hear that I prefer German music. if only by justifying their opinion that we're born buffoons. poor fellow!' All hope of a general action was over. It was too late to catch at a trifle to strain it to a tussle. 'He thinks and he feels. hearing Rockney say: 'Captain Con O'Donnell is a politician or nothing. and she sang. Mattock that a long look in among them was often his prayer at night. Irish or French. accepting the one he selected as the favourite of his brother Philip's. though she said: 'That one?' with a superior air. The disappointed hero of a fight unfought had to give the signal for rising.movement.' said she. 'I can tell my wife with a conscience we've had a quiet evening. informing Mr. Patrick . Patrick had heard of him in Paris. 'That shall pass for the epitaph of the living. Then he took her place on the music-stool.' said Rockney. 'You know the secret of your happiness. she confessed.' said Con: 'though we don't happen to have much choice of virgins for ye to-night.' But the note was peaceful. He begged for another song and she complied. Con was obliged to subjoin: 'Inscribe it on the dungeon-door of tyranny. and with an electrifying splendour of tone and style. Double the number of the ten minutes had elapsed. Irish are popular. and said. He expressed a wish that the fog had cleared for him to see the stars of heaven before he went to bed. Patrick was asked to sing. He sprang up. They don't mind having us musically. my son. and you're a witness to it.' His happy conscience enabled him to court his wife with assiduity and winsomeness. That consolation remained. and give us a thrilling song at the piano. 'Know you one of the secrets of a young man's fortune in life. 'Well. Miss Mattock accompanied him at the piano. and the ladies were once more elated by seeing how chivalrously lover-like an Irish gentleman can be after years of wedlock. it's in Italian!' she summed up her impressions of the sickly words while scanning them for delivery. 'But where--who had the honour of boasting you his pupil?' She mentioned a famous master. 'But it's the very heart of an Italian you sing with!' he cried. It was a mellifluous love-song from a popular Opera somewhat out of date.' he said to Patrick.' Patrick answered. And if we'd go on joking to the end we should content them. with half a groan that it had not come earlier. Had she.' and as he was the most placable of men concerning his personality.

He dropped his underlip. The reminiscences of those pale intuitions made them always affectingly vivid.' She assured him she was no enigma: she hushed to him to hear. been bent upon charming Philip. one with whom something could be done to steady him. I don't know. Leaving her friend Miss Barrow at the piano. but never seen it. mio tradito amor!' 'Touch. He had applauded her mechanically. He might be taught to appreciate Beethoven and work for his fellows.' she exclaimed.' he was honest enough to reply. This time she could track it definitely to its origin. She detected herself now in the full apprehension of the fact before she had sung a bar: it had been a very dim fancy: and she denounced herself guilty of the knowledge that she was giving pain by singing the stuff fervidly. 'Now does not that touch you more deeply than the Italian?' said she. there was a gesture in her dismissal of the leaves displaying critical loftiness. She lost sight of the Jesuit. she took a chair in a corner and said. not like his inscrutable brother. delicately mouthing: 'I. and she had to hush at him again.' 'There is. will soften general prejudices--if he was Irish. Patrick noticed it and said. you will hear the music that moves me. O'Donnell. 'I have often felt it. too. keeping on the conversation with his eyes until he was caught by the masterly playing of a sonata by the chief of the poets of sound. .' 'But it's not to be singing. improve him. an allegro con brio.thought. but he took the close of the introductory section. she could not have thrown more fire into the notes. He was caught by it. and it was not that circumstance which caused the second rush of scarlet over her face. There's a forest on fire in it. direct him. 'And how can you sing so gloriously what you don't care for? It puzzles me completely.' said Patrick. and could not resist smiling at her lullaby to the prattler. a not unfavourable inclination towards the person sitting beside us and sharing that sweetness. after thrilling the room. for the end. in the same breath that accused her of never feeling things at the right moment vividly. or hopefuller edition of Captain Con. a better. But what vanity in our emotional state in a great jarring world where we are excused for continuing to seek our individual happiness only if we ally it and subordinate it to the well being of our fellows! The interjection was her customary specific for the cure of these little tricks of her blood. 'Now. Patrick smiled in response. 'It's you that haven't given it a fair chance I'd like to hear it again. he was boyishly Irish. with the thrill of her voice lingering in him: 'What is it you do like? I should so like to know. A lover's favourite song is one that has been sung by his love. Exchanges of smiles upon an early acquaintance between two young people are peeps through the doorway of intimacy. And when she had done.' She was answering when Captain Con came up to the piano and remarked in an undertone to Patrick: 'How is it you hit on the song Adiante Adister used to sing?' Miss Mattock glanced at Philip. Mr. Under the influence of good music.

O'Donnell is a great enthusiast for music. Miss Mattock. O'Donnell. Mrs.' 'And.' 'I can't believe it. It 's true I want to travel and see a bit of the world to help me in my work by and by.' 'Work. for a year. who was then looking down the features of Mrs. Miss Mattock. How true!' 'But any music I could listen to all day and all the night.' She answered him.' said he. he tells me. 'And can one picture Colonel Adister the secretary of a Laundry Institution. though.' 'Do you hear Mr. The object was possibly perceived. I want to work. half jocosely: 'A whole year of free service? Reflect on what you are undertaking. 'Would he not sicken of it in a week. I'm empty-handed.' 'I can do it: I will. Adister?' . and you will believe it. no worse?' 'Writing and accounts all day. What could she mean? Mrs. Adister was allowed no time to set the manoeuvre in motion. Adister O'Donnell stepped over to them. Rockney. Adister?' 'But why should I?' cried Patrick.' 'It's writing and accounts. if you'll have me. Mrs. to the idle it would turn to evil. 'Mr. and only doubts his ability.' said Miss Mattock. Mrs. like other gifts of heaven. Patrick said: 'I'm ready.You exactly describe it. Adister. when we have resolved to incur the expense of a salaried secretary.' Mrs. 'It's a gift of heaven. 'And be as proud of yourself the next morning?' Patrick was rather at sea.' 'But. and music in the evening only now and then. Adister turned her head to the colonel.' said Miss Mattock. with the object of installing Colonel Adister in Patrick's place. I'm ready to try anything I can do. 'The doubt throws a shadow on the wish.' 'Has it ever struck you that you might try to help the poor?' 'Arthur is really anxious. receiving directions from Grace and me! We should have to release him long before the six months' term.' said Mrs. and could listen to it all day and all night.

'And not later than to-morrow evening I'll land him at your office. diligently.' She replied: 'I warn everybody that they shall be taken at their word if they volunteer their services. and there's that to enliven him.' 'Take 'em in flank when you can't break their centre.Captain Con fluttered up to his wife.' he suggested to his wife. that is not to be thought of seriously. it's permissible to turn a corner. It breaks my heart sometimes to see how near they are to doing well. He fancied he saw a thread of good luck for Philip in it. and heard the story from Miss Mattock. we do not get the best of the English--not the women of the north.' he said. 'You'll learn he has a head. She was not a whit less hospitable. 'Yes.' said she. 'That's good for a beginning. 'No. imagine him on a stool.' said Con. 'But where there's an obstruction in the road.' She was bidden to know by the captain that the word of an Irish gentleman was his bond.' said the captain. 'And if he accepts.' Miss Mattock addressed the volunteer.' Captain Con backed him for diplomacy. Besides. And with Mr. Intelligently certainly compared with our English. 'But I am. 'a whisper of cajolery in season is often the secret. my dear madam.' She deliberated.' 'I am myself naturally blunt. and prefer the straightforward method.' said Patrick. excited by the breaking of her heart. and he added: 'Miss Mattock. 'Our house could be Patrick's home capitally. on the whole. Does he know anything about steam?' 'The rudimentary idea.' 'If they're Irish. Miss Mattock. he couldn't sit it!' Miss Mattock laughed.' said Patrick. when they take to their work. We do not get the best of them in London. You say they work well. We have to put up with the rejected of other and better-paying departments of work. For that matter. I'm proud if one of my family can be reckoned worthy of assisting in your noble work. you shall really try whether you can endure the work for a short time if you are in earnest. he'll find countrywomen of his among you. but for such a little want of ballast. . O'Donnell it would be probationary for the first fortnight or month. only hinting that she thought the refusal of the post was due to Arthur. Patrick nodded. 'Well. intelligently.

and this way we're voluntary drudges. Why not all the benefaction on our side. she very considerately resigned herself to Mrs. But never forget that old Ireland is weeping! O never forget that old Ireland is weeping The bitter salt tears of the mother bereft! He hummed the spontaneous lines.' he sighed. it's all according to the turn. and that way we're lucky dogs. We turn to the right or the left. and he hinted at an objection of his wife's to spirited Irish songs of the sort which carry the sons of Erin bounding over the fences of tyranny and the brook of tears. He was accused of singing to himself. And if there was none. And perhaps Mr.' Captain Con applauded the final words between them. Mr.' 'And mine is about the smallest. Jane Mattock was a good soul worth saving. Rockney might hear a tale in verse as . and he could have jumped at the thought of Patrick's cleverness: it was the one bright thing of the evening. he said. and he would break down in it.' 'But you'll have me?' 'Gladly. This being settled. the heavens appeared to decree. Miss Mattock pressed him to sing.' Rockney assured him that he could listen to anything in verse. though she accepted the wrong young man for but a shadow of the right sort of engagement. though they were remarkably fine likenesses of a pair in the dead midway of the journey. Adister's lead and submitted herself to a further jolting in the unprogressive conversational coach with Colonel Adister. Rockney. He shook his head.' 'I did not mean that. he was ready in imagination to see his cousins play the part of either. Captain Con reflected. 'Observe the sneer:--for our verses are smoke. as the cross-roads offered. and a figo for rewards! Devotees or adventurers. the fate of it. unrelieved by a tussle with Rockney. Evidently those two were little adapted to make the journey of life together. They had the genial ring. There was a clear gain in it somewhere.' said Con. And if I sing I shall be charged with casting a firebrand at Mr. If he sang. 'I can't. but whipping wooden horses. by the sudden combination of enthusiastic Irish impulse and benevolent English scheming. O'Donnell. and a song was vigorously demanded of him by the ladies. 'I was plucking the drowned body of a song out of the waters to give it decent burial.'We are too poor at present to refuse the smallest help. whose fault as a driver was not in avoiding beaten ways. it would be an Irish song. But he had saddened his mind about old Ireland: the Irish news weighed heavily on him.

with pilot and captain at sword and pistol. as we bow to a commanding officer who has insulted us and will hear of it. therefore it might be a punishable offence. beyond an allusion to an accident to John Mattock's yacht off the Irish west-coast last autumn. Their cooler heads are shrewd enough to see the folly. and we have allowed it to be supposed that it frightens us. not less than his desire to please her. Her small round eyes were wide-open. 'No one knows but them above!' he said aloud. fons et origo. 'Oh! on another occasion I'm the lark to the sky. and the Irishmen together. but it catches the Irish fancy to rush to the extreme.hard to bear as he sometimes found Irish prose!--Miss Mattock perceived that his depression was genuine. 'Then it shall be on another occasion. the tender would fall adrift on the Atlantic. as did Mr. and Mrs. The fellow was a perfect riddle. nor is it an unjust one either. Rumford.' He proposed to them that they should delay the march on a visit to his cabin near the clouds. They were forced to decline his invitation to the gentle lion's mouth. hearing Mr. Mr. and she supposed the sentence might have a mysterious reference to the plan she had formed. if the verdict be taken simply for an estimate of what is presented upon the plain surface of to-day. with a smile. Some of them get along pretty well in America. But for that. There is the capital blunder. Rockney was taken away by Mr. my dear lady. He put on the proper gravity of a young man commissioned. very briskly and thankfully. Con would have manoeuvred against his wife to send him downstairs at the lady's heels. thirsting for a shindy. Once let them imagine you are afraid of them. and the conscious possessors of an exclusive common sense are called on to deliver a summary verdict. apparently to his wife. hard to read as the zebra lines on the skin of a wild jackass-if Providence intended any meaning when she traced them! and it's a moot point: as it is whether some of our poets have meaning and are not composers of zebra. And what would be the spectacle if they were to cut themselves loose from England? The big ship might be inconvenienced by the loss of the tender. 'What can you be signifying?' she asked him. . and the Englishmen were together. wherein their qualities as individuals and specimens of a race were critically and neatly packed. The air of their Ireland intoxicates them.' she said.' Her carriage was announced. Irishmen are queer fellows. her head was up and high. for it was to be a curious experiment. but no show of weakness. madam. Philip bowed to her stiffly. 'I dare say that was what I had in my mind. and hardly a syllable relating to the Englishmen did the Irishmen say. and they see perfect independence in their grasp. So the party separated. Mattock and Mr. Common sense is necessarily critical in its collision with vapours.' he replied to her repetition of his words. 'The question of rain. without a dimple of a smile. too easily. She gave Patrick a look. but the Irishmen were subjected to some remarks by the Englishmen. They require the strong han d: fair legislation. She had deputed Colonel Arthur to conduct Miss Mattock and Miss Barrow to their carriage. Marbury Dyke. the crew playing Donnybrook freely. She was easily appeased. Rockney agree to walk in company to their clubs. never satisfied.

if you had done him the kindness to pick up his glove. strange to say. hazy speeches. Treat them as policemen treat highwaymen: give them the law: and the law must be tightened. which had the ring of some current phrase. good sense too. to account for the Captain's shrewdness. not without shrewdness: he seemed to be sobered by the money question. 'They seem to marry oddly in that family. Concessions. which was the length of time he granted this ardent volunteer for evaporating and vanishing.' said Mattock. Forbery 's a more dangerous man. if they kick at it.' Rockney said. There's no intentional mischief in Con O'Donnell. O'Donnell--did you notice him? I told you I met him a day or two back--seems willing to be of use. requesting to have a sight of the secretary's books at the expiry of the week.' after affecting thoughtfulness.Their leaders now pretend to work upon the Great Scale. Grace has too much on her hands. 'Women are educated so shamefully that we have not yet found one we can rely on as a competent person. 'As to repression. His wife keeps him quiet. And Mr.' . Next morning Jane Mattock spoke to her brother of her recruit. you would have missed that instructive scene this evening at Con O'Donnell's table.' 'Is she such a beauty?' Again Mattock answered: 'Yes. Con O'Donnell comported himself decorously as a director. It cannot hurt him to try. He had his joke about it. they demand everything on the spot upon their own interpretation of equity. Hold off. Rockney was for sharp measures in repression. He knows the length of his line. 'She manages him cleverly.' Mattock let fly a short laugh at the remark. on the whole. 'Fair legislation upon your own interpretation of fair. or we should be hearing of him. 'That wife of his is the salvation of him. It 's wisest to let them exhaust their energies upon one another. He talks of a niece of his wife's: have you ever seen her?--married to some Servian or Roumanian prince. He entirely trusted to her discretion. have encouraged them so far and got us into the mess. 'If it releases poor Grace for a week. the idea of a young Irish secretary was rather comical. nevertheless. and they're soon at work.' 'What kind of director of a City Company does he make?' said Rockney. and declined to uncork him. and the puling nonsense of our present Government. it's only effervescence. Mattock bethought him that. generally speaking on the reasonable side. like the hold on a rogue by his collar.' Mattock answered: 'Yes. fair legislation in due course. She's a woman of principle. whose party opposed Rockney's.' Jane said.' he said. and barring the marriage. 'They do. I saw his game. it will be useful to us.

'She has a dozen persons. as it might have done but for the veracious picture of Patrick in the word 'eager. For that matter. indulged in no extravagances. the brother of our secretary.' which pricked the scepticism of a practical man. or be assailed by the customary proposal. A certain eagerness of her own in speaking of it sharpened her clear features as if they were cutting through derision. . 'Determined to master details' he could have accepted.' 'They are zealous when they are led.' said John Mattock. Patrick's voracity after details exhibited a doubtfully genuine appetite. Jane said. is handsomer. Patrick O'Donnell would be as good as his word.' She was directed to furnish a compendious report of the sayings. Jane was her own mistress and could very well take care of herself. I don't doubt. He locked his mouth. eager to master details.' she said. O'Donnell had been studious of his duties. One may be determined to find a needle in a dust-heap. 'Any proposals from curates recently?' 'Not of late. and John deferred his amusement until the termination of the week or month when his dear good Jane would visit the office to behold a vacated seat. Her brother was of opinion that Mr. and might be expected to appear there while the novelty lasted. 'Only a notion of mine.' 'Beware of letting them suspect that they are led. Captain O'Donnell. had asked pertinent questions. but we do not think him so trustworthy. they have not betrayed eagerness for such dry stuff. looking at her with a twinkle she refused to notice. 'If I find him there.' 'Good men. and he inclined to think his sister guilty of casting her protecting veil over the youth. CHAPTER XV THE MATTOCK FAMILY That evening's report of the demeanour of the young Irish secretary in harness was not so exhilarating as John Mattock had expected. one does not with any stiffness of purpose go at a dust-heap eagerly. She stated it to propitiate her brother. Irishmen were not likely to be far behind curates in besieging an heiress. It appeared that Mr. shown no flippancy. He has a conspirator's head. Hungry men have eaten husks. had spoken upon no other topic. Did you observe him at all?--he sat by me.' 'What is that?' her brother asked her. he had confidence in her wisdom. and behaviour of the Irish secretary in the evening. He seemed.' 'They are anxious to help the poor if they can discover how. doings.

The things he would strongly object to he did not specify to himself because he was untroubled by any forethought of them. nevertheless that a justifiable faith in the ship. finding himself at the auspicious moment upon a line of rail. where we read of the kind of man. these. which is a lucky accident. persistent and thrifty. but he would not have gone far. He surveyed his England with a ruddy countenance. who had built it from a spade. solid and square. it seems to follow that the exemplar outstripping them vastly must have profited by situation at the start. He grumbled at the heavy taxation of his estate during life: yearly this oppressed old man paid thousands of pounds to the Government. occasional fits of anxiety about affairs. not the drift of our teaching. we may suppose. we are bound to conceive others at work as well as he. still on the sands. against obstacles. and saw the country in the reflection. will fetch some sort of yield out of any soil. popular books for the inciting of young Englishmen to dig to fortune had a place for it among the chapters. in proximity to an oasis. followed by an illuminating conviction that the world is a changing one and our construction not of granite. together with a liking for matters on their present footing in slow motion. joined to a constant study of the chart. a recognised ability of the second-rate order. Prosperity and heartiness. a stout hold of patent principles. despite all assaults and underminings of the common enemy and the particular. behind the country a great deal more. were the prominent characteristics of the grandson of the founder of the house. for the spade-like virtues bear their fruits. Elsewhere he would have moved. as it has done before. It was . The Lord. to whom an old man of a mind totally Hebrew ascribed the plenitude of material success. the Lord and he would have reared a garden in the desert. and in the right direction. where so much was done. excepting when they grew acute and called for drugs. The story of the building was notorious. a moving country. and an accident is an indigestible lump in a moral tale. inherited and embraced. The first John Mattock was a representative of his time. a ready hand on. partly under his conductorship. Behind each there was more. when the empty heirs of his fellows might prefer a modest claim (confused in statement) to compensation against the estate he bequeathed: for such prophecy as that would have hinted at a tenderness for the mass to the detriment of the individual.He was besides of an unsuspicious and an unexacting temperament. It was not mentioned in the popular books. with the humorous indifference of familiarity and constitutional annoyances. will pull us through. and with friendliness to the race of man of both colours. to produce the sum: and since. The salient features wore a resemblance. Business. real though the story be. than could be displayed by a glass. and the means by which the country has executed its later giant strides of advancement. As little did they think of foretelling a day. commercial and marine. His England saw much of itself in him. generations hence. he moved when the country was moving. in the belief that our Creator originally composed in black and white. political. and over. left few vacancies in his mind other than for the pleasures he could command and enjoy. to make the day secure and supply a somniferous pillow for the night. nor did those worthy guides to the pursuit of wealth contain any reminder of old John Mattock's dependence upon the conjoint labour of his fellows to push him to his elevation. An accumulation of upwards of four hundred thousand pounds required. as the moral of the popular books does not sufficiently indicate. an ardent sphere. a full purse. and such tenderness as that is an element of our religion.

dying sour. instead of letting plain nature speak her uncorrupted tongue to the contemplative mind. facing the door) in our exhibition of the chosen artists. they flocked to it thirsting and retired from it thoughtful. They learnt from it. with some belief of having drunk of nature in art. And as quickly as you perceive the contrast you swallow the moral. That it passed into the blood of England's middle-class population. have shone unambiguously as carrots. And here the moral of the popular books turned aside from him to snatch at humanity for an instance of our frailness and dealt in portentous shadows:--we are.' There is. very popularly. and it had for a length of seasons an annual position in the foremost rank (on the line. and filled the sails of many a sermon. and the purple plush breeches and twinkling airy calves (fascinating his attention as he makes his humble request to his own. above the people. gentlemen. A bequest to the nation of the best of these pictures of Old John. which our critics of Literature as well as Art are one voice in denouncing. would have been shown wearing her ridiculous crown with some . Six months before his death he appeared in the garb of a navvy. as our popular words should do. and yet by dint of sturdy energy. makes it milk for all time. in the Great City's Green Park. it was formerly of. strange experiments on the complexion of the human face divine--the feminine hyper-aethereally. monstrous atmospherical vagaries that teach nothing. but the deception is not disingenuous. and set many heads philosophically shaking. in her grandfather's epoch. upon the plea that he had never been a democrat. as you will see the countless troops of urchins about the one cow of London. by a very old Yorkshire collector. a splendid example of energy on the road. Compared with the portrait of Jane Mattock in her fiery aureole of hair on the walls of the breakfast-room. a contrast in the bowed master of the Mansion applying to his menials for a day's work at the rate of pay to able-bodied men:--which he is not. There he appealed to the white calves of his footmen for a day's work. where. to do what salutary work it may within you. and I baint done yet':--SEE PROFESSOR SUMMIT'S 'MEN WHO HAVE COME TO FORTUNE. The girl of his day thus adorned by Nature. we perceive at a glance. The contrast flashed with the rapid exchange of two prizefighters in a ring. it struck the spectator's eye and his brain simultaneously with pugilistic force: a reference to the picture in the catalogue furnishing a recapitulation of the incident. not the great creatures we assume ourselves to be. humbly soliciting employment at his own house-door.poor encouragement to shoulder and elbow your way from a hovel to a mansion! He paid the money. Degeneracy is the critical history of the Arts. 'I've worked a good bit in my time. The scene had been described with humanely-moralising pathos in the various books of stories of Men who have come to Fortune. before the sickly era displacing Exhibitions full of meaning for tricks of colour. a forbidding one at the terminus. on the one side. The fustian suit and string below the knee. is known to those who lived in days when Art and the classes patronising our Native Art existed happily upon the terms of venerable School-Dame and studious pupils. it should be known. Like the first John Mattock. these domestic knights) to right and left of the doorway and in front. Jane's hair was of a reddish gold-inwoven cast that would. when the complex overwhelms the simple. and excess of signification is attempted. hit straight out of the canvas. and a rebuke. The dreaded thing is down in a trice. a perpetual contrast. it marks that fatal period of degeneracy for us.

as a poetical splendour. and the icebergs and hummocks about him. His features are distinguishable and delicate: you would suppose him appearing to you under the beams of a common candle. cited in our prints. He is the ghost of the painter's impasto. and it was an agreeable sentiment. wearing the rose of briny breezes. received comments from various newspaper articles. Her brother also is presented: a fine portrait of him. ready for the responsibilities of the title. On the wall. Yet this is Ezra Mattock. The whole square of canvas is like a meadow on the borders of June. coming opportunely. dated a generation back. the subject is a modern Viking. He married an accomplished and charitable lady. he looks for adventure without a thought of his heroism--the country all over. just above his shoulder. or cottage coalfire --ferruginously opaque. phantomly the man. a telescope under his left arm. The object of the artist (apart from the triumph of tone on the canvas) is to introduce him as an elegant and faded gentleman. how mightily he was one had not entered into the calculations of the public until the will of the late Ezra Mattock. and she did not spoil the stock in refining it. a view of Spitzbergen through a cabin-window: for John had notions about the northwest passage. his death shook the country: for though it had been known that he had been one of our potentates. The portrait of John's father. With his brass-buttoned blue coat. the truth would have been told in a dexterous concealment--a rope of it wound up for a bed of the tortoise-shell comb behind. Asia. the awakening energy of the foreigner--a prodigious . His brown coat struggles out of the obscurity of the background. The portrait is clearly no frontispiece of his qualities. It causes blinking. is a sketch of a Viking putting the lighted brand to his ship in mid sea. and the Americas with iron rails. The head of the heiress is in a Jovian shower. and really seem to swear we shall admire it. his right forefinger on a map. What does our modern artist do but flare it to right and left. and his convict hair--a layer of brickdust--and his air of princely wealth. at the tail of articles that had been discussing a curious manifestation of late--to-wit. These degenerate artists do work hard for their money. but it is chiefly background clothing him. and a pair of tight cornucopias at the temples. defying mankind to suspect that he cherishes a grain of romance. and we should not have had her so unsparingly crowned. and you are to understand that his time is come and so should a Viking die: further. and his high coloured cheeks. rather retiring into darkness than emerging. is just the man and little else. and if an amateur. against our traditions of the vegetable. lift it wavily over her forehead. revel in the oriental superabundance. practical in every line of his face. There he stands. Sketches of our ancient wooden walls and our iron and plated defences line the panellings. after covering Europe. and died. who multipled the inheritance of the hundreds of thousands into millions. Marigolds are in her hand. in blue array. as it did. A chuckle of collateral satisfaction ran through the empire. he had spent a winter in the ice. All England and her dependencies felt the state of cousinship with the fruits of energy. was not the less a true sailor. if you will. one of the few Christians that can hold up their heads beside the banking Jew as magnates in the lists of gold. and a scientific seaman and engineer to boot. smiling. His life passed quietly. with clipped red locks.decent sulkiness. a lover of the sea.

The poetry was not cited. by no means a thrifty race. iron. No deterioration of the stock was apprehended. Statistics were then cited. or it will ultimately be unable to feed its young--nay. to feast its aldermen! Let us be up and alive. So accustomed had we become to the predominance of our position that it was difficult at first to realise a position of rivalry that threatened our manufacturing interests in their hitherto undisputed lead in the world's markets. it was to be feared. They were started at our dinner-tables. Mr. like the sidereal system. they were perhaps livelier than in the preface. A country breeding hugely must prove its energy likewise in the departments of the mind. Others were energetic too! We were not. Carthage was named. The explosion of a particular trade points to your taking up another. Ezra's legacy of his millions to son and daughter broke like a golden evening on the borders of the raincloud. if we pleased. an ancient song of raven recurrence croaked of 'Old England a-going down the hill'. in the streets. We were possessed of certain positive advantages. Things could not be so bad when a plain untitled English gentleman bequeathed in the simplest manner possible such giant heaps. Why should we not learn to excel in Art? We excelled in Poetry. the world's gold-mine. Energy is adapted to flourish equally in every branch of labour. Outside these dismal assemblies. nor was it necessary. They might approximately be counted. for there is a link of electricity between the street-boy and the leading article in days when the Poles exchange salutations. The contemplation of a million stupefies: consider the figures of millions and millions! Articles were written on Lombard Street. commanding all the crossroads. but we were. we could. It is the genius of the will. Not less than in the articles. they were distressing nevertheless. We must look round us.--Such was the exhortation of a profound depression. The minds of the readers of journals were now directed to think of the hoarded treasures of this favoured country. of wealth to his children. and accept the facts as they stood. the store of jewels held by certain private families called for remark and an allusion to Sindbad the sailor. surpassing all actual and fabulous gold-mines ever spoken of: Aladdin's magician would find his purse contracting and squeaking in the comparison. Our Poets were cited: not that there was a notion that poems would pay as an export but to show that if we excel in one of the Arts we may in others of them. Then. if they did but know it. a very Pelion upon Ossa. the object being to inflate the balloon of paradox with a light-flying gas. to imagine we were without rivals in the field. the sermon ran. a great mercantile community absolutely obliterated! Senatorial men were led to propose in their thoughtfullest tones that we should turn our attention to Art. and an industrious population. As when the gloomy pedagogue has concluded his exhortation. but even if counted they would be past conception. and scourged the social converse. The tale of our exports for the last five years conveys at once its moral and its warning.apparition on our horizon. lie by and pass two or three decades as jolly . we had coal. whose eyes were to dilate wider than they did in the valley of diamonds. and there was reason for doubt whether in the matter of industry we were quite up to the mark of our forefathers. they led invariably to the question of our decadence. still the nation must be accused of a lack of vigilance. our granary of energy. statistics birched the land. Why. and prove a poem-producing people to be of their nature born artists. too.

but to have the cap. Laudatory articles upon the soldierly 'march past' of our volunteers permit of a spell of soft repose. hardly sensible of the holiday in our pockets though we were the last people to do it. .! You see the straight deduction from the circumstances:--we are. The unostentatious millionaire's legacy to his two children affected Mr. John's entry into Parliament as a Liberal was taken for a sign of steersman who knew where the tide ran. His bards were awake to his anxiety. Mr. who have so sweetly sung our senses to sleep. His bards flung out their breezy columns. Unhappily. rush to the doctor and the blacksmith. there are spectators of its method of getting to an equipoise out of the agitation of extremes. and celebrated John Mattock's doings with a trump and flourish somewhat displeasing to a quietly-disposed commoner. and whetted the appetite of our masses. might excuse a little reasonable pride in ourselves. much to the nation's comfort. proclaim ourselves intestinally torn. Bull. and robbers about to try a barely-bolted door. given the foreigner glimpses. Bull's latest view of himself. rig alarums. That is historical. at the end of it. it was remembered. The peep at our treasures to regain composure had. Then do we. blood that is blue will beat the red hollow. like the thunder of Jove. we were the sole people that had the option. The spectre. preached on the theme of our peculiar Republicanism. deeper than prudent. but the pessimist frenzy of the night has tossed a quieting sop to the Radical. warns us of a sack under our beds. though he is not of lucid memory. So much for a passing outline of John Bull--the shadow on the wall of John Mattock. Could he believe in the existence of a son of his. It is discovered to be no worse than an alderman's dream. who had never sighed (and he had only to sigh) to die a peer. our House of Lords was pledged solemnly in reams of print. like the two great parties in the State. Soon after he was observed fondling the Crown Insignia. or a baronet.cricketers and scullers. in their grip. we fear. Our Fortunatus' cap was put to better purposes. and his choice of parties might not be so much sagacity as an instance of unripe lightheadedness. and the subsiding see-saw restored a proper balance. . We were told that 'blood' may always be betted on to win the race. and English aristocracy received the paean. defenceless. No sooner are we at peace than these are heard uttering low howls. . kept an eye on the owner of those millions. Lectures were addressed to democrats. reverentially monarchial. that ever dogs the optimistic feast. and those are seen enviously glaring. Thus did Optimism and Pessimism have their turn. The Republican was informed that they were despised as a blatant minority. start up. India and Ireland consenting. a Republican people! Newspaper articles on the watch sympathetically for Mr. Bull thrillingly. precluded thought of an answer. and resume the race for wealth with the rest of mankind. and summoned the volunteers to a review. and not to be emasculated by the possession. Panic. or simple Knight? The downright hard-nailed coffin fact was there. But your Liberals are sometimes Radicals in their youth. the wealthiest man in the country had flown away to Shadowland a common Mr. Who could pretend to despise the honour of admission to the ranks of the proudest peerage the world has known! Is not a great territorial aristocracy the strongest guarantee of national stability? The loudness of the interrogation. a master of millions. pretty nearly as it has here been dotted in lining. say what you will. a prey to foes within and without. A maudlin fit of worship of our nobility had hold of him next.

But they were not so successful with the lady governing the household. They both had an established ideal of their personal qualities. The stroke of the deeper self-knowledge rarely shook them. and all of it in affection. and we do not speak of our dreams--not of every dream. not far above the positive. There were matters which he excluded from confidence. by what each knew at times of the thumping organ within them. flung rudderless on the waves. yet it was a trifle higher and fairer than the working pattern. had not so grave a respect for the sex as for the individual Jane. Distinctly does she discountenance leaps in the dark. They could not be expected to unfold what they declined personally to examine. To her they were without a mask. and be locked up as it were. He gave her a good portion of his heart in confidence. Private reports of John. however. If instinct plays fantastical tricks when we are sleeping. call it hypocritical? It is their nature disciplined to the regimental step of civilisation. and they were separately aware of an inward smile at one another's partial deception. Brother and sister preserved their little secrets of character apart. She pointed to incidents of their youth. a woman of decisive penetration. which seems to admonish us that the heir of vast wealth should have it imposed on him to accept a peerage. and some of the latest enrolled are the stoutest defenders of the flag. Anything beside it was a dream. The wealth of her nephew and niece caused such a view of them to be. they had. Jane the most romantic of Eve's daughters. wild driving. We pay this homage to the settled common sense of women. but the soul swayed by passion is ignominiously bare-poled. Ah that abject! The dismantled ship has the grandeur of the tempest about it. Do you perchance. John was passion's slave. as it happened. and albeit they were sincere enough. even from intimate communication with himself. you are almost expected to do it. his bright-faced sister he could thoroughly trust for prudent conduct. These he could not reveal. but you are to shake that young pate of yours restively under such a splendid encumbrance. and that it should be but occasionally difficult to them shows an affinity with the type. He thought women capable of acts of foolishness. O continental observers of the race. The very wealthy young peer is never wanton in his politics. When it was added that the man had the habit of taking counsel with his sister. anxious past . and an insubordinate recruit of the army aforesaid. Lackstraw. hooted by its old assumption. merely progressive. You may let out your heels at the social laws. A coronet steadies the brain. Mrs. since they were neither of them pretentious. for the same reason. Socially these island men and women of a certain middle rank are veterans of an army. nor could she perfectly open her heart to him. they were able to live with full sensations in the animated picture they were to the eyes best loved by them. detected. gave him credit for sound opinions: he was moderate. and the freaks of Radicalism. cause for doubting that they were as transparent as the other supposed. their widowed maternal aunt. as she remarked. quite sincere in their mutual intercourse.A young conservative millionaire is less disturbing. John. he was at once considered as fast and safe. This in fact was their life. which did not thwart their honest power of working up to the respected ideal. not because of any public knowledge of the character of Jane Mattock. Especially do we reserve our speech concerning the dream in which we had a revelation of the proud frame deprived of a guiding will. her vision was acutely retrospective. let it be ever behind a curtain. We can be held guilty only if we court exposure. The ideal of English gentleman and gentlewoman is closely Roman in the selfrepression it exacts.

he dashed a few sketches of mother and sisters. have faith in this young Irishman? He possessed an estate. Never was there such a name to smell of the soil. and the tale of his going down to the city for a couple of hours each day to learn the art of keeping books was of very dubious import in a cousin of Captain Con O'Donnell. and an invitation to come down to her farm in the Spring. Mr.' she said. the question was put. Patrick was presented at her table.endurance. Mrs. 'A trifle so. Why not?--his heart was evidently much more interested in her pursuits than in her niece's. and of his own poor estate. with the emphasis on each word. Could one. whose farm and dairy in Surrey he heard her tell of with a shining glance. He spoke little. He was an absentee for his education. what a true Union we should have! She had always insisted on those three things as most to be desired on earth for the masses. and demanded the right to inspect him. The name of Mattock gave her horrors.' 'Oh. were the things he coveted in plenty for his people and himself. She spoke of it openly to prove that Jane must marry a title and John become a peer. and she reminded Jane of it as a curious fact. appeared simple. Jane acquiesced. She had steeled herself against an Irish tongue. I'm bound apprentice for a year. potatoes and bread.' he confessed. His easy manners and the occasional streak of correct French in his dialogue cast a shadow on it. He was not alive for his own pleasure. As for Jane. calling forth an echo from Mrs. Patrick O'Donnell. She doubted such perfect disinterestedness in any young man as that he should slave at account-keeping to that Laundry without a prospect of rich remuneration. Mrs. and would like to feel he was doing a bit of good.' said he. Then why did he pursue it. 'That is. Lackstraw asked herself. Oh! if all Irishmen shared his taste for sweet water. she was the natural prey of a threadbare poet. would marry a beggar-maid. 'Let me see your prodigy. The innocent sensuality in the candid avowal of his tastes inspired confidence. he said. having always considered it a curious fact that her aunt should combine the relish of a country life with the intensest social ambition-a passion so sensitive as to make the name her husband had inflicted on her a pain and a burden. if you are still in London. O'Donnell. observing that he liked thick cream: there was a touch of home in it. She had grounds for fearing that John. Lackstraw fished for some account of his home. professed no enthusiasm for the Laundry. She declared . and the peasantry. fresh as trout in the stream. and not one of the actor's properties. who might step to an alliance with any one of the proudest houses in the Kingdom. He was asked whether he did not find it tiresome work. pure milk and wholesome bread. Sweet water. Mrs. with whom he was on friendly terms. Lackstraw. pure milk. The juvenility of him was catching. He was open to flow on the subject. Mrs. dowerless girls. Lackstraw heard of Mr. Lackstraw thought it prudent to hint at the latter idea to Jane while she decided in her generosity to embrace the former. His brogue rather added to his air of truthfulness. if it was indeed the man. was the answer. And he paid no compliments to Jane: of the two he was more interested by the elder lady. Yet he might be an ingenuous creature precisely because of the suspicion roused by his quaint unworldliness that he might be a terrible actor.

when they're genuine and first rate!--are pretty well the pick of the land. when it required all her influence and his father's authority. honest. would have said: 'These Irish fellows. not one of your lunatics concerning his country--he could listen to an Englishman's opinion on that head. notwithstanding the unaccountable part he played as honorary secretary to that Laundry. Mr. a trying doctor for a child of the patient. It is a love resembling the affection of the stage-box for a set of favourite performers. and Patrick.her incapacity to die happy until the two had buried Mattock. was shown in the treatment Patrick received from the Mattock family. was English. On the whole. as much as telling him that now they knew him they trusted him. They are not willingly suspicious: it agitates their minds to be so. a Celt who had schooled his wits to observe and meditate. as Captain Con termed him. Her own one fatal step condemned her.' Perhaps his pause on the interjection expressed a doubt of our getting them genuine. The boy. showing devotion to the good cause and perfect candour from first to last. Irish still. She dealt them out in exclamations. and Rockney was. and a poetic touch beyond: so that John Mattock. The confidences. A service of six months to the secretaryship established his reputation as the strange bird of a queer species: not much less quiet. methodical. as Lackstraw on her tombstone. Six months of ungrudging unremunerated service. should not be all trunk. O'Donnell was a sort of exceptional Irishman. Press Dragoon about Ireland. had betrayed himself in his mother's days. understood his position with them as one of the gallant and amusing race. however. were common property of the visitors one after another. and they are most easily lulled by the flattery of seeing their special virtues grafted on an alien stock: for in this admiration of virtues that are so necessary to the stalwart growth of man. he was aware. as well as the reason why he had won their private esteem. if we jump out of it to examine its appearance. likeable. what with his mixture of impulsiveness and discretion. when not fretted by them. the tree. They had. in the spiritual sense. if he had finished the sentence instead of lopping it with an interjection. to rescue him from immediate disaster. with proof positive of the woman's unworthiness. John Mattock could shake his hand heartily when he was . they become just sensible of a minor deficiency. and to Lackstraw above the earthly martyr would go bearing the designation which marked her to be claimed by him. and still impulsive. The disposition of the English to love the children of Erin. than an Englishman. but he had the knowledge of his being trusted as not every Irishman would have been. a very strange bird. Lackstraw's confidences on the theme of the family she watched over were extended to Patrick during their strolls among the ducks and fowls and pheasants at her farm. Mrs. merely seeming to take notes. They had only to conquer the weakness native to them--the dreadful tendency downward. The girl had been secretive about the early activity of hers. owing to the opinion she held upon the sacredness of marriage. frail hearts. not devoid of practical ability in a small way--he did his duties of secretary fairly well. listen composedly to Rockney. But for John and Jane the index of Providence pointed a brighter passage through life. pleasant to entertain and talk to. apparently sincere--he had refrained from courting Jane. though her aunt knew of two or three adventures wanting in nothing save boldness to have put an end to her independence and her prospects:--hence this Laundry business! a clear sign of some internal disappointment. an odd creature enough.

the same being almost entirely of the fair. 'And never thirsted to fly till he flew. It was the vice of her condition to be suspicious of the honesty of men. were given without caricature. Con proclaimed it to be merely one of the lad's recollections. facing. The key was explained by a cage on a stool. and know that of all around her she. Grace Barrow was unmistakeable. at a discovery made by Miss Colesworth. Jane brought it to Con as to the proper keeper of the reliquary. he whisked over the leaf. the blotting-paper as well. Her nation was retrospectively enthusiastic. but could not call to . Remembering her chill once on hearing Patrick in a green lane where they botanised among spring flowers call himself her Irish cousin. She had unlocked the cage for Patrick. A repeated sketch of some beauty confused them both.' said Con. she had just enough to tell her they were funny. in a nook of the amateur secretary's official desk. and together they bent their heads. a half-length holding a big key. neither of them could guess the proud owner of those lineaments. Jane fancied she spied herself among the number. upon her receiving his first letter from the Continent. I warrant him. Dozens of scraps. had done service for the overflow of Mr. pursuing the search for more. and Captain Con. The cordiality of her letter of reply to the wandering Patrick astonished him on the part of so cool a young lady. Her inspection of the contents had previously been shy. It was a blotting-pad stuffed with Patrick's jottings. insides of torn envelopes. sometimes freely shouting. of her wealth she had reason to think that the scent transformed our sad sex into dogs under various disguises. though Jane said his correspondence was full of the deeds of his brother in India. She and the captain had an interchange of sparklings over absent Patrick. she called him her Irish cousin now in good earnest. as if he had advanced a step and betrayed the hoof. did Jane distinguish in herself the warmth of friendliness she felt for him. Con saw the likeness. came to the conclusion that the leery lad had gone a far way toward doing the trick for himself. She thought of her looks as less attractive than they were. Patrick was released by Miss Grace Barrow's discovery at last of a lady capable of filling his place: a circumstance that he did not pretend to regret. Only after he had gone. when he heard Miss Mattock speak of Patrick to his wife. He persuaded her to join him in examining it. perhaps a French face. under heaps of pamphlets and slips. laughing. but not considering it a complimentary one. Miss Colesworth appeared on the last page. though that was devoted chiefly to sketches of the human countenance. and very intent eyes gazing out of the knolls and dingles. reproaching every one who had hinted a doubt. after she and the captain had spelt the symbolling in turns. invitation-cards. This was at the expiration of seven months and two weeks of service. ends of bills received from home. had been the most suspicious of his pure simplicity. and a bird flying out.leaving our shores. demure between curls. She quite sparkled in speaking of this boy. 'He never seemed anxious to be released while he was at work. Her dimpled cushion features. He relinquished his post and stood aside with the air of a disciplined soldier. turning leaf by leaf. not at all bearing upon the business of the Laundry. whatever was handy to him at the moment. the lady replacing him. French and English and Irish journals. Secretary's private notes and reflections.' said Jane. He thought he might have seen a face rather resembling it.

and then they 'll regulate the market. CHAPTER XVI OF THE GREAT MR.' To this was appended: 'The better for mankind in the developing process. Power is built on work. meaning power. I should. of course. out of uniform. The volcano we . and am asking for the devil to have the loveliest women as of old. Miss Mattock. as poets write sonnets in their youth to nobody. appeals to a sentiment. May be I am not seeing far enough. the Irish voice. and there is no pretty flying before us. I should lose it to a certainty. Here was one which tickled the ladies and formed a text for discussion. and a bad day for us. M. and the jejuneness was. just like their millinery. 's brother Philip. BULL AND THE CELTIC AND SAXON VIEW OF HIM: AND SOMETHING OF RICHARD ROCKNEY Meanwhile India. they were shrewd--or so she thought them. and hand it to him when he returns. 'I dare say it's just a youngster's dream on a stool at a desk. Strange to say the things she had laughed at had been the things which struck her feelings and sympathies. take it. boys. it 'll come best from you. And man and horse are done to the life. I can't be trusted. when study masks the charming eyes in gig-lamps. You'll take it!' He pressed her so warmly to retain the bundle in her custody that she carried it away. 'The man on horseback. and then there's a difference in their handwriting. ay. and a glance had shown that there was nothing of peculiar personal import in his notes: he did not brood on himself. Retro S. and to a weaker. vexed with Patrick for squandering his opportunity to leave a compliment to the heiress behind him. wore the aspect of an opiate slumber. our lubber giant. and Ireland. and nothing solid comes of a sentiment. made up a quaint mixture. chiefly in the dressing of them. Pray.mind whose face it was. Good-night to Cupid. 'But you'll have the whole book. till they're pierced by somebody. for their oratory. They'd do it as little by oratory as they have done by millinery. 'Women must take the fate of market-fruit till they earn their own pennies. I fear. to her mind. Who could help laughing at his ideas about women! But if they were crude. Jane flipped the leaves back to the lady with stormy hair. Grace agreed with her.' he said.' said Con. had ceased to kick a leg. Patrick's notes here and there recalled conversations he had more listened to than taken part in between herself and Grace Barrow. our fever-invalid. and the perceptible moral earnestness in the background.' The youthful eye on their sex. It is a tussle for money with them as with us. for Grace had as good a right to inspect the papers as she.

Ideal of his country Bull has none--he hates the word. Certain weeds of the human bosom are prompt to flourish where safeness would seem to be guaranteed. and learn to tolerate plain-speaking about him. Some have been so venturesome as to trace the lordliness of Bull to the protecting smiles of the good Neptune. wagering on tentative politics. Coldly worshipped on the whole. which opens to anything and speedily casts out what it cannot consume. What he does not like will then be the forbidding law of a most governable people. your . manifestly blest. and snapped up by some gossip drone of the district. We may deem it native. like that other Foam-Born. but we have made it our own. the salve abject submission to it which we behold in his tidal bodies of supporters. begirt by laughing oceanwaves. Neptune has done something. and he spun. perhaps of its origin Aryan. though you groan for the outer downpour to abate. he glorifies his handsome roundness. what he does like the consenting. is required that we may breathe the atmosphere of a story dealing with such very different views of the idol. and his digestive organs reject it. to your ultimate advantage.couch on was quiet. Bull. The testification to the Sea-God's watchfulness restores his darling who is immediately as horny to argument as before. Neptune shall have his share of the honours. It is an exercise of imagination to accept an ideal. he preaches to mankind from the text of a finger curved upon the pattern spectacles. Spy you insecurity?--a possibility of invasion? Then indeed the colossal creature. causes a perilous rush of his devotees. it smells of heresy. Rounder at each inspection. Nor is there reason to suppose we have drawn the fanatical subserviency from the example of our subject India. Fancy yourself delayed by stress of weather at an inn or an excursion. whom the decorative Graces robed in vestments not so wonderful as printed sheets. A hint of his willingness in any direction. at a rumour of his inefficiency to do the utmost. of stoutly independent incomes are prone to the same sort of wilfulness as Bull's. a practical corporation. recounts the history and nature of the place. Neptune is appealed to and replies by mouth of the latest passenger across the Channel on a windy night:--Take heart. He is a positive shape. the sea-anemone. But as there is no attack on his shores. he is adored in the form of post. and the best he can see is the mirror held up to him by his bards of the Press and his jester Frank Guffaw. ourself in short--the lower part of us. A fuller sketch of the figure of this remarkable emanation of us and object of our worship. is open to any suggestion: the oak-like is a reed.-Of Bull. who hearing whither you are bound. Once more the personification of the country's prosperity had returned to the humming state of roundness. If it is declared that argument will be inefficacious to move him. for instance. whose arms are about him to encourage the development of a wanton eccentricity. Your Frenchmen are revolutionising. after the manner of the most beautiful likeness of him conjurable to the mind--that flowering stomach. One thinks he has done much. son John! They will have poor stomachs for blows who intrude upon you. opposition to his image. the gritty morsel unabsorbed within us at an armistice with the gastric juices. Trade whipped him merrily. Men. There. before the world: our lord and tyrant. inaccessible to every argument. the bull a deer. he can create an enthusiasm when his roast-beef influence mounts up to peaceful skies and the domestic English world spins with him. there is no proof that they are invulnerable. then: our image.

an ornamental body. respectfulness in times of reverse. Bull's perusal of the Horatian carpe diem is acute as that of the cattle in fat meads. Brains. composing music of a novel order: both are marching.Germans ploughing in philosophy. lends ear to foreign airs. and we have won that jolly girl. and you are welcome to the marriagefeast. They point over to the foreigner. Often do we have him whirling his rotundity like a Mussulman dervish inflated by the spirit to agitate the shanks. my worthy friends. he is washing his hands of English performances. What can he show in the Arts? What in Arms? His bards--O faithless! but they are men--his bards accuse him of sheer cattle-contentedness in the mead. evolutionising. and some dare to say. brains are the generators of the conquering energies. can almost understand what poetry means. toasting. What has he done for the growth of his globe of brains?--the lesser. create a sensible present composed of both-the present of the good using of our powers. Peace is the Goddess we court for the hand of her daughter Plenty. he is down. Roundness admiring the growth of its globe may address majestic invitation to the leaner kine. our intellectual eminence. for us. they sneer at his trust in Neptune. patronises foreign actors. or political contrivances and schemes of Government. They question him to deafen him of our defences. and let it be of dining. good at the arts. and a legislative. it vanishes. the collapse of pursiness. without one bit of tracery on its black breast other than that which his apprehensions project. he walks like lusty Autumn carrying his garner to drum on. and we do not want war. As for a present hour. he is reduced to apprehend. In sad fact. our science. It can exhibit to the world that Peace is a most desirable mother-in-law. he has gained a conception of them. until pangs of a commercial crisis awaken him to perceive an infructuous past and an unsown future. has not struck him. and justly the directing globe. our material achievements. downright carcase-dulness. If it does not pay. it swims. he abandons his pedestal of universal critic. He is ready to knock knighthood on the heads of men of brains--even literary brains. he is roaring. of sterility of brain. He drops his head like a smitten ox to all great foreign names. learning how to kill. but in our rightful posture the upper. braced. for he has not yet imagined them a . thinner than the phantom banquets of recollection. it brings him fame. but avaunt new-fangled theories and howlings: old tunes. To make them peers. tried systems. prostrate he falls to the foreigner. self-confident foreigner. Ridiculous Germans! capricious Frenchmen! We want nothing new in musical composition and abstract speculation of an indecent mythology. moaning 'Shakespeare!' internally for a sustaining apostrophe. in splendour of verse=-our supreme accomplishment. by feeding on the past to sow the future. He is now for brains at all costs. Then with one big fellow. the member for England is often intoxicate. He well-nigh loves his poets. through whose directions we do. drowsihood. They shall be knights. doubt the scaly invulnerability of the God. and it is tempted to dream of capping the pinnacle of wisdom when it squats on a fundamental truth. for a sign of his diligent wisdom in seizing the day. browses on reports from camps of foreign armies. drinking. good at arms. He can read the page fronting him. thumbing classics. and eclipsing us in industriousness manual and mental. our poetry. mid-noddyism. the clean-stepping. he will vociferously confute the wiseacre bookworms who would have us believe there is no such thing as a present hour for man.

he likes it and he is proud of it. In the interim he does mischief. horn-driving. little for prospective security. they affirm. albeit of a righteous benevolence. And the Celtic brotherhood are not invariably fools in their sensitiveness. is a shame and a loathing. the genius of our comfortable sluggishness. excessive. his religious veneration of his habitual indulgences. trampling. but it is of dogged attitude in the face of men. succinctly they see you in his crescent outlines. They require petting. is to blame. by no means delighting in his representation of them. nor an attractively loveable. They will not. unfortunately not a prescient one. When such is felt to be the case among a sufficient number. You attach small importance to images and symbols. This is Mr. So the world is pleased to let it be obscured by the paunch of Bull. very parlous Bull. individuals in all classes. yet if they seem representative. Its behaviour is honourable under a discerning heaven.stable body. a juvenile. they are a sword of division between Celts and Saxons if they are abhorrent to one section. however. poets might proclaim its virtues. We have. and there is ever something pathetic in a toilful speechlessness. serious mischief. Think a little upon the ideas of unpatriotic Celts regarding him. that we are well rid of him for a while. ancestral ghost. lashing. days of storm imprudent to pray the advent of. he paid the Dannegelt for peace. and on other fields to which the world has given glory. not to mention a shattering of our timbers. they encircle and solidify the mass. he does worse than when. It is in his history that frenzies catch him. whose pranks are passed as though the vivid display of them had no bad effect on the nation. It is but in days of the rousing of the under-spirit of the country. his peculiar forms of nightmare. he is our family goat. though it is not a part of the head. doing the hourly duties for the sake of conscience. but his nakedness does not shrink from the mirror. they are important. when to be yoked to him is to suffer frightful shakings. tame bulk. upon which one must philosophise asinically to unveil the charm. with his unimpressionable front and his noisy benevolence of the pocket. The hat we wear. They swear to his perfect personification of your moods. they are averse. which their . And they are so restive because they are so patriotic. his fits of horned ferocity and lapses of hardheartedness. we hear that he is a piece of our English humour--we enjoy grotesques and never should agree to paint ourselves handsome: our subtle conceit insists on the reverse. little to win affection. Englishmen of feeling do not relish him. isolated groups. Bull. his bards blow him away as a vapour. obedient to go without the gift of expression. These execrate him as the full-grown Golden Calf of heathenish worship. And he is at times a mad Bull: a foaming. Doubtless the perpetual mirror. no sooner are the hours auspicious to fatness than Bull is back on us. You have heard them. They serve you on the field of Mars. Nevertheless. Symbolical decorations will stimulate the vacant-minded to act up to them. Salt is in it to keep our fleshly grass from putrefaction. our image before the world. to persuade them to flourish and bring him esteem. and they sicken numbers of us. Behold it as the donkey of a tipsy costermonger. The only voice it has is the Puritan bray. his imperviousness to whatsoever does not confront the sensual eye of him with a cake or a fist. For men with Irish and Cambrian blood in their veins the rubicund grotesque. your Saxon moods. spasms of alarm and foot on the weaker. You tell us they are you: accurately. the slavish mirror. Beneath these exhibitions the sober strong spirit of the country. labours on. stamps the character of our appearance and has a positive influence on our bearing.

perhaps when the old devotion to their priest has expired. but simply that he had studied her case. and the flourish was no vain show. was intimate with her resources. He did not so much write articles upon the health of his mistress as deliver Orphic sentences. and he was profoundly. indeed generally. in the flight from home. He meant hard steel to defend the pill he had prescribed for her constitutional state. no instrument of enjoyment. Verily he lives for the present. considering the audience he had gained. will be taught in sorrow that there is no life for him but of past and future: his delusion of the existence of a present hour for man will not outlast the season of his eating and drinking abundantly in security. was a sign of his willingness to let the shadow of any man adopting his course obscure him. For this. Love her as well. and of the simplicity of his attachment. her man-at-arms. and loved her hotly. They transmit the sentiment of the loathing of Bull. much bruited in the meadows during his periods of Arcadia. who blew in the trumpet of the country. and they are of a blood demanding a worshipworthy idea. even with the will. not less than eminently. they hug the hatred they packed up among their bundles of necessaries and relics. were a splendid fire-eyed motherly Britannia the figure sitting in the minds of men for our image --a palpitating figure. If a bitter experience showed that frequently. you had his cordial hand. as assuredly they would be incapable of doing. There were occasions when distinguished officials and Parliamentary speakers received the impetus of Rockney's approval and not hesitatingly he stepped behind them to bestow it. he was a man of forethought besides being a trenchant writer. then all his weapons to back you. as well as for material reasons. or an instantaneous flourish of the rapier. Furthermore there may be a future closed to him if he has thrown too extreme a task of repairing on that bare machine of his. He has to learn this fact. And they dislike Bull's bellow of disrespect for their religion. as wisely. penetrable to thought. in whatever fashion it may have been esteemed by the objects propelled. and were not bards of Bull to celebrate his firmness and vindicate his shiftings. They are unjust. and not a stolid concrete of our traditional old yeoman characteristic. Among the patriotic of stout English substance. He lives by reading rearward and seeing vanward. Nor did he pretend to special privileges in assuming his militant stand. alive to change. the wretched consolation afforded by a side glance at . The act. all for the present. and penitently will he gaze back on that misleading spark-the spectral planet it bids wink to his unreceptive stars--acknowledging him the bare machine for those two to drive. He had a manner of utterance quite in the tone of the familiar of the antechamber for proof of his knowing himself to be this person. and they instruct their children to keep it burning. Richard Rockney takes front rank. He has no actual life save in power of imagination. Public allusions to her were greeted with his emphatic assent in a measured pitch of the voice. The sight of a broken-down plough is mournful. He will perceive that it was no more than the spark shot out from the clash of those two meeting forces. but the one thing to do with it is to remove it from the field. the lover of Great Britain. they travelled scarce a tottering stagger farther than they were precipitated. but many of them speak with a sense of the foot on their necks. He was in one her physician. not to say inspiredly. her spiritual director. cannot forget the sound: it hangs on the afflicted drum of the ear when they are in another land. the great lesson of all men.inconsiderate spleen would have us take for unmixedly Saxon. and the monition for her soul's welfare. They dislike it. A journalist altogether given up to his craft.

Government was lashed for sleeping upon shaky ordinances. notwithstanding that the commencement of his journalistic career smelt of sources entirely opposed to the conclusions upon which it broadened. sometimes to command. Enough to profit them this way and yonder as one best can! You know the newspaper Press is a mighty engine. His calls for them resounded through the wilderness of the wooden. Writing of such a kind as Rockney's was new to a land where the political opinions of Joint Stock Companies had rattled Jovian thunders obedient to the nod of Bull. Any solid conviction of a capable head of a certainty impressed upon the world. He did away with the Biscay billow of the leading article--Bull's favourite prose--bardic construction of sentences that roll to the antithetical climax. if Rockney's directions for steering were unheeded. Premiers of parties might be Captains of the State for Rockney: Rockney was the premier's pilot. on our courts of Law. his relish of the bluff besides. and still he would be busy picking up needles and threads in the island. He was a tough opponent for his betters in education. would present us probably the most prodigious Gigantomachy in literary polemics. and thus his changes of view were not attributed to a fluctuating devotion. the main secret was his art of writing round English. shallows there. The fire of a mind was translucent in Press columns where our public had been accustomed to the rhetoric of primed scribes. he would have preferred automatic figures. It is not imaginable among comparative pygmies. reluctant indication of our not being the men we were. Woe to the country as well. the captain by the prophetic intimations of a holier alliance. It was the personal throb. colonists were gibbeted for the maltreating of natives: the ring and fervour of the notes on daily events told of Rockney's hand upon the national heart--with a faint. or woe to him. Others perchance might equal his love. Though not alone in working the change. a more illumined prescience. how a good fight was maintained in some sly ring between two of equal brawn: and manufacturers were warned of the consequences of their iniquities. An encounter between Swift and Johnson. were it imaginable. solitary in its depth. how crowds looked on at the beating of a woman. struck forcibly. He was a steam ram that drove straight at the bulky broadside of the enemy. on our streets and alleys. the vaster than the island England. urged to rebuke. Fervidness is the core of style. the shaping forethought. was Rockney's. He was a man of forethought. an enforced. instead of laborious Latinised periods: and the secret of the art was his meaning what he said. lapses of cowardice: how one man stood against a host for law or humanity. One secret of the belief in his love of his country was the readiness of Rockney's pen to support our nobler patriotic impulses. actually none the vigilant circumspection. And he was not devoid of style. Still he had no delight in shuffling a puppetry. dexterously. he was the foremost. yonder a foul course: this is the way for you! The refusal of the captain to go this . our colonies. they passed out of the range of criticism upon inconsistency. Deeds of valour were noted by him. But after all.a more enlightened passion. Reefs here. His eye was on our commerce. our army and navy. That clear knowledge of the right thing for the country was grasped but by fits by others. whose foamy top is offered and gulped as equivalent to an idea. was always alert for debate. the lover of Great Britain: he shouted his directions in the voice of the lover of his mistress. But Rockney's combat with his fellow-politicians of the Press partook of the Swiftian against the Johnsonian in form. none the wisdom of it.

Thus there was nothing to teach him. his very sincereness twists him awry. the scrawl of them on the dark of the undeveloped dazzles his brain. that he may feel in conscience worthy of a hearing and have perpetually a conscience in his charge! For on what is his forethought founded? Does he try the ring of it with our changed conditions? Bus a man of forethought who has to be one of our geysers ebullient by the hour must live days of fever. it really thinks better of him than he of it. and if he will run the country on to it. Simple unfitness can scarcely be conceived of a captain having our common senses and a warranted pilot at his elbow. Feeling the nerve of strength. His apprehensions distemper his blood. and the two qualities made his weakness and strength. whose trick is to turn corners of unanticipated sharpness. dear me! those jog-trot sermonisers. The ardour of his temperament suffused the directness of his intelligence to produce it. hard on the downright. He was sure of his love. Such a man has the stuff of the born journalist. O gobbling age! swallowing all. Furiously we disagree with you. Great love creates forethoughtfulness. Style cast her aegis over him. Ah. Ask him. He sees in time little else. what he thinks of quick breathing: he will answer that to be a shepherd on the downs is to be more a man. After a term of prolonged preachification he is compelled to lash that he may less despise the age. the Government not often. digesting nought. He has to do it for his own sake. we proclaim him guilty either of inebriety or of treason--the alternatives are named: one or the other has him. Had not Rockney been given to a high expression of opinion. but who gave ear to his prescience? Few: the echo of the country now and then. As to the gobbling age. us too you have swallowed. he was the oracle and martyr of superior vision: and as in affairs of business and the weighing of men he was of singularly cool sagacity. without-which incessant journalism is a gabble. thoroughly to trust to his voice when he delivered it in ardour--circumstance coming to be of daily recurrence. We are in you to lead you or work you pangs! Rockney could not be a mild sermoniser commenting on events. however. midway in his running. except Time. manage somehow to keep up the sale of their journals: advertisements do not flow and ebb with them as under the influence of a capricious moon. and leave the directly seeing and ardent to dash at walls. or reveal him. while his opponents were equally insensible to the weakness under the force of his blows. you are in . Rather no journalism at all for him! He thought the office of the ordinary daily preacher cowlike. how snappishly suspect himself. open to the humours of the distinct discrimination of things in their roughness. It was a drunken captain. he would often have been exposed bare to hostile shafts. How rigidly should the man of forethought govern himself.way caused Rockney sincerely to discredit the sobriety of his intellect. mere commentators upon events. question himself! how constantly wrestle with himself! And if he be a writer ebullient by the hour. O insensate mechanism! and we will let you know you have a stomach. Or how if a traitorous? We point out the danger to him. the weakness was masked to him. what a public! Serve it honourably. the knowledge of the firmly-based materialism of his nature caused him. prognosticate. dictate. plain in fervour. And. He wore an armour in which he could walk. and journalism is the food of the age. His gadfly stung him to warn. run and leap-a natural style.

Rockney's historic England. saw the country incarnate in Bull. and when prostration ensued no English tongue was loftier in preaching dignity and the means of recovery. Captain Con O'Donnell's were popgun-pellets. might soften him. and the hatred of a Celt.peril of collapsing: show it nothing but the likeness of its dull animal face. Celt and Saxon are much inmixed with us. but it may yet cross over to the right one. now gasping puffs of panic. Some spirited brilliancy. some persistent generosity (other than the guzzle's flash of it). The country has gone the wrong road. that none of them were bardic of Bull. Con O'Donnell for a diversion. and annual should be the uplifting of his voice instead of diurnal. far from the hustled editor's desk. issue of glorious grandsires. respecters of life. the alternately braggart and poltroon. sweating in labour that he may gorge the fruits. and the living heroic England to slip from that dull hide in a time of trial. constituted their essential merit. graceless to a scoffer. he has Bull on the eye. worshippers of a discerned God of Laws. His articles of foregone years w ere an extraordinary record of events or conditions foreseen: seductive in the review of them by a writer who has to be still foreseeing: nevertheless. Compared with the bolts discharged at Bull by Rockney's artillery. a nation under a monstrous defacement. iron men to meet disaster. something sweeter than the slow animal well-meaningness his placable brethren point . when it perceives that we were prophetic. whether of war or social suffering. though painful. Only Rockney fired to chasten. he saw the well-minded valorous people. to appease an animus. he could not do homage to the belying simulacrum of the present. and that our sound man would have acted wisely in heeding some of the prescriptions. stupefied by the contemplation of the mask: his vision was of the great of old. His defects as well as his advantages as a politician preserved to him this virtue. The revolutionist in English journalism was too devoutly patriotic to belabour even a pantomime mask that was taken as representative of us for the disdainful fun of it. and just men too. but the prevalence of Saxon blood is evinced by the public disregard of any Celtic conception of the honourable and the loveable. the possibly great in the graver strife ahead. despisers of death. quick as he is to catch at images. Behind the plethoric lamp. consolatory to think of. And this is the creature to whose tail he is tied! Hereditary hatred is approved by critical disgust. through his vivid fancy and his disesteem. though ideas remain closely consecutive and the utterance resonant. Between gouty blood and luminous brain the strife had set in which does not conduce to unwavering sobriety of mind. if only to spare his blood the distemper? A fund of gout was in Rockney's. has a figure of hugeous animalism supplied to his malign contempt. the real English whereas an alienated Celtic satirist. now blown with the fleshpots. In the season of prosperity Rockney lashed the old fellow with the crisis he was breeding for us. at most a roguish screw-kneed clown to be whipped out of him. These reflections within us! Might not one almost say that the retreat for the prophet is the wilderness. Insisting on a future. you are steadily inflated. nor a people hardening to Spartan lineaments in the fire. Our monumental image of the Misuse of Peace he pointed out unceasingly as at a despot constructed by freemen out of the meanest in their natures to mock the gift of liberty. he cannot see. and he had begun to churn it. thinking to do justice. Never had he been an adulator of Bull. so that the Celt anxious to admire is rebutted.

allured his imagination to the idea of England. do not report him at all. and banish Bull. especially none to his rages. And you have wondered at the absence of love for you under so astounding a presentation. for that man can be admired. lend no ear either to his panics or his testiness. and he does bloom beautifully in the rays he courts. You may be so self-satisfied as to dispense with an ideal: your yokefellow is not. harps to wild Wales. it is his particular form of strength to require one for his proper blooming. Believe in a future and banish that gross obscuration of you. should be sheepish in hope for love. they and their children. dull. yet to be loved you must be a little perceptibly admirable. a member of strange sects--he so inveterate in faithfulness to the hoar and the legendary!--Anything rather than Anglican. he prefers to rub the rawness of his wound and be ready to pitch his cap in the air for it.his attention to. Ah then. The Cymry bear you no hatred. and where men take soldier-service they are usually fixed. privacy. out of sheer bloodloathing of a connection that offers him nothing to admire. and he will soon subside into his domestic. of . Both below and above the blind mass of discontent in his island. the repressed sentiment of admiration-or passion of fealty and thirst to give himself to a visible brighter--is an element of the division: meditative young Patrick O'Donnell early in his reflections had noted that:--and it is partly a result of our daily habit of tossing the straw to the monetary world and doting on ourselves in the mirror. The brain should lead. Decline to let that old-yeomanturned alderman stand any longer for the national man. his Cambrian highlands. their affection likewise is undefined. varied by pothouse. prohibit him your Christmas. they may put an extinguisher on the Irish Vesuvian. and becomes contentedly a transatlantic citizen. whom you call the Welshman. politic friend. Even in a Bull. Banish him your revels and your debatings. you will know that for half a century you have appeared bottom upward to mankind. he sets the teeth of the Celt gnashing at him. if there be a brain. and deride for his delight in songful gatherings. will like an able and gallant enemy better than a grudgingly just. when his notions are in a similar state of inversion. like Rockney. in combating him. But there is reason to think that America has caught the imagination of the Cambrian Celt: names of Welshmen are numerous in the small army of the States of the Union. The material points in a division are always the stronger. Speaking to the brain of the country. not very deeply injured within a century. one is sure of the power of a resolute sign from it to dismiss the brainless. and the Celt. even though. He too. beneficent as he can dream of being. until our habitual doings are viewed in a bemused complacency by us. but the sentimental are here very strong. It is not seen. and the scumsurface of the country is flashed about as its vital being. seek to be loved. You have not yet. Here is one. goes a step nearer to the bourne of pacification than Press and Parliament reflecting the popular opinion that law must be passed to temper Ireland's eruptiveness. and writing on his daily topics with strenuous original vigour. he gladly ships himself across the waters traversed by his Prince Madoc of tradition. Once free of him. nothing to hug to his heart. Despite the passion for his mountains and the boon of your raising of the interdict (within a hundred years) upon his pastors to harangue him in his native tongue. and though he can understand the perils of a severance. Pass the laws. lumbersome. though he is orderly and serviceable. and not to England. A man of forethought using the Press to spur Parliament to fitly represent the people.

can hardly be excluded from a theme dramatising Celtic views. To pronounce it his childishness provokes the retort upon your presented shape. and offend not the Pierides. without the brother eye for the need of virtuousness to make good use of them and inspire the poet. He has. He has perceived the virtues of Peace. having the harpoon of the inevitable slayer of the merely fleshly in his oils. it has been said. as carrion to batten on. May plumpness be their portion. Were he in the fire. you were conducted to a like point of view? Self-worship. And your poets are in a like predicament. telling them he doubts them true poets while they abstain from singing him to the world-him. This interlude. He and his thousand Macheaths are dancing the country the giddy pace. They are in the Celtic dilemma of standing at variance with Bull. What if. given to be songful and loving. if the object fills your optics. but worship does not necessarily cease with the extinction of this of the voraciously carnal. the shots are aimed which seem so malignant. been seen to thump the midriff and rally them for their shyness of it. Gaelic Scots wind the same note of repulsion. His own enrolled unrhythmical bardic troops (humorous mercenaries when Celts) do his trumpeting best. to which the idea of country must shine resplendently if we would have it running at full tide through the arteries. or the explosive powders are being secretly laid. To humour him. the wretch dreads. as in fact he can now understand his Shakespeare to have done. You are requested simply to recollect that there is another beside you who sees the object obliquely. or rather inter-drone. While he reigns. are condemned to expend their genius upon the abstract. At his pleasures he is anti-hymnic. He cannot admire it. An ideal of country. and there will. the picturesque. and then you will not be surprised by his irreverence. are unable to be epical or lyrical of him. They swell to a resemblance of their patron if they stoop to woo his purse. and treating of a blood. as it is better for flames to be blown out than not to ascend. the quaint. and the things refreshing the centre of him. otherwise it will wreak circular mischief instead of illumining. thinks this poor starveling. not against the country. and be his piper for his gifts. be many a crater of scoria in the island. Better worship that than nothing. like airy Macheath at Society. repulsive to write. on hearing how that poets bring praise to nations. Be certain that the material grounds of division are not all. of Great Britain. not the country. Him the gay manipulators propitiate who look at him through Literature and the Press. pleasantly pinching of Bull is one of those offices which the simple starveling piper regards with afresh access of appetite for the well-picked bone of his virtue. That ghastly apparition of the fleshly present is revealed to him as a dead whale. and they never hanged for it! But the flattering. the thing we want and can have. I protest. is preferable to no trimming of the faculty. the backbone of him. is to descend to a carnival deep underneath. in the end. to wave as a standard over their fraternal marching.ardent temperament. Let Bull boo his drumliest at such talk: it is. He is the obstruction. Rome burns. tickling. always shrinkingly apart from him. Your poets are the most persuasive of springs to a lively general patriotism. Ineffectual is that encouragement. melting to the iron man. Nature they read spiritually or sensually. and across the pulpit-cushions. before . repellent to song. he leaves you and forgets you. and against him. is conceivable that will be to the taste of Celt and Saxon in common. it would be different. they return him his hearty antipathy. Preserve your worship.

breaking to flights of blue. can afford to hear. CHAPTER XVII CROSSING THE RUBICON Rough weather on the Irish sea discharged a pallid file of passengers from the boat at Holyhead just as the morning sun struck wave and mountain with one of the sudden sparkling changes which our South-welters have in their folds to tell us after a tumultuous night that we have only been worried by Puck. what they think and say of one another. especially when she shed showers by flapping a batlike wing of the cloak. not with Bull's notion of the realism of the butcher's shop and the pendent legs of mutton and blocks of beef painted raw and glaring in their streaks. whizzing spray across the starboard beam. hating both because he harnesses himself in turn bestially to each. whose example teaches you to shun the plaguey tale that carries fright: and so you find him sour at business and sick of his relaxings. illumination. but we are in a land of shifting weathers. and then did the tricksy Southwest administer grisly slaps to right and left. often without knowing that they are divided. the rollers shattered up the cliff to have run to extinction to scale him. Freshness. then salt air. growling at the smallest admixture of them. The scene of frayed waters all rosy-golden. Now the rain is over. were a bath for every sense of life. The theme is chosen and must be treated as a piper involved in his virtue conceives it: that is. was resplendent for those of our recent sea-farers who could lift an eye to enjoy it. your carriage is at the door. when. You could believe the breast of the mountain to be heaving. We have worn through a cloud with cloudy discourses. The reasons for the division of Celt and Saxon.' not every chapter can be sunshine. brave England. and--who knows?-become a brighter fellow. with the tinted sand. he would be happier. the country smiles and the wet highway waves a beckoning hand. but with the realism of the active brain and heart conjoined. realistically. Why not in a tale? It is he. the billows to be kissing fingers to him. 'coelum crebris imbribus ac nebulis foedum. if he would but chirp a little over his work. An hour back the vessel was labouring through rueful chasms under darkness. because she would keep her place on deck from beginning to end of the voyage. and had a slight shudder to find herself trickling within. Her faith in the capacity of Irish frieze to turn a deluge of the deeps driven by an Atlantic gale was shaken by the time she sighted harbour. vivid distances. and the wherefore of our abusing of ourselves. and allow his pleasures to inspire a dose of thoughtfulness. He seemed in his clear-edged mass King of this brave new boundless world built in a minute out of the wreck of the old. and golden-banded heathery height. one to be rescued from the pole-axe. .he stretches his inanimate length. his parasites upon him. and drenching the locks of a young lady who sat cloaked and hooded in frieze to teach her wilfulness a lesson. your all for animal pleasure in the holiday he devours and cannot enjoy. our England of the ancient fortitude and the future incarnation.

and down at the pools in tarpaulin at his feet. 'They say he looks on Ireland. my dear.' 'You want to have a last gaze over to Erin?' 'No. 'Purgatory past is good for contemplation. I hadn't the courage. it's to walk and feel the breeze. and there's the comfort! You did well to be out of that herring-barrel. Surely 'tis a glorious morning?' Mr. that's the most I can say. or I'd have counted the man for some one else.' a gentleman beside her said after a delicate pause to let her impulsive naturalism of utterance fly by unwounded. He was beginning to fancy that he felt the warmth of spring sunshine on his back.' Her companion looked up at the lighted sky. though. 'But there 's no harm in salt. Kathleen?' He said it rather twinkling. Colesworth. look at it! And it's my first view of England. . Mr. saying: 'Thank ye. 'You would not be advised. Oh! the beautiful . He flung up his head and sniffed the air. But you should have gone down to the cabin with Father Boyle and you would have been sure of not catching cold. for despite a manful smile his complexion was telltale. so like as to give Miss Kathleen an idea of . uncertain of his legs. thank ye. and his name is Caer Gybi. Father Boyle came climbing up the ladder. He repressed a disposition to shudder. and was very like a horse fretful for the canter. Well. I haven't thrown up my soul. and good morning. compassionate in archness. Colesworth. I fear. Mr. and she retorted: 'What sort of a night has it been below. But I do. I 've read in books.' 'Won't you require a little rest?' 'Sure and I've had it sitting here all night!' said she. . 'Tis past. But. he rolled and snatched and tottered on his way to them. then. and it was one of our Saints gave him the name. I thought myself nigh on it once or twice. he said: 'I should like to be on the top of that hill now. and with the anticipated ecstasy of soon jumping out of wet clothes into dry.'Dear! and I'm wet to the skin. I love him. 'And aren't you the same and worse? And not liking it either. I'll be there before noon.' she confided the fact to herself vocally. He laughed: the reason for the variation of exercise was conclusive. and accepted the gentleman's help of an arm. And my poor child! what sort of a night has it been above. or I would have burst from it to take a ducking with felicity. Sir!' she replied. And an amazing kind steward it was. Colesworth responded heartily in praise of the morning. Father Boyle?' Her twinkle was livelier than his.' The young lady's eyes flew to the top. I'll say it's a beautiful country.

but she forbore. her eyes.' 'They did appear. 'He must have had a fifty-lynx power of sight for that. But who describes the spirit? No one at the gates of the field of youth.' 'To submission to the laws.' 'No. habit! we've got accustomed to the perspective and speak accordingly.the comparison. my dear. the same in colour and quickness. O'Donnell's that evening. was just such a south-western sky as April drove above her.' 'I really thought. 'The captain'll have a quieter passage across. her hair. you have a noble minority at work. as the boat pitched finally outside the harbour fence. to more than that. and I take you for one of the noblest. that you were going to hold out a hand and lead your flock to the right sort of fellowship with us. the blue.' 'You talk like a song. as not objecting to stand next to alone. and the dark. Colesworth's brows had a little darkened over the Rev. though. Gentleman's last remark. with the threaded locks about forehead and cheeks. the rosy red of her lips. It's not all cloud when the high wind blows. out of which the picture springs. Kathleen. glory to the breakwater!' exclaimed Father Boyle.' 'Sir. 'I saw them come out and go in. There's a breach visible.' . and wonderfully bright. Colesworth. When Time goes reaping he will gather us a sheaf. He took two or three impatient steps up and down with his head bent. 'Pardon me.' she said. and much of her spirit was the same. You spoke with friendly warmth.' 'I thought you agreed with me that good efforts are being made on our side to mend the breach. enough to stand for a resemblance. She could have rallied him. she drank the scene. I hoped we had come to a better understanding. her laughing eyes showed the readiness. judging from our conversation at Mrs. 'Is it quite fair to the country and to Miss O'Donnell to impress on her before she knows us that England is the enemy?' 'Habit. from watching the stars all night. Mr. sir. no doubt.' 'Couldn't I rattle a throat if I were at home.' 'If he's not in bed. Mr.' he said. Father!' 'Ah! we're in the enemy's country now. Mr.' Miss Kathleen said she would go below to get the handbags from the stewardess. Colesworth. You may spy him on the pier. 'There's our last lurch. where a soft calm swell received them with the greeting of civilised sea-nymphs. 'tis my duty to do it as pastor and citizen.' said Miss Kathleen. Her face. We'll be meeting him on the landing.

or Kathleen would have had an Irish kiss to greet her landing in England. and then Mr. If so. Colesworth. and stretching away like a corpulent frog in the act of swimming on the wind. The maids of his Church do not espouse her foes. and by her vast ability got the entire management. 'We 'll hope your writings may do service to mend the breach. news of the family in Ireland and England was exchanged. and he.' Mr. The gentleman had to descend. Colesworth. Proceed and trip along. would the sentiment of national disunion have struck his mind: it was difficult to him in the description.' said the priest. and more 's the pity. and Father Boyle wanted to go to bed for refreshment. in short: for he continued to look argumentative after all had been said. of Miss Mattock's benevolent institution. at mention of his name. it's plain to the naked eye as a pair of particularly fat laundry drawers hung out to dry and ballooned in extension--if mayhap you've ever seen the sight of them in that state:-just held together by a narrow neck of thread or button. Temporarily we are in cordial intercourse. with a boy running after it. the captain himself very soon informed them. let alone Kathleen. I like Irishmen so well that if the whole land were in revolt I should never call it the enemy's country. while Father Boyle's opinion of him likewise referred him to an elemental substance. of slow movement-earth. Colesworth and the captain bowed to an introduction. or to keep it if he did. As it is. if he had. Or perhaps he threw a coveting eye on sweet Miss Kathleen and had his own idea of mending a stitch of the breach in a quite domestic way. Colesworth had not ever seen such a pair of laundry drawers inflated to symbolise the breach between Ireland and England. though doubly laden. Mr. the Holy Father would have a word to say. But the cousinly salute was little delayed. She.' 'Excellently spoken. immediately cried out that Mr. nor probably. and was conducting it with such success that it was fast becoming a grief to the generous heart of the foundress of the same to . For the men it is another matter: that is as the case may be. Colesworth might perchance be a relative of the highly intelligent admirable lady who had undertaken the secretaryship. and subsequently an amiable dissension arose on the part of the young lady and Mr. and Kathleen was an airy gossamer. as you know. I wish I could have spent more time in Ireland. He considered his Rev. As my friend Captain Con O'Donnell says. if you remember the whisky and the fumes of our tobacco at one o'clock!' 'I shall recollect the evening with the utmost pleasure. Mr. All very transparent to pastoral observation. Colesworth. Miss Kathleen returned to deck carrying her bags. but why should they not be left to their chirruping youthfulness? The captain was not in view. friend to be something of a slippery fish. yielded one of her bags. you young ones! At the hotel they heard that Captain Con O'Donnell was a snug sleeper upstairs. however. sir. not by any means likely to catch it. This. You were kind enough to instruct me in a good many things I shall be sure to profit by. He had fancied they would not cross the Channel on so rattlesome a night. For there is one. was happy.'The atmosphere was genial. and the captain. and it's wide and deep. His comparison touches the sentiment of disunion. there's one. had not been the kernel of the truth.

It's a secret with a time-fuse warranted to explode safe enough when the minutes are up. but on the road to a fortune. 'It's hard to discover a man in these days who hasn't written books.' said the priest. he does. and that fall from his horse finished the business. he had also the pleasure of an acquaintance with Miss Mattock. Colesworth went upstairs to his room not unflattered. there 's no mightier compliment to one's wife. and make a powerful row when it does. But he'll get up. She'll know it when it's history. to a certain hereditary share of brains greatly to be envied: brother of Miss Colesworth. He was vehemently congratulated on the relationship. He called on us coming and called on us going and we came over together. and he yawned frightfully. It is all right over there. I think it was in Germany. my dear friend. They're nursing him. ?' said Con. He was invalided at the right moment for him. Mr. a title of distinction in itself! He was congratulated not less cordially for his being so fortunate as to know Miss Mattock. and that bludgeon sun of India knocked him down. Oh! Philip! Ease your heart about Philip. But let that be: I serve duty too. Captain Con retained the hand of Father Boyle and squeezed it during his eulogies. Adister?' 'Not a syllable. I have a wife. Ay. Not a word to our friend up yonder. inasmuch as it was already an article in the decrees of fashion among the nobility and gentry of both sexes in the metropolis to have their linen and laces washed at the Mattock laundry. and there he lies. yes! we 're sorry to see him flat all his length. he's a gallant soldier. The flattery enveloped him in the pleasant sense of a somehow now established companionship for the day with a pleasant person from whom he did not wish to separate. Kathleen answered: 'He made friends with our Patrick on the Continent. .' remarked the captain. 'But tell me: our Philip?' 'Books!' Con exclaimed. He studies everything. That's to come. he has written books. 'You made the gentleman's acquaintance. 'But you haven't confided anything of it to Mrs. I am. always willing to let me go. which bore witness. and now the die is cast and this time I 'm off to it. she . I gave him his chance of the last vacant seat up to the last hour. Poor Philip--yes. I suppose?' 'A walk over! a pure ceremonial. Colesworth said he was the brother of the lady in question. I count on her kindness. and he might have accepted the seat and spared me my probation: he's not married. She's fond of history. alive to his duty. Father Boyle. and she 's a good woman. . and Master Philip divides me against my domestic self.' said Miss Kathleen. we love him. round. He means to be one of their writers on the newspapers. no. at the same time dispensing nods and winks and sunny sparkles upon Kathleen. There's my contest! I had urgent business in Ireland. bearing a letter from Patrick. one of a million. the captain armed. no fear.find it not only self-paying. and came to us to study the old country. Mr. my dear . 'You're for a nap to recompose you.

He had only to say the word: I could have done all the business for him.' said the captain. 'And 'tis a curious fact that every man in that condition seems enviable to men on their legs.' Kathleen cried. and on his way to complete restoration.' 'Then he's coming all right. He proposed bed and a sedative therein.' . and a good one.' Captain Con assented. 'I'm young as that too. 'She's got an appetite.' The attempt at a formation of the word produced a cavernous yawn a volume of the distressful deep to the beholder. won't be possible in the presence of that gaping oyster of a fellow.' 'Oh! but he's coming round. She's a good woman. Kathleen: and one of them as big an heiress as any in England. There he is. and looks like a strapped bit of steel after the night's tumbling. So he led his tired old friend to the bedroom. So I tell him. seeing her trip aloft. because of a qualm. by the way. and that it should be hot.hates fiction. 'Her heart's been heavy. but the picture of the finish of the leap across is a taking one. 'He 's a soldier.' said Con. but she's a savage patriot. declaring that his experience overnight could pronounce it good. These chops are done as if Nature had mellowed their juiciness. and there she has it. a dear good soul. suggested the answers. flurried a withdrawal of them. asked dozens of questions. you'll find. and so I'm proud to tell her I offer her none. 'Not for . you'll see him. And similarly with death. I'll soon be dressed for breakfast. Irish or no. I'll order breakfast for four in a quiet corner where we can converse--which. Oh! we can whip up the business to a nice little bowl of froth-flummery. but he 's nothing more. or not far off it. which lent itself like an artist's lay-model to the operation. . . She likes a trifling surprise too. delivered a moan on her behalf.' he tried to add 'four. Stay. with Patrick wandering and Philip on his back. departed on his mission of the sedative.' Father Boyle interposed his hand. and as for patriotic inflammation. But it's when the Parliamentary voting is on comes the connubial pull. 'Full fathom five the Father lies. in the ocean of sleep. who looks as if he were waiting the return of the tide. Why Bayard in the nineteenth century's a Bedlamite. At the breakfast for three he was able to tell Kathleen that the worthy Father was warm. talked of his Rubicon. we'd rather not. and no contest to follow by my fireside. doesn't know the sensation. praised his wife. and Philip might have saved his kinsman if he had liked. by this time. He's on his couch--Mars convalescent: a more dreadful attraction to the ladies than in his crimson plumes! If the fellow doesn't let slip his opportunity! with his points of honour and being an Irish Bayard.' Away she went. and you'll go and stroke down mother with that. Philip's no fool. and after assisting to half disrobe the scarce animate figure. is he?' said Kathleen. 'Of course.

A cloud too much. The lady he was for seeing.' 'And that's the bit of luck we depend on. I'm under an obligation to your cavalier. 'And permit me to add. 'To be sure. do you know. Mr. sir? You've made acquaintance with my cousin. Colesworth. Where was it?' 'We met in Trieste. though not perhaps on that account. and it's drowned! Had he seen.' 'Not disturbed! no! with a rotten potato inside it paralysing digestion!' exclaimed Con. 'The country is not disturbed. 'That is.' Kathleen cried: 'Ye 're talking of the lady who was Miss Adister--I can guess--Ah!' She humped her shoulders and sent a shudder up her neck. the harvest was only middling good last year. Colesworth.' 'He could hardly do less. was just then embarking on an adventure of a romantic character. Colesworth had sufficient quickness to perceive that the two questions could be answered as one. 'Now Patrick had been having a peep at Vienna. that Patrick's choice of a friend is mine on trust. if you'd like to have an idea of a young Catherine or a Semiramisminus an army and a country. I rejoice to hear. he was fresh from Vienna when I met him. And how did you find Ireland. 'You deserve them. particularly well suited to her nature. And there's pretty well nothing and nobody she . He was about to start by one of the Austrian boats for the East. 'But she's a grand creature. through his hearing or seeing my name and suspecting I had a sister. 'Did she come through it safely?' 'Without any personal disfigurement: and is in England now.' said Mr. having the chance. As to Ireland. meditating fresh adventures. and saying: 'He was disappointed.' 'Yes. anybody in Vienna?--you were not long together at Trieste?' Mr.' revealed that he and Patrick had been long enough together to come to terms of intimacy. and she suffered a disappointment also. Colesworth would keep me company. under her father's roof. Colesworth.' 'So the doctor thinks his patient is doing favourably! And you cottoned to Patrick? And I don't wonder. Patrick O'Donnell. he gave you a letter of introduction to his family!' said Con. if ever girl in this world!' 'I sat on deck all night. There's nothing she's not capable of aiming at. young Mr. who was no longer in the resemblance of a gaping oyster on the borders of the ebb.' Kathleen said.'They are so nice.' said Con. and you ought to know her.' said Mr. Colesworth. But that notwithstanding. and Mr. Mr.' 'I heard of it in England last year. and the end of it was a trifle sanguinary. hadn't he?' 'He had.

'When I've done. And if it is my reproach that I left it to the perils of drowning. relating what I hadn't quite heard. 'Tis the necessity of the profession. and capitulating what I didn't think at all. 'Journalism is a maw. I--know you're burning to. shows you to be eminently a stranger to the official duties.' 'The profession will not impose that necessity upon me. 'Outside the wheels of the machine. sir. and this morning I'll have a protector. and if I were. I've walked the better half of Donegal alone. Captain Con.' 'We are qualifying for the literary craft. And let me tell you that the Pen demands it of us. Colesworth mayhap has to write a bit in the morning.' said Kathleen. I'm glad to see that Mr. 'It's for a walk in the wind up Caer Gybi. in spite of the cry of my conscience--a poor infant below the waters. She has great notions of the power of the British Press and the British purse--each in turn as a key to the other.wouldn't make use of. disapproved of himself. The Press is the voice of the mass.' said Mr. The first of the requisites is a stout stomach--before a furnished head! I'd not pass a man to be anything of a writer who couldn't step ashore from a tempest and consume his Titan breakfast. my dear.' Captain Con eyed the protector. casting up ejaculatory bubbles of protestation. for you can't leave it gaping. it's my pride that I continued to transmit air enough to carry on the struggle. and the journalist has to cram it. and like anything else which perpetually distends for matter. Now for an egg. Not every journalist can say as much.' the latter said. and along the coast I mean to go.' Kathleen replied. Colesworth.' 'I think I'll eat an egg. I've been one in the whirr of them.' remarked the young practitioner. and our private opinion . the event would be wanting. we have recourse to the creative arts. It augurs magnificently for a future career. 'I am neither a correspondent nor a reporter. thought of Kathleen as a daughter of Erin--a privileged and inviolate order of woman in the minds of his countrymen--and wriggling internally over a remainder scruple said: 'Mr. Colesworth too can take a sight at the Sea-God after a night of him. that I can walk a day long and take care of my steps. While you're discussing matters with Father Boyle. we indulge our hallucination of immunity. it must be filled.' 'That remark. approved of him. She saw his dilemma in his doubtful look.' observed the captain. 'This morning?' the captain asked her. and calls for fuel. Miss O'Donnell. Sure it's yourself knows as well as anybody.' 'I'm unattached at present. so when nature and circumstance won't combine to produce the stuff. 'Bless the honey heart of the girl! Life's in you. Kathleen. sir.

because of the wonderful likeness of the . she has brains. He said to her before she started: 'Don't forget he may be a clever fellow with that pen of his. you know. There's Rockney.' 'I'll not forget. denied the conclusiveness of French generalisations. 'That's the man in a neat bit of drawing. That 'll be consoling. He spoke as one indicating a thread to suggest a cable. and points him. I shall find her in London. and has been raging astray politically ever since. and tell me by and by. that primes him. that he was proof against feminine blandishments in the direction of his writings. Colesworth. Colesworth: a memorable walk in the recollections of the scribe. you'll find. For the good of his party. her noticing you is a pretty compliment to your pen. Colesworth. with a turn for adventure and enterprise: it's rare fun: he 's nibbling. He had a sweet Irish lady for his wife. and you 'll make a decent stand against Lucifer. which ascribed to women universal occult dominion. The captain's eyes twinkled on him. If it isn't a woman. and lost her last year. Captain Con permitted her to take the walk up Caer Gybi alone with Mr. and hold your own against her. when I hope to renew the acquaintance. he said. Resist her. I suppose it's hardly the poor creature's fault.' said Mr. She has beauty. He's a grand piece of ordnance. Colesworth.' said Mr. None the less. and useful to our party. and traced all great affairs to small intrigues. She's a niece of my wife's and I'll introduce you.' 'Then you do know Rockney!' shouted Captain Con. Mr.' said she. And now he 's nibbling at a bait--it 's fun: the lady I mentioned. Do you know Rockney? He's the biggest single gun they've got. if need were. he'll be hooked. Poor fellow! I pity him. and he's mad for this country.' Mr. 'Infinitely better: and I like your "guile.' 'Rockney. Upon this. we have to fight him. but ask him about the public. You must make her acquaintance. discharges him.is detected as a discord by the mighty beast. and what's more. 'has the tone of a man disappointed of the dictatorship. thinking how readily he would back smart Miss Kathleen to do the trick. Colesworth fancied. Colesworth. or at our lodgings at a Surrey farm we've taken to nurse my cousin Captain Philip O'Donnell invalided from Indian awful climate!-on my return. But wait for him too.' 'It's better not to think of him quite as a beast. and won't be endured by him. I'm not Irish born. if you can. with all respect for French intelligence. you'll hear the menagerie-keeper's opinion of the brute that mauled his loins. then." sir: But wait and tell me what you think of him after tossing him his meat for a certain number of years. Mr. And supposing she rolls you up and pitches you over. The captain applauded the fancy as a pleasing delusion of the young sprigs of Journalism. ay.

And he seemed to estimate his professional duties apart from an aim at the laurels. not a member of our broader world. to help to save a good sword for the country. his attempt at it confused his ideas of his expressive powers. Theoretically she despised the soldier's work as much as she shrank abhorrently from bloodshed. It was one of our giant days to his emotions. too. It smites a deeper nerve. The cares of nursing were Jane's almost undividedly. She regarded him and his trappings as an ensign of our old barbarism. the cloud that frowned. Jane Mattock assisting Mrs. Without dismissing any of these views she found them put aside for the reception of others of an opposite character. like a person shut off on a sudden from her former theories and feelings. This was the day of Captain Con's crossing the Rubicon between the secret of his happiness and a Parliamentary career. here was one whom it would be grievous to lose. where there is no imaginary subjection to the charms of military glory. she was accustomed to consider an inferior intelligence: a sort of schoolboy when young. and could peruse platitudes upon that theme with enthusiasm. hopeful. he had a fondness for them: they stamped a radiant day in his mind. desirous of avoiding a challenge to show every feature. Adister O'Donnell to restore Captain Philip was very singularly affected. She inclined to think more highly of him for having courted exposure on a miserable frontier war where but a poor sheaf of glory could be gathered. except for the aid she had from her friend Grace Barrow and from Miss Colesworth. the mountain ranges holding hands about an immensity of space. The soldier personally. and particularly memorable to him through the circumstance that it insisted on a record in verse. and this. surcharged with zeal. while scourging the lines with criticism. and schoolmaster when mature a visibly limited creature. but stretched upon the debateable couch of sickness we are not so touching as the coloured coat: it has the distinction belonging to colour. doubtful. the cloud that glowed. in minds to which the game of war is lurid as the plumes of the arch-slayer. and in her soul she would have ascribed it to her cares of nursing that she had become thoughtful. A conception of the possibility of a man's being both a soldier and morally a hero edged its way into her understanding. If in a world still barbarous we must have soldiers. or more than one. CHAPTER XVIII CAPTAIN CON'S LETTER Women may be able to tell you why the nursing of a military invalid awakens tenderer anxieties in their bosoms than those called forth by the drab civilian. Oddly too. and there was a moving story of how he had fallen. . He had fallen for the country. Mrs. and he was unused to the fetters of metre: and although the verse was never seen by man. the green of the earth greening out from under wings of shadow. even prayerful.young lady to the breezy weather and the sparkles over the deep. If we are under sentence of death we are all of us pathetic of course. beyond the resources of rhetoric to have done it equally. It stood edgeways within.

A suggestion of possible danger might prove more dangerous than silence. After a recent observation of him. Lackstraw had been apprehensive about her fancy for Patrick. refused to be raised before the mind. Thus we perceive that wits actively awake inside the ring-fence of prepossessions they have erected may lull themselves with their wakefulness. on an evening stroll from Lappett's to Woodside. she was often summoned to London by her intuition of John's wish to have her presiding at table for the entertainment of his numerous guests. . Pat. no hint of wild winds and heavy seas. her walk to her patient at Lappett's farm and homeward was an aethereal rapture for a heart rocking easy in fulness. a soldier and Papist could never be thought perilous to a young woman scorning the sons of Mars and slaves of sacerdotalism. . humaneness. she pronounced him interesting. Therefore if Captain Philip was unlike him. Jane acknowledged it. steel her heart against serpent speeches.Adister O'Donnell was a nurse in name only. clapped a brogue on her tongue to discourse of Patrick and apostrophise him: 'Oh! Pat. the suspicion of danger dispersed. she confessed that she supervised the art of nursing better than she practised it. whom she was bound to serve in return for Patrick's many services to her. not even the familiar insinuation from the vigilant monitress. Besides. a beggar in rags. her aunt. Lackstraw. did and said nothing to alarm her or strike the smallest light. Who would have thought!--is the cry when the strongest bulwark of the fence is broken through. would not have been so tolerated. but hard. 'She'll be seen by Philip like as if she were a nightmare apparition of his undertaker's wraith. and alert there. had forborne to utter the usual warnings which were to preserve Miss Mattock for her future Earl or Duke and the reason why she forbore was a double one. Mrs. The picture of Jane bestowing her hand on a Roman Catholic in military uniform. to bid her be on her guard. Jane talked of poor Captain Philip as Patrick O'Donnell's brother. perfectly accounted for Jane's trips to Lappett's farm. Mrs. 'Barring the dress. There was nothing to trouble it. and Jane. both eulogistic of the absent brother. 'He has an interesting head . Lackstraw's model farm Woodside on the hills. Lackstraw was a very busy lady at her farm. and she was allowed to enjoy the pleasures of the metropolis as frequently as she chose. So Jane was left to him. She loved the country. The pale square-browed young officer. by rendering it attractive.' They agreed as to his unlikeness to fluid Patrick. some such impression of her frigid mournfulness might have struck a recumbent invalid. and at first induced her aunt to join her in the daily walk of half a mile to sit with him. and the jellies and fresh dairy dainties and neat little dishes she was constantly despatching to the place. when recommending his cousin to her charitable nature. who could be playful in privacy with friends.' as he added. beware of what it is that great heiresses are courted for. Mrs. and strictly a Catholic. the most vigilant and plain-spoken of her sex. Charitableness. the fact that she was an admirable nurse and liked to exercise her natural gift. Grace Barrow noticed certain little changes of mood in Jane she could scarcely have had a distinct suspicion at the time. see well to have the woman's precious word No at the sentinel's post. so little Irish and winning in his brevity of speech. I should not like to offend him. or of the neighbour to him. and supervision can be done at a distance if the subordinate is properly attentive to the rules we lay down. Springtide in the country set her singing. as Jane appeared to be.' Captain Con said to Jane. my dear cousin . The nursing of a man of Letters. after he had taken lodgings at a farmhouse near Mrs. according to report. Jane least of any would have thought what was coming to pass. and of how unlike Patrick he was.

dear.Pat! why are you so long away from your desponding Jane? I 'll take to poetry and write songs.' said Grace. I can imagine him lying on the battle-field night after night quietly. tickled Jane's dormant ear to some drowsy wakefulness. Pat.' 'I've tried.' though it was not stressed. if you don't come home soon. The story had not recurred to her since she had undertaken her service. But soldiers. I know you 'll bring home a foreign Princess to break the heart of your faithful. He doesn't confide it to his hospital nurse. It coloured the remainder of an evening walk home through the beechwoods and over the common with Grace. only you don't rattle the eighteenth letter of the alphabet in the middle of words.' said Grace. But I'll always praise you for a dear boy. and beg the good gentleman your brother to give me a diploma as nurse to your firstborn. at all events!--and he takes it naturally and simply. for her friend's humour was not as a rule dramatic. 'I think too much honour is paid to it. not once. He had made a little money by a book. as you know. She knew a story of him contradicting that. and are behaving to me as an enemy. You've put seas between us. and I like that in all things. These officers bear illness well. 'He shows perfect good sense. Miss Colesworth was coming to her next week. Adister had been waiting on him all the while. Jane remembered having once been curious about this adventurous man of Letters who lived by the work of his pen. I doubt if he would have complained if Mrs." as boys say. 'You really have caught a twang of it from your friend Captain Con. or not a soul. Jane shook her head. and can't persuade my tongue to do it "first off.' Grace felt obliged to insist on that: and her 'I think. with her brother if he had arrived in England.' 'Still I think it a horrid profession. just in that military style.' Jane replied. She remembered comparing him to one who was compelled to swim perpetually without a ship to give him rest or land in view. He has never complained. and her walk across the same tracks early in the morning. one would expect to be overwhelmed by a feeling of weakness.' 'Too great a power of self-repression sometimes argues the want of any emotional nature. and Grace was a trifle astonished. and my invalid has no brogue whatever to keep me in practice. certainly. resolving not to groan. A red-haired young woman chooses to wait on him and bring him flowers--he's brother to Patrick in his love of wild flowers. I suppose it 's the drill.' 'Yes. after Grace had gone to London. he would treat her courteously. of all men. There now!' She finished smiling brightly. 'It 's the style I like best:--no perpetual personal thankings and allusions to the trouble he gives!' Jane exclaimed. realising the hospital attendance. and was . and wish you happy. 'One wonders what he thinks of as he lies there by the window.

and alone. and she hurried forward to have them in water-the next sacred obligation to the leaving of them untouched. she fancied Emma Colesworth to be thinking. toning down her delight. and was often a problem to the chief person interested in it. He talked well. she had reared herself on our poets. imaginative. but to windward of the cooking-reek. that also. He was near the farm-wife's kitchen. leads to finer civilisation. now he could feel he was embarked for recovery: and he told her how the farmer and one of his . He answered with the half-smile that refers these questions to the settled fact. Lackstraw's dread of the arrival of one of the minstrel order: and the girl. Is it quite prudent?' Jane said. windless. pleasantly warmed. wild nature's interpreter. yet idealistic. The day was one of sunshine. But now they cried out to her to be plucked in hosts. with open letter on the rug covering his legs. in her lively healthfulness.expending it on travels--rather imprudently. they claimed the sacrifice. was that day on the side of the children. She had reared herself on our poets. if requested. If much brooding on them will sometimes create a sentimentalism of the sentiment they inspire. Jane had a maxim that flowers should be spared to live their life. they rather tended to stamp her character than lead her into foolishness. spoke so flatly. felt so shrinkingly. that the look would give him a spring to health. Air had always brought him round. quick in sensibility. He whistled to Jane's dog Wayland. Passing through the garden-gate of Lappett's farm she made her way to the south-western face of the house to beg a bowl of water of the farmer's wife. primroses ran along the banks. she had the complex character of diverse brain and nerve. deep ditchbanks unrolled profuse tangles of new blades. The beech twigs were strongly embrowned. having Newfoundland relationships. forget that they are not full grown. and it seemed to her no violation of her sentiment to gather handfuls making a bunch that would have done honour to the procession of the children's May-day--a day she excused for the slaughter because her idol and prophet among the poets. 'Out? I feared it would be a week. of smithy redness and ruggedness. Blunt of speech. hence Mrs. Lappett her primroses. would refuse to pluck a wildflower. in the painful effort to reconcile apparent antagonism and read themselves. Longer than others are they young: but meanwhile they are of an age when we are driven abroad to seek and shape our destinies. it was the whistle that startled her to turn and see him as she was in the act of handing Mrs. brooded so softly! Such natures. the larches shot up green spires by the borders of woods and on mounds within. and had the sweet surprise of seeing her patient lying under swallows' eaves on a chair her brother had been commissioned to send from London for coming uses. sufficiently shaded. How like a bath of freshness would the thick faintly-fragrant mass shine to her patient! Only to look at it was medicine! She believed. odorous: one of the rare placid days of April when the pettish month assumes a matronly air of summer and wears it till the end of the day. but for the present she was happier in her prospect of nearly a week of loneliness. She thought so decisively. a retriever. especially flowers of the wilds. and sharp eyes might light on a late white violet overlooked by the children. who could deliberately cut a bouquet from the garden. after our manner of developing. and as her very delicate feelings were not always tyrants over her clear and accurate judgement.

They were fixed on her in his manner of gazing with strong directness. I am sure. 'I am to read it through?' she said. more than anything earthly. after a run over some lines. she handed him his open letters. trust me for holding a mob in leash. She read the contrary opinion. and read: 'MY DEAR PHILIP. and some hieroglyphic matter besides. Jane supposed: She spoke of him as the most devoted of husbands. He nodded. well-known to her by this time. Jane drank his look at the flowers. 'We can none of us live for ever. A slight hardening of Philip's brows. and yours the blame. I promise you a sounding report from the Kincora Herald. by the proper person. They will not say of me after that (and read only the speeches reported in the local paper) "what is the man but an Irish adventurer!" He is a lover of his country. though I will be the last to fling it at you. on my way. which will be delivered seasonably to the lady chiefly concerned. then. 'Yes. Seeing his fingers grope on the rug. and fresh water every day will keep them alive a good long time. He would be one of the first to rush to the standard if there were danger. She thought it a sign of his friendliness in sharing family secrets with her. and asked her to read it. 'You gathered them?' he said. Do they not seem a bath of country happiness!' Evidently they did their service in pleasing him. My spirits are up.' she replied. She hears this morning I 'm off on a hasty visit to Ireland.' Philip's broad look at her had not swerved. I know he would. They had it from the clouds yesterday. drove him to the step-to the ruin of his domestic felicity . She took the letter.--Not a word of these contents. Captain Con. Philip O'Donnell. 'I have a great liking for him. and pretty Kitty before I cross. And that stigmatic title of long standing. Judging by the wind this morning. caused her to interrogate his eyes. as I have been preparing her of late to expect I must. M. He selected the second. was attending her. and one of millions. The bowl of primroses placed beside him on a chair by the farmer's dame diverted it for a moment. if any. My election to the vacancy must be reckoned beforehand. His tirades about the Saxon tyrant are not worth mentioning. and they are tolerably alike. But if I am in the nature of things unable to command the waves. I meet Father B.men had lent a shoulder to present him to his old and surest physician-rather like a crippled ghost. they mean nothing. we will hope. 'We all respect him for his single-hearted care of her.' she said. wondering a little that it should be in Captain Con's handwriting. He is truly chivalrous. Now the die is cast. Adister was upstairs in bed with one of her headaches. passing under his inspection. the passage will furnish good schooling for a spell of the hustings.

like the airy bird to his home in the corn. Have I not often informed her myself that a flower from her hand means more than treasures from the hands of others. now it is action. and her mind became suffused with a series of pictures of the chameleon captain planted in view of the Roman to become a copy of him. Appreciate her. His dryness in hitting the laughable point diverted her. to their mutual benefit. after a shining example. it struck her that the prolonged directness of his look was peculiar: she attributed it to some effect of the fresh Spring atmosphere on a weakened frame. or perish in my esteem. 'An election to Parliament! Perhaps Mrs. on the highway. In doing so. 'Think you. Now adieu and pax vobiscum. We will talk of the consolidation of the Union by and by. But we are past sighing. As the chameleon gets his colour. when he crossed the tide. Reap the rich harvest of your fall to earth. sir. or cherish him beaten--which is not in the prospect. Adister should have a hint of it. so that she did not peruse the terminating lines with her wakefullest attention: 'The liege lady of my heart will be the earliest to hail her hero triumphant. Caius Julius Caesar sighed? 'No. A wife must come second to that if she would be first in her husband's consideration. we get our character from the objects we contemplate .' Jane glanced over the edge of the letter sheet rosily at Philip.perhaps. She is one whom not to love is to be guilty of an offence deserving capital punishment. . nor thought of his life. I leave you in the charge of the kindest of nurses. Hurrah me on. which is my love of the land of my birth. I stand by the truth. nor his wife. Con sleeps with a corner of the eye open. and let me fancy I hear you shouting it. and you are where I leave you. when certain things are done. though seeming to go at a funeral pace to certain ceremonies leading to the union of the two countries in the solidest fashion. and they appeared possibly serious. aware of when it is best to be out of the way. and a bastinado to season the culprit for his execution.' The drop of the letter to the signature fluttered affectionately on a number of cordial adjectives. You are for that. Let Ireland be true to Ireland. . CHAPTER XIX MARS CONVALESCENT Jane's face was clear as the sky when she handed the letter back to Philip. and you are not the only soldier who is a strategist. She was guessing at his reasons for showing her the letter. Philip. next to the wife of my bosom the best of women.' she said. and a tactician too. my boy! I know what I am about when I set my mind on a powerful example. to soften the shock I fear it may be: but we must wait till her headache has passed. but of the thing to be done. you say. . Expect me absent for a week. The harangues will not be closely reported. Laugh.

Jane found her patient being worried by his official nurse. She proposed to send her name up to Mrs.' 'Yes. at the usual hours of the day. I suppose?' Philip signified that it was too late.' said Philip. eloquent of his thoughts. 'Well.' 'For you he has a real love. He was moreover of opinion. and he let fall a breath. a bundle of a woman.' 'He finds himself among reasonable men. whose lumbering assiduities he fenced with reiterated humourous negatives to every one of her propositions.' 'Parliament may steady him. Her patient might be annoyed and needing sympathy? 'After all. We want all our strength in these days of monstrous armies directed by banditti Councils. he may be trusted not to wound us. Nothing would stop him. until she prefaced the last two or three of the list with a 'Deary me!' addressed consolatorily to herself. But this may prove a desperate step. felt how hard it must be for him to bear. She went through the same forms each day. he may listen to us at times.' she said. and I see the many faults we have. 'My brother says he is a serviceable director of the Company they are associated in. On her return from the poor lady racked with headache and lying little conscious of her husband's powder-barrel under the bed. But he calls himself our friend.' Philip's eyebrows lifted. I think it. 'That is a danger. Jane wondered why the letter had been shown. Adister. that it would be advisable to leave the unfolding of the present secret to the captain.' said she.'You read to the end?' said Philip. and stated it in his briefest. I am unmitigatedly for the one country--no divisions. The secret of his happiness is in extreme jeopardy. and I am bound to confess I have no positive disrelish of his compliments. and he is a chameleon. Captain Con always amuses me.' 'It is too much of a platform for Con's head. there is more of poet than politician. 'Captain Con may turn out to be a very good sort of member of Parliament in his way. At least she strives to be that. a farm-labourer's wife. I think he really has a liking for John and me. Oh! surely it is her aim. . then.' Her patient's eyelids were down. 'Yes. though she would have felt the apathetic doltishness of the woman less. and Jane. England is the nation of the Christian example to nations.

that she might consult with Mrs. they were unseen. and that he did not speak of his family's exclamations on the subject because of Kathleen's being so good-looking a girl. a log. and gently rose to slip away. The arrival of her diurnal basket of provisions offered a refreshing intervention of the commonplace. She looked at a white fleece that came across the sun. So might he lie on the battle-field. with no one to watch over him! While she watched. but Irish.'Your sister will be with you soon. desiring to conjure it to stay and shadow him.' A silence of long duration fell between them. Like Patrick in face.' 'She is a raw Irish girl.' said Philip. ultimately of Captain Con and Mrs. Adister. It seemed to have meant to detain her. and she thought him asleep. He asked her if she was going. I know. a sister must resemble these handsome features here. and yet I hope you will not allow her to put me aside altogether?' 'You shall do as you wish. and rolled heavily. April's. Lappett about putting up some tentcover. 'Is she like Patrick? Her name is Kathleen. I mean.' 'She will delight my brother. She had sight of a tear that grew big under the lashes of each of his eyelids. Jane was hungry too. . 'I am glad.' 'We think her a good-looking girl. A hasty smoothing to right and left removed the traces. 'Not home.' 'I hope she will be pleased with England. but stopped. It sailed by.' 'Does she play? sing?' 'Some of our ballads. her strange impressions and her way of proclaiming them. She raised her parasol.' she said. John loves Irish ballads. Meditating on her unanswered question of Miss Kathleen's likeness to Patrick. Jane imagined a possibly greater likeness to her patient. She fancied he would like to sleep. Her own eyes overflowed. His eyelids were shut. of good Irish training. and when she ventured to look at him again there was no sign of fresh drops falling.' she said. sitting close beside him to shield his head from the sunbeams. His hand moved. talking of Kathleen on her journey. She accused her silly visions of having softened her. and anticipated cheating the doctor of a part of the sentence which condemned him to lie on his back up to the middle of June. His eyelids kept shut. her heart began to throb before she well knew the secret of it. and of Patrick and where he might be now. The fit of weeping was momentary. and they feasted together gaily. quiescent to inspection in their marble outlines as a corse. For if good-looking. a novelty with her. Bright air had sharpened his appetite: he said he had been sure it would.

'She is an excellent woman.' Philip said sternly.' 'A good fortune. .' she said.' 'I wish indeed he had been more candid. 'She will have the right to tell him so.' Jane assented to the sarcasm.' she said. 'In Ireland he is agreeably surprised by the flattering proposal of a vacant seat.' said Jane. lying--there is no other word: and one lie leads to another. 'I forgot to mention that Mrs. assumes the consent of the heavenliest wife in Christendom.' Philip replied. 'No. He never can be anything but a comic politician. 'We are not certain that Mrs. Adister will object. When he married a fortune he was a successful adventurer. and not having an instant to debate on it. He knows that he married a fortune. 'He will listen to you. Adister will ever allow you to feel the lightest shadow .' said she. 'Do you see her reading a speech of her husband's?' he remarked. while she . The effort wearied him. a model of uprightness. He crushed her charitable apologies with references to the letter.' Had this been the burden of his thoughts when those two solitary tears forced their passage? Hardly: not even in his physical weakness would he consent to weep for such a cause. . His duty as a man of honour is to be true to his bond and serve the lady.' Jane pleaded for Captain Con. She supposed he was regretting his cousin's public prominence in the ranks of the malcontents. that makes it worse. Falseness to his position won't wash him clean of the title. do not think Mrs.'He has broken faith with her. Philip acquiesced.' Philip delivered the speech with a partial imitation of Captain Con addressing his wife on his return as the elected among the pure Irish party. 'He is chivalrously attentive to her. The compact was understood.' 'You have read his letter. Philip answered: 'He is punctilious. Still he was bound to consult his wife previous to stepping before the public.' said Jane. Presently with something like a moan: 'And I am her guest!' 'Oh! pray. and here is he deceiving her. Adister has a letter from her husband telling her he has been called over to Ireland on urgent business. she has done him all the good in the world.

They train you to concentrate the brain upon the object of study. 'I shake a scarlet cloak to you?' said Philip. Rockney denounce for disloyal insolence: he could find excuses for them and their dupes-poor creatures. 'Are they really your opinions?' He seemed relieved by declaring that they were. He was at a Jesuit college in France when he was wax. verily! And his utterances had a shocking emphasis. He stated the terms. which were hardly less than the affrighting ones blown across the Irish sea by that fierce party. you would consider me guilty of greater than any poor Con is likely to commit. Antics are harmless.' 'What is the best?' 'Their training to study. Happily Patrick has held his own. He held them to be just.' said she. though they get us laughed at.smiled at his unwonted display of mimicry. 'Patrick is quite free of them. 'We will hope that the Irish fever will spare Patrick. simply sensible terms.' Jane's features implied a gentle shudder. . her first impression of him! She could not quit the theme: doing that would have been to be indifferent: something urged her to it. But he praised names of Irish leaders whom she had heard Mr. 'A bad mentor for him.' 'Were I in that position.' 'But what are the terms?' He must have desired to paint himself as black to her as possible. Then she was not wrong in her idea of the conspirator's head. and so long as they don't smelt a man's private conscience. Now he's taking the world. And they train you to accept service: they fit you for absolute service: they shape you for your duties in the world. Not the Jesuits would have a chance of keeping a grasp on Patrick! He'll always be a natural boy and a thoughtful man. that will hold it fast.' said Philip. he spoke of the granting them as a sure method to rally all Ireland to an ardent love of the British flag. 'You may restrain him from excesses. I am for union on juster terms. True.' 'With so little of the Jesuit in him!' 'Little of the worst: a good deal of the best. they are model masters.' 'Surely you are not for disunion?' 'The reverse.

Jane called to the farm-wife.She was directed by his words to think of the scarlet coat.' Could she have had the temerity? Jane marvelled at herself. And it was instantly: 'Not in arms. There'd be an end to any professional career. And here. as incapable of conceiving as of bestowing pleasure: a bald cry for pennies through the barest pretence to be agreeable but Jane found it hard to be tolerant of them out of London. Happily politics and I have no business together. Not without pathos in the abstract perhaps do the wretched machines pursue their revolutions of their factory life. and this one affecting her invalid and Mrs. 'Would not Patrick's counsels have an influence?' 'Hitherto our Patrick has never presumed to counsel his elder brother. befouled the pure air she loved. his kepi was blue. . The instrument was one of the number which are packed to suit all English tastes and may be taken for a rough sample of the jumble of them. It yelled of London to Jane. 'I remember your singing that the week before I went to India. Captain Con would have shed them over Erin. and many of them.' He tried an explanation by likening the dissension to a wrangle in a civilised family over an unjust division of property. Thus does the poor Savoyard compel a rich people to pay for their wealth.' 'But an officer wearing . 'I reflect a little on the substance of things as well. and his coat was red. Generally I let them rest. striking at that extreme to elicit the favourable answer her tones angled for. his tailor had rigged him as a military gentleman. and her scarlet blush flooded her face. Jane observed him listening. .' 'The uniform! That would have to be stripped off. throttled the spirits of the woods. A jerky monkey was attached to the organ.' 'You would not regret it?' 'No sorrow is like a soldier's bidding farewell to flag and comrades.' she said. and by degrees she distinguished a maundering of the Italian song she had one day sung to Patrick in his brother's presence. an itinerant barrel-organ crashed its tragic tale of music put to torture at the gate. Philip assured her he was not annoyed. If the country favours me with active service I'm satisfied for myself. 'You would countenance a revolt?' she said. You asked me for my opinions: I was bound to give them. . He spied an objectionable animal. Captain Philip's tone was too plain and positive: he would be a most practical unhistrionic rebel. as he was marking the case with some nicety and difficulty. whose last drawl pert polka kicks aside. where a danceless quadrille-tune succeeds a suicidal Operatic melody and is followed by the weariful hymn. threw a smoke over the country sky. Adister must be dismissed. Wayland was growling. She doubted that the weighty pair of tears had dropped for the country. he had to be held by the collar.' said Philip.

' Mrs. and I would not incur his blame. The similarity to the regimental band heading soldiers on the march from Church might have struck Philip.'Can you endure the noise?' she asked him. quickened in spite of himself by the sham sounds of music to desire changes and surprises. Lappett came answering to the call. 'Very well. we think it so cheerful!' cried Mrs. and then they jumped again to the step for lively legs. 'not on these hills!--and it must be a trial for the wretched men to climb them. I hope. 'Con would have argued him out of hearing before he ground a second note. .' The eyes of Jane and Philip shot an exchange. that thing on their backs. The leaps of the children were dashed.' The appearance of Mrs. 'Anything you command." But I used to like it once.' 'They are as accustomed to it as mountain smugglers bearing packs of contraband.' Mrs. Con will never forgive me if you catch a cold. but with painful suggestions of his foregone drilling in the ceremony.' 'Let me believe it! You have heard from him? But you are in the air! exposed! My head makes me stupid. always considerate for children.' said Philip. It is now five o'clock.' 'Within a fortnight. Now the hymn of Puritanical gloom-the peacemaker with Providence performing devotional exercises in black bile. 'We are safe nowhere from these intrusions. Adister. 'Bless me. Adister said. Lappett. Jane was wondering whether he could be a man still to brood tearfully over his old love. A sallow two or three minutes composed their motions. responsive to a livelier measure. The air begins to chill. She had forgotten the racked Mrs. The monkey saluted militarily. Adister with features which were the acutest critical summary of the discord caused toll to be paid instantly. She echoed him.' said Philip. madam.' said Jane. madam. 'Con would say it shrieks "murder. 'I have no idea when Con returns from his unexpected visit to Ireland. 'I wonder when I shall see Patrick!' he said. Her children were seen up the garden setting to one another with squared aprons. and they beheld a flashing of white teeth and heard Italian accents. and glanced at her young ones harmonious and out of mischief. miss. 'And I! Soon.' she resumed.

. And he was honour's own. 'Hunting. Hard men have sometimes a warm affection for dogs. My brother Edward had one like it in his youth. . she could not interpose to thwart his act of resignation. She called him 'dear old fellow. The farmer. . he must rest his back and not use his legs for months. my dear.He looked up and breathed his heaven of fresh air. His intention was . her blood spun round and round. . Jane took her leave of Philip beside his couch of imprisonment in his room. And it certainly revived an ancient accusation against his countrymen. was it not?' said Jane. . He must have had his intention: and now as to his character!--Jane was of the order of young women possessing active minds instead of figured paste-board fronts.' And Captain Philip showed her the letter: She perceived motives beginning to stir. But could he be imagined seeking to put her on her guard? There may be modesty in men well aware of their personal attractions: they can credit individual women with powers of resistance. By these lights of his character she read the act. Walking homeward she likewise gave Wayland a hug. warning him not to be faithless ever to the mistress who loved him. Soldiers are desperate creatures.' That was rather different from a fall on duty before the enemy. the moment of keen perception was overclouded by her innate distrust of her claim to feminine charms. He embraced her old dog Wayland tenderly. and the question of his character confirmed it. He was not vain to the degree which stupefies the sense of there being weight or wisdom in others. it was not very considerate to show the poor man to her in his natural colours. why had he not placed confidence in her and commissioned her to speak of his election to his wife? Irishmen will never be quite sincere!--But why had his cousin exposed him to one whom he greatly esteemed? However angry he might be with Con O'Donnell in his disapproval of the captain's conduct. Jane pitied. Was not her old Wayland as good a protector as the footman Mrs. promising to return in the early morning. waving the reply as a torch.' 'I think Mr. Adister said to Jane: 'The doctor's orders are positive:--if he is to be a man once more. he wrote: 'I leave you to . . . He was near to being a permanent cripple from that fall. crutched. If he cared for her so much. and even while she saw it accurately. Adister had his fall when hunting. while Mrs. She had a dim remembrance of words ensuing: 'ceremonies going at a funeral pace . and a footman. Those words: 'The consolidation of the Union:' sprang up. incurred by severe exhaustion after sunstroke! . Adister pressed her to have at her heels? That he was! Captain Con's behaviour grieved her. For why should he wish her to understand that he was no fortune-hunter and treated heiresses with . . As soon as she had asked herself the nature of the design of so honourable a man as Captain Philip in showing her his cousin's letter. on the highway to the solidest kind of union:'--Yes. who see what there is to be seen about them and know what may be known instead of decorously waiting for the astonishment of revelations. home for tea. took him between them.' and questioned him of his fondness for her.

though too intent and forcible to win the spirit from the object. perhaps that he had never thanked her. She paid for this indulgence of her mood by losing the spirit entirely. How is it that sensible women can be so susceptible? For. So the pursuit of the mystery ended. as it had commenced.greater reserve than ordinary women! How could it matter to him? She saw the tears roll. showing Nature at work rather to enchain the victim than bid her daughter go.' not one had moved her to regret the refusal. they find their level. Her lust of freedom gave her the towering holiday. not likely to be.--What was she doing when they fell? She was shading his head from the sun. where even a thought of a presence was thrust away as a desecration and images of souls in thought were shadowy. She lived in the hope of simply doing good. she sang. dimly recognised for such--as they may be in truth. poor soul! helpless to escape it. Had she asked herself the reason of her extended speculation. and could not. are accepted under their disguises. and passionateness of any kind in narrower brains should be a proclamation to us of sanguine freshets not coming from a spiritual source. his friend's. Thrilling to kindness. if those tears came of the repressed desire to thank her with some little warmth? He was honour's own. because disguise of them is needed by the bashful spirit which accuses itself of audaciousness in presuming to speculate. And it was no unreal love. her foot would not have stopped more abruptly on the edge of a torrent than she on that strange road of vapours and flying lights. yet the laden emotions of her nature brought her round by another channel to the stage neighbouring sight. where facts. Rumour spoke of Emma Colesworth having a wing clipped. but of a milder sort and partially transparent at one or two of the gates she had touched. an absolutely unflushed freedom. .' She did not reflect that the strong glow of poetic imagination is wanted to hallow a passionate devotion to the inanimate for this evokes the spiritual. weak and tongue-tied: hence those two bright volumes of his condition of weakness. She did not. What. thought Jane. The tears of such a man have more of blood than of water in them. A mind capable of seeing was twisted by a nature that would not allow of open eyes. he felt. and warmhearted Patrick talked of him as a friend whose heart was. the moment a woman is what is called in love. happier than poor Grace Barrow's. she sent her voice through the woods and took the splendid ring of it for an assurance of her peculiarly unshackled state. She took the delirium in her own pure fashion. Jane of course meant the poet's 'Nature. one who would bear to be matched with her brother. She loved this liberty. He lay there. that sweet lonely walk. and could only give her hand to a man able to direct and help her. But the heart betraying deluded her. Of the men who had 'done her the honour. Therefore she had her freedom. she can give her heart no longer to the innocent things about her. she is cut away from Nature: that pure well-water is tasteless to her. perfect in loneliness. Tears of men sink plummet-deep. then. Who was he? Not discoverable. She fancied she had not ever been so wedded to Nature as on that walk through the bursting beechwoods. and. in confusion. To me it is wine! The drinking of the pure well-water as wine is among the fatal signs of fire in the cup. in a love of the bankside flowers and the downy edges of the young beech-buds fresh on the sprays.

Could it be possible that human persons were subject to the spells of persons with tastes. can almost understand what poetry means May lull themselves with their wakefulness Never forget that old Ireland is weeping Not every chapter can be sunshine Not likely to be far behind curates in besieging an heiress Not the great creatures we assume ourselves to be Nursing of a military invalid awakens tenderer anxieties Paying compliments and spoiling a game! Secret of the art was his meaning what he said Suggestion of possible danger might more dangerous than silence Tears of men sink plummet-deep . like the organ-monkey. Thereupon came glimpses of the gulfs of bondage. foreign. an endless mystery. Beautiful women may believe themselves beloved. when not fretted by them Loves his poets. and despising it even more than the wretched engine of the harshness. The battle was won without a blow. as a volunteer champion of our offended race. What had gone she could not tell: her very soul she almost feared. and read flatness. pursuits alien to theirs? It was a riddle taxing her to solve it for the resistance to a monstrous iniquity of injustice. practices. sounded the cloying tune through her frame. appearing interminable. Not his the fault! She revered him too deeply to lay it on him. and she read. until perforce she usurped the note. ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: A whisper of cajolery in season is often the secret Ah! we're in the enemy's country now Beautiful women may believe themselves beloved Could peruse platitudes upon that theme with enthusiasm Foamy top is offered and gulped as equivalent to an idea Hard men have sometimes a warm affection for dogs He was not alive for his own pleasure Hug the hatred they packed up among their bundles I baint done yet Irishmen will never be quite sincere Loudness of the interrogation precluded thought of an answer Love the children of Erin. And saying to herself: This is what moves them! she was moved. an insatiable thirst for the mystery. Why am I not beautiful. One thrill of appreciation drew her on the tide. passed into the vulgar sugariness. and once drawn from shore she became submerged. aims. And Oh! it could not be. roseenfolded.At night she was a spent rocket. She heard crashes of the opera-melody. they were chapters of soft romance. She attacked it in the abstract. They are privileged to believe. She struck a light to try her poet on the shelf of the elect of earth by her bed. she was led by it. was her thought. they are born with the faith. degrading her conception of our humanity. delicious. Whose was it? She had a vision of the gulfs of bondage. Her glorious walk through the wood seemed burnt out. tyrannically led a captive. lost herself. Those voluptuous modulations of melting airs are the natural clothing of beautiful women.

whose trick is to turn corners of unanticipated sharpness Twisted by a nature that would not allow of open eyes With death. Please read this important information. but they laugh extinguishingly Time. I. at the end of the file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an entire meal of them. CAROLINE IV. we usually do not keep etexts in compliance with any particular paper edition. WHEREIN AN EXCURSION IS MADE IN A CELTIC MIND II. This etext was produced by David Widger [NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks. Thus. we'd rather not. or pointers. MR. CAPTAIN CON AND MRS. THE PRINCESS V. AT THE PIANOS CHIEFLY WITHOUT MUSIC VI. because of a qualm Woman's precious word No at the sentinel's post. THE MINIATURE VIII.Tears of such a man have more of blood than of water in them They laugh. as it gives you specific rights and tells you about restrictions in how the file may be used. ADISTER O'DONNELL IX. THE CAPTAIN'S CABIN X. The "legal small print" and other information about this book may now be found at the end of this file.] CELT AND SAXON By George Meredith 1910. ADISTER III. v1 by George Meredith editions.W. D. THE BROTHERS . all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US unless a copyright notice is included. A CONSULTATION: WITH OPINIONS UPON WELSH WOMEN AND THE CAMBRIAN RACE VII. CONTENTS BOOK 1. and alert Would like to feel he was doing a bit of good The Celt and Saxon.

Examining his ticket with an apparent curiosity. and stay. WHEREIN AN EXCURSION IS MADE IN A CELTIC MIND II. ADISTER O'DONNELL IX. THE MINIATURE VIII. upon his considering that he had expended pounds English for the privilege of making the journey in this very train. THE BROTHERS XI. by purchase of a railway-ticket. to travel direct to the borders of North Wales. THE CAPTAIN'S CABIN X. BULL AND THE CELTIC AND SAXON VIEW OF HIM: AND SOMETHING OF RICHARD ROCKNEY XVII. MARS CONVALESCENT CELT AND SAXON BOOK 1. CROSSING THE RUBICON XVIII. But his inclinations were also subject to question. INTRODUCING A NEW CHARACTER BOOK 2. had bound himself. He asked himself earnestly what was the nature of the power which forced him to do it--a bad genius or a good: and it seemed to him a sort of answer. THE DINNER-PARTY XIV. hardly a distinction of him until we know him. THE PRINCESS V. MR. OF ROCKNEY XV. CAPTAIN CON'S LETTER X1X. the son of a greener island debated whether it would not be better for him to follow his inclinations. whose family-seat was where the hills begin to lift and spy into the heart of black mountains. INTRODUCING A NEW CHARACTER CHAPTER I WHEREIN AN EXCURSION IS MADE IN A CELTIC MIND A young Irish gentleman of the numerous clan O'Donnells. now that he had gone so far as to pay for the journey. A CONSULTATION: WITH OPINIONS UPON WELSH WOMEN AND THE CAMBRIAN RACE VII. still his present position involved a certain outlay of money simply. THE MATTOCK FAMILY XVI. CAROLINE IV. OF THE GREAT MR. inasmuch as it silenced the contending parties. I. True. MISS MATTOCK XIII. CAPTAIN CON AND MRS. AT THE PIANOS CHIEFLY WITHOUT MUSIC VI. ADISTER III. on a visit to a notable landowner of those marches.XI. nevertheless. to buy a ticket to shy it away is an incident so uncommon. that he had been the victim of an impetus. and a Patrick. the Squire Adister. and that was true. that if we can but pause to dwell on the . not at all his bondage to the instrument it had procured for him. XII.

the condition shall be said to belong exclusively to Celtic nature. she was the crowned one! For a personal proof. He was a juvenile thinker. look where he would: and vividly was she beside the hurrying beck where it made edges and chattered white. and to discover himself here. The natural revelry of the blood in speed suffers a violent shock. and there is little of a portrait in that. He had not seen. he could not imagine her face: angelic dashed with demon beauty. flicked his imagination with awe of the influence of the railway service upon the destinies of man. or upon a London suburb yet he looked thirstingly. quite isolated and unsound. by the aid of his reflections and a remainder of the impetus. he drove across the land so foreign to his eyes and affections. seeing that it had been drawn directly from a scion of one of those tribes. as if the renouncing of our independence into their hands had given us a taste of a will of our own. But oh! she was merciless. not to speak of our notion of being left behind. Mr. For this was the air once breathed by Adiante Adister. doubt of it distracts the understanding--decapitates us. now deeming the negative sternly in the ascendant. we are eager for the performance of their contract to do what we are only half inclined to. where he both wished and wished not to be. if you insist. Or. between whom and his destination there is an agreement to meet if they can. be they Saxon or others. Denis. immediately. Yonder bare hill she came racing up with a plume in the wind: she was over the long brown moor. stoppages at stations are impertinences. his rose-world in the dust-world. that when we have submitted our persons to the charge of public companies. Settling a mental debate about a backward flight. now: he had her all round him in a strange district though he had never cast eye on her. moreover. when we go in a determined manner. we are unlikely to abjure our fellowship with them who would not be guilty of it. is anything but a reconstruction of the edifice. and breasted a strong tide of wishes that it were in a contrary direction. which have so much the habit of supposing it must be whither we intend. she was a witch. suddenly to alight. And how had she rewarded him for that reverential love of her? She had forborne to kill him. and find ourselves dropped at the heels of flying Time. He would rather have looked upon the desert under a sand-storm. To be imperfectly in accord with the velocity precipitating us upon a certain point. It is an experience of hesitating minds. he had seen his brother hale and stout not long back. The delicate thing had not picked his bones: Patrick admitted it. though we could excuse it for breaking down. like an unconsidered bundle. the saintly in his earthly. The bitter sylph of the mountain lures men to climb till she winds them in vapour and leaves them groping. was his idea of the woman. innocent of the red crags below. his elder brother Philip's love and lost love: here she had been to Philip flame along the hill-ridges. and the delivery of us at last on the platform is an astonishment. Young Patrick jumped from the train as headless as good St. the train cannot go fast enough to please us. but he was of a world where the elemental . for it is not we who have done it--we have not even desired it. and therefore.singularity of the act. Patrick O'Donnell stepped into a carriage of the train like any ordinary English traveller. that a. is to be going without our heads. Each variation of landscape of the curved highway offered him in a moment decisive features: he fitted them to a story he knew: the whole circle was animated by a couple of pale mounted figures beneath no happy light. If ever queen-witch was.

He kept it in modest reserve. a subject rejected of poets. taking no hue in the flat chronicle of history: but a faithless woman. Cry.is more individual than the concrete. She naturally said it of him in eulogy. he was the most devoted of cousins. as common gentlemen keep their physical strength. He came for the purpose of obtaining Miss Adister's Continental address. Love was his visionary temple. and then forthwith to proceed in search of her. it stained the earth and was excommunicated. to gather what he could of her from her relatives. His reluctance to look on Earlsfont sprang from the same source as unacknowledged craving to see the place. after a four years' division of the lovers. for men are not those holy creatures whose conduct strikes on the soul with direct edge: a faithless man is but a general villain or funny monster. a military captain of the O'Donnells had in old days played the adventurer and charmed a maid of a certain age into yielding her hand to him. fruits. and he has descendants yet! But the youth was not disposed unnecessarily to blazon his princeliness. it. Could anything be simpler? He had familiarised himself with the thought of his advocacy during those four years. while a question of blood would have fired his veins to rival heat of self-assertion. He conceived it in the feminine. however much it went against his nature to perform. who might easily have been less than that. an entirely lucky thing for the finder. and his idea of love was the solitary light in it. there could be no pardon of the crime. It has to be stated that the object of the youngster's expedition to Earlsfont was perfectly simple in his mind. that he might plead with her on behalf of his brother Philip. Shortly after the union. if misfortune it could subsequently be called to lose an Adiante. barely any for repentance. The Adister family were not gifted to read into the heart of a young man of a fanciful turn. mixed with a relish of his hospitality: his wife's were constant in citing his gain by the marriage. as one that has achieved the goal of enterprise. it would have seemed to him. painfully susceptible to coldair currents from the stories of love abroad over the world. if sometimes wrinkled. and the lady was the squire of Earlsfont's only sister: she possessed funded property. how shall we speak of her! Women. An excellent husband. Patrick had not a thought of shame devolving on him from a kinsman that had shot at a mark and hit it. Who sees the shame of taking an apple from a garden of the Hesperides? And as England cultivates those golden. which had precipitated him thus far upon his road: he had a horror of scenes where a faithless girl had betrayed her lover. sacredly endowed with beauty and the wonderful vibrating note about the very mention of them. his own relatives accepted it in some contempt. are criminal to hideousness when they betray. . Could he possibly have been less than that? they exclaimed. in thinking about it. the gallant officer retired from the service nor did northwestern England put much to his credit the declaration of his wife's pronouncing him to be the best of husbands. and the liberal expenditure of his native eloquence for the furtherance of Philip's love-suit was the principal cause of the misfortune. Faithlessness he conceived to be obnoxious to nature. His reluctance to come would have been accountable to the Adisters by a sentiment of shame at his family's dealings with theirs: in fact. and unconceived of sight she was a recognised presence for the green-island brain of a youth whose manner of hating was to conjure her spirit from the air and let fly his own in pursuit of her. very loftily towering: there were Kings in Ireland: cry for one of them in Uladh and you will hear his name.

loathsomely. deception. ADISTER Mr. There had this woman lived! At the name of Earlsfont she became this witch. And Captain Con the same. and hoped to hear of perfect health in this quarter of the world. and he was very flourishing. and the severely-shining orderly regiment of books breathing of her whether she had opened them or not. Earlsfont was the title and summary of her black story: the reverberation of the word shook up all the chapters to pour out their poison. He took his impression of the hall that had heard her voice. sir! I am glad to see you. snake. It struck the young Irishman's ear as injurious and scornful in relation to Captain Con. having oftener seen that than any other. and in reply to. Patrick O'Donnell drove up to the gates of Earlsfont notwithstanding these emotions. as he bowed to his host. Captain Con wasn't born to increase the number of our clan. as from a brush of sepia. Adister. upon which light matter it is the habit of men of his blood too much to brood. The dim silver of half-lighted lakewater shot along below the terrace. the second man residing in the Celt put that fellow by and at once assumed the social character on his being requested to follow his card into Mr.' 'No. and the globes she had perchance laid hand on. and there is an instant echo of bleeding males in many circles. Therein you may detect the fiend.' . the door she had passed through. But if he did so when alone.' said swimmingly that Earlsfont was the first house he had visited in this country: and the scenery reminded him of his part of Ireland: and on landing at Holyhead he had gone off straight to the metropolis by appointment to meet his brother Philip. CHAPTER II MR. and the insensible race is the oxenish. the stairs she had descended. Those women are sovereignly attractive. too. just returned from Canada a full captain. but the remark ensuing calmed him: 'He has no children. sir. Our moralist had for some time been glancing at a broad. who heartily despatched his compliments and respects. Adister's library. and the old mappemonde. He knew the kind of sky. perhaps because the shower-folding armies of the fields above likened its shadowed stillness to that of his Irish home. He contemplated it placably and studiously. though it is for our better future to have a capacity for them. and he knew the house before it was named to him and he had flung a discolouring thought across it. handsome old country mansion on the top of a wooded hill backed by a swarm of mountain heads all purple-dark under clouds flying thick to shallow. Patrick's opening speech concluded on the sound of a short laugh coming from Mr. which at some remembering touch bewail their higher state. 'So. like the poor quavering flute-howl of transformed beasts.False! on them.

softer.' 'Women do these things. requiring to be softened at the mouth and along the brows.' . sir.' said Patrick. although Mr. Adister said. sir. Adister had not spoken miserably. I understand. He was tall. it might have gone to the elder. and his eyes. chancing to have been one of my godmothers. If they expressed more. the vivid indulgence of his own ideas helped him to catch the right meaning by the tail. as is the way with the livelier races. and he was enlightened upon a domestic unhappiness. were as little varied by motion of the lids as eyeballs of a stone bust. even in men. sir?' ''Tis a tramp of discovery.' Mr. 'A small one.' Patrick replied to his tone. with a dash of the mother mayhap somewhere. and my house. to compliment him by touching on his affairs. when he directed them on the person he addressed or the person speaking. he was led by the splendid severity of their lines to perceive an illimitable pride in the man likely to punish him in his offspring. to where bog ends and cultivation begins. who would inherit that as well. The 'dash of the mother' was thrown in to make Adiante. 'But my purse is Philip's. nor a vagrant Irishman. and had clear Greek outlines: the lips were locked metal. and thought: By heaven! I get a likeness of her out of you.' 'You propose to sit down over there?' 'When I've more brains to be of service to them and the land. The master of Earlsfont stood for a promise of beauty in his issue. thin as edges of steel. guessing that such features as he beheld would be slumped on a handsome family. so.Patrick rejoined.' 'Not bequeathed by a member of your family?' 'By a distant cousin. for.' 'Bequeathed to you exclusively over the head of your elder brother.' Mr. not in perfect approbation of their doings. whether they seize first or second the matter or the spirit of what they hear.' Patrick nodded assent. I do. Adister said. 'Productive. 'It is not your intention to be an idle gentleman?' 'No. and my horses. 'You have had the bequest of an estate. This was his Puckmanner of pulling a girdle round about from what was foremost in his head to the secret of his host's quiet observation. 'And I think too. because they were not sculptured eyes. it was the expression of his high and frigid nature rather than any of the diversities pertaining to sentiment and shades of meaning. and leave a loophole for her relenting. not a quarter of a county.

' said Patrick. Adister appeared to acquiesce. he referred to the fencing. After a pause between them. I've had lessons in the art.' 'The Fathers did me the service to knock all I know into me.' he said.' 'These Jesuits taught you the use of the foils?' 'They allowed me the privilege of learning. 'though there's no knowing what goes on in the cabins.' Mr. Patrick tried his art of fence with the absurdity by saying: 'All but like a native.' . You hunt?' Patrick's look was. 'Pardon me. you hit on another of my accomplishments.' After meditation. An Irish gentleman owning land might do worse. 'I think I have heard something of a Jesuit seminary.' 'You have been to Paris?' 'I was educated in Paris. you shall try them. Adister corrected himself in the higher notes of recollection. and call it education. Adister continued: 'Good runs are to be had here. Observations of sly import went by him like the whispering wind. sir. We hear of gentlemen now who neither hunt nor shoot. and Mr.' 'I am not aware that there is now an art of fencing taught in Ireland. 'Then you are accustomed to speak French?' The interrogation was put to extract some balm from the circumstance.' 'How? Ah!' Mr. Adister said: 'You don't dance?' He said it speculating on the' kind of gentleman produced in Paris by the disciples of Loyola.Mr. 'The professions are crammed. To this Patrick thought it well not to reply. sir. 'I was taught by a Parisian master of the art. I suppose. You are something of a shot. Adister pulled the arm of his chair. 'Give me a chance'. 'Your priests should know.' 'These Jesuits encourage dancing?' 'The square dance--short of the embracing: the valse is under interdict. You fence?' 'That's to say. by courtesy.' said Patrick.' 'Nor am I. sir. I am in favour of some degree of military training for all gentlemen. Mr. basking in the unobscured frown of his host.

Patrick thought he would have to rise: he half fancied himself summoned to change his religion or depart from the house. Adister could have exclaimed. sir?' said Mr. Mr. then. you are almost a Parisian. 'or whatever the devil can offer!--or. Adister.' he remarked. The young Catholic gentleman expected he might hear a frenetic zealot roar out: Be off! He was not immediately reassured by the words 'Dead or alive. and he replied: 'I don't happen to have an ambition for the title of Prince. The lack of precise words admonished him of the virtue of silence.' he spoke more pointedly. and Paris is to me as pure a place as four whitewashed walls:' Patrick added: 'without a shadow of a monk on them. then. 'Not for the title of Prince?' he was further pressed. Adister peered into his brows profoundly for a glimpse of the devilry in that exclusion of the valse. He said: 'They have not made a monk of you. What object had those people in encouraging the young fellow to be a perfect fencer and dancer. provoking the retort 'Thanks to them. you have a father!' . 'You would not change your religion.' The sceptical northern-blue eyes of his host dwelt on him with their full repellent stare. you are no Jesuit?' he was asked. Thinking it scarcely required a response.' said he.Mr.' 'Or any title!' interjected Mr. he shrugged. 'for what fools call a brilliant marriage?' 'My religion?' Patrick now treated the question seriously and raised his head: 'I'd not suffer myself to be asked twice. and he retreated--with a quiet negative: 'They have not. That shadow of the monk! had he been in an exclamatory mood. then.' Patrick was minded to explain how that the Jesuits are a religious order exercising worldly weapons.' 'Then. so that he should be of the school of the polite world. and yet subservient to them? 'Thanks to the Jesuits.' Perhaps it was thrown in for the comfort of mundane ears afflicted sorely. I've stored a little. Adister in seeming anger. and no point of principle pertained to the slur on a monk. 'Not I.

He remonstrated with them. her betrayal of Philip had nothing of a woman's base caprice to make it infamous: she had sacrificed him to her reading of duty. assuring them. for an inspection of which. and chain-belts bearing clasps of heads of beasts. under glass-cases. Mr. He would have been affected by these wonders had any relic of Adiante appeased his thirst. but such a sphere is ladder and ladder and silver ladder high above your hair-splitting pates. and have we not the word of heaven directing her to submit herself to him who is her husband before all others? That peerless Adiante had previously erred in the upper sphere where she received her condemnation. and spears. old gold ornaments. CHAPTER III CAROLINE Men of the Adister family having taken to themselves brides of a very dusty pedigree from the Principality. No thought of a possible apostasy had . Adister had sprung a new sense in him on the subject of the renunciation of the religion. He heard voices murmur that she might be praised. torques. sir!' With that he quitted his chair. and Mr. in the consideration of a real soul among the shifty creatures. you children of earth. shields on the armoury walls and huntinghorns. very precious. Thus did the ingenious Patrick change his ground and gain his argument with the celerity of one who wins a game by playing it without an adversary. Adister soon confirmed his view by saying: 'You are no disgrace to your begetting. Glorious girl that she was. blue-stone necklaces. and hospitably proposed to conduct his guest over the house and grounds. and the point of duty was in this instance rather a sacred one. She had offered up her love of Philip as a sacrifice to it: Patrick recollected that. Why was she absent from her home so long? where was she? How could her name be started? And was it she who was the sinner in her father's mind? But the idolatrous love between Adiante and her father was once a legend: they could not have been cut asunder. a shirt of coarse linen with a pale brown spot on the breast. like a fallen beech-leaf. and it is not for you to act on the verdict in decrying her: rather 'tis for you to raise hymns of worship to a saint. were in the library. Or had there been one mention of her. and the proud muse made her transcripts of them kneeling. and many sealed parchment-skins. as one who knew. Her lover. is her husband. of whom not a word was uttered. it would have disengaged him from the incessant speculations regarding the daughter of the house. there were curious rough heirlooms to be seen about the house. her parents are her second thought. He began to see that he was not implicated in a wrath that referred to some great offender. that a woman's first duty is her duty to her lover. No portrait of her was shown. and that was duty to her father. History humbly knocked at the Earlsfont hall-doors. and now with a softer gloom on his brooding he released her from the burden of his grand charge of unfaithfulness to the truest of lovers. and drinking-horns. as Patrick was bidden to understand. by acknowledging that he was in the presence of the sole rival of his brother.The spectacle of a state of excitement without a show of feeling was novel to Patrick. huge rings that must have given the wearers fearful fists.

An idea struck him that she might be the person who had been guilty of it over there on the Continent. that we heathen may get a peep of their secret rose-enfolded selves. helmet and plume at a corner of the armoury reminded Mr. He cast an odd look at the old shell containing him when he was a brilliant youth. the phantom likeness of her. quitting the stables to proceed to the gardens. for as yet it was unknown that she did it all for an O'Donnell. barely descried. he could at least consent to think well of her down here. in advance. Up there. If that was the case. and to Captain David's. and he leapt out of his tangle into the happy open spaces where the romantic things of life are as natural as the sun that rises and sets. and chased by you that she may interpret the mystical nature of the happiness of those two. they could hardly have thrown off their religion. for the blessed mischief it works with us. A reception-hall flung folding-doors on a grand drawing-room. and made a show of keeping the house alive. What if she had done it. to two or three of which the master of Earlsfont carelessly pointed. and the pretty good sort of welcome Patrick had received. where the fires in the grates went through the ceremony of warming nobody. for his guest to be interested in them or not as he might please. Patrick was marched on to Colonel Arthur's rooms. you are ready to learn it. These being his reflections. enough to show how the dear angel looks in her sleep: a trick of kindness these heavenly women have. A modern steel cuirass. similar to the finger-tips. close-linked to eternity. I've put the knife to my father's love of me. and if you link yourself to her and do as those two are doing. . You would learn it. to a gentleman unaware of the vaporous activities of his brain. it had to be confessed.' Mr. . Meanwhile he conversed. among the immortals. a young fellow of a certain practical sense. They appeared to satisfy him. and seemed. for the sake of knowledge. and her father's abstention from a mention of her. it is chiefly in a spirit of imitation. upon a review of her treatment of her lover. 'Philip. There you imagine what you will. hovers to a meeting with some one whose heart shakes your manful frame at but a thought of it. if she would expound it. Adister to say that he had worn the uniform in his day. it accounted for everything: for her absence. in sympathy with the darting couple ahead . he was compelled to shake his head at her still. and so she just half swoons. . that is. and more than sadly in certain moods of exaltation. you live what you imagine. An Adiante meets her lover another Adiante. he at once accepted a view of her that so agreeably quieted his perplexity. on our flat surface of earth. But this other Adiante is altogether a secondary conception. and dream 's no word. They traversed a banqueting-hall hung with portraits. Already Patrick had a dread of naming the daughter. love me double'. Their father talked of his two sons. Adister said.ever occurred to the youth. the sailor. and gone into a convent to wait for Philip to come and claim her?--saying. Supposing it so. nor drunken. . reprovingly. though she interested him beyond all her sisterhood above. and as he was aware that the difference of their faith had been the main cause of the division of Adiante and Philip. 'We have not much to teach you in: horseflesh.

the Austrian light cavalry's a model. and we're mixed up. and not a scrap of system that I see. if a stand was once made. Prussia's well horsed. nor 's the land . The French are studying it. and calls the rest of mankind fools because they're not the same: and so long as she can trim her ribands and have her hot toast and tea. she doesn't mind how heavy she sits: nor that 's not the point. 'I detest enthusiasm. We don't count many millions in Europe. 'You're not obliged to adore it to give it a wakener. 'But Captain Con's a bit of a politician: a poor business. Properly to speak. I call that the land for horses where the cavalry's well-mounted on a native breed. I'll see for myself. instead of a bundle squatting fat on a pile of possessions and vowing she won't budge. Adister. All the country seems armed for bullying the facts.' 'We 're held together and a trifle intermixed.'We must look alive to keep up our breed. when there's nothing to be done. well or ill. we've no light cavalry. So I'm told. if you please.' said Patrick. with his cap in the air. the country that's got hold of us.' said Patrick. Adister rejoined. He began on it as it surged up to him: 'Well. sir.' said Patrick. and when they take to studying. both of us. for the past! so long as we can set our eyes upon something to admire. I'll pay a visit to their breeding establishments. The Saxon trooper runs headlong to flesh. and shaking bayonets out of her mob-cap for a little one's cock of the eye at her: and she's all for the fleshpots.' 'A very poor business!' Mr. till the periodical panic arrives. they come to the fore.' 'You have your brother's notions of cavalry. your cousin. with a suspicion of a dram in it. 'I hear you launched at us English by the captain.' returned Mr. who has apparently yet to learn that we are one people. there. if we 're not to get loose. and for the work it's intended to do.' 'You say we. I fancy it's we with him and with me when we're talking of army or navy. 'We're breeding too fine: and soon we shan't be able to horse our troopers. and we're stronger. he'd be for the first person plural. 'Tis the beer that fattens and swells him. 'If you'd have the goodness to kindle his enthusiasm. and taking kicks from a big foot across the Atlantic. Then we sit our horses too heavy. 'tis true. and then it 's for lying flat and roaring-and we'll drop the curtain. We've no studying here. and there's no shame in submitting to force majeure. united than tearing to strips: and so. have you!' 'I leave it to Philip to boast what cavalry can do on the field. what does that mean?' Patrick cast about to reply to the formal challenge for an explanation. sir. He knows: but he knows that troopers must be mounted: and we're fineing more and more from bone: with the sales to foreigners! and the only chance of their not beating us is that they'll be so good as follow our bad example. 'Pray.

She was a Caroline. and be joined to you by more than a telegraphic cable. He forgot to think that he had possibly provoked this alienation in a scornfully proud spirit. doubtless the nether part. or an Alicia. they were to be tolerated. he classed her in the tribe of Carolines. but unobtrusive. yet not the less a part for which we are bound to exercise a specially considerate care. though he was not political and was of a mood to pity the poor gentleman's melancholy state of solitariness. or else we suffer. It's part business. not having a wide command of the undecorated plain speech which enjoyed his approval. with all his children absent.' Patrick finished his airy sketch of the Irish case in a key signifying that he might be one among the many. when.' if it amused them: so long as they were not recalcitrant. Ready. that shook leaves of recollection of the happiest of life--the sweet things dreamed undesiringly in opening youth. 'You English. though I haven't much outlook! We'd be satisfied with her for a handsome figure. We'd see the policy of an honourable union. for we are sensitive there: this is justice but the indications by fiddle-faddle verbiage of anything objectionable to the whole in the part aroused an irritability that speedily endued him with the sense of sanity opposing lunacy. Once or twice he had a twinge or suspicion of a sting from the tone of his host. It was pronounced as the termination to sheer maundering.question. We want a rousing in the heart of us.' had been hinted as an offence. Patrick talked on the uppermost topic for the remainder of their stroll. for these were names with portraits and vistas beyond. He conceded the use of it to the Irish and the Welsh as a right that stamped them for what they were by adopting it. if only she wore the right sort of face to look at. We'd like her better for a spice of devotion to alight higher up in politics and religion. to lend an air of grace and warmth to his home. and many like him. they were a part of us. he withdrew into the entrenchments of contempt. 'Stick to horses!' observed Mr. he would have bowed more cordially on his introduction to her. nor the potato crop. I think. a young lady of twenty. a Nora. an Eveleen. with a bit of brightness about it. as the tops of big mountains do: or if she were only braced and gallant. and cried. He noticed that his host occasionally allowed himself to say. 'You Irish': and he reflected that the saying. and the greater part sentiment. and as he had never taken a liking to a Caroline. Patrick heard enough to let him understand why the lord of Earlsfont and Captain Con were not on the best of terms. That's Captain Con. A Caroline awakened . to show an idea inside striking alight from the day that's not yet nodding at us. his wife dead. only a niece. Adister. I don't know whether we wouldn't be satisfied with her for politeness in her manners. The language of metaphor was to Mr. Adister fool's froth. or a Bessy. and behold her more respectfully. and they might look on a country as a 'she. or else we'd be pleased with her for sitting so as not to overlap us entirely: we'd feel more at home. But the key of the difficulty's a sparkle of enthusiasm. To a Kathleen.

And she had a pleasant face: he was able to see that. to which what the world calls curiosity is frozenly akin. when he retired to his room. and some individuality in the look of it. 'one could strive to imitate without embracing her faith. she informed him. and then he remembered the niceness of her manners. Disappointment is a poor term for the descent from an immoderate height. no mysterious heaven and earth. She was the Miss Adister. Mr. 'Oh. There was but one Miss Adister for Patrick. 'The Faith of my fathers! and any pattern you like for my conduct. and how. Patrick pursued his double task of hunting his thousand speculations and conversing fluently. and wasn't for proselytisms. their features wooed the dream. of course. They had not moved his heart. 'He has had cause for great unhappiness.' She sighed. 'Madame Dugue is a Catholic of Catholics.' said Caroline. and he seemed to end by a sort of approval. through his veins. A lacquey. and why? No one else accompanied them on their march to the dinner-table. as they sauntered together on the terrace. led it on as the wooded glen leads the eye till we are deep in richness. though we must continue sensible of a shock. he was raised to anticipate the possible beholding of her. Adister had spoken of his niece Caroline.' 'Is it the colonel. I mean.' 'Save for the grand example!' 'That. Nor would he have throbbed had one of any of his favourite names appeared in the place of Caroline Adister.' Patrick spoke as he thought. or the captain? Forgive me!' . 'A Protestant. his extreme sensitiveness on that subject. if it's a good one. mentioned Miss Adister. An Eveleen had carried him farthest to imagine the splendours of an Adiante. The others had variously tinted skies above them. receiving orders from his master.' said he. and Caroline's entrance into the drawing-room brought him to the ground. the next morning.' Caroline hesitated before she said: 'You have noticed my Uncle Adister's prepossession. He supposed her to have been educated where the interfusion of a natural liveliness with a veiling retenue gives the title of lady.' 'That I'll believe. so that it is not astonishing if.' 'He blazed on me.no soft association of fancies. She had enjoyed the advantage of having an estimable French lady for her governess. Against reason. they had only stirred the sources of wonder. but the acknowledgment that we have shot up irrationally reconciles even unphilosophical youth to the necessity of the fall. and the announcement of the coming of an Eveleen would perchance have sped a little wild fire. no: she was faithful to her trust.' 'There's my mind clear as print!' Patrick exclaimed. the impression made on him by this young Caroline was inefficient to distinguish her from the horde of her baptismal sisters. and the most honourable of women.

' cried Patrick. though it's in the dark. He stepped out of the library window as they were passing. It is my belief that Camminy has taken a partner that he may act the independent gentleman at his leisure. I might as well deposit my family history in the hands of a club. And now. They had a perverse effect. 'And never is at home! never was known to be at home when wanted!' he said. and they've Irish blood in the service there. I guessed it. His partner is always visible. Adister paid a fruitless call on his lawyer. I could drop on my knees to you!' The declaration was fortunately hushed by a supplicating ardour. Camminy will probably appear at the dinner hour. and by and by there will be. She's on the Continent and has been a long time. it acts like an instinct. Miss Caroline. grieved at their having bad news. Caroline murmured some soothing words.' was his answer. his partner is at home. and won't let me be running blindfold. to be off. It's anywhere she may be in a ring. I fancy. a third partner. if you'll be so good. Adister would have looked more surprised than his niece. I suppose. held up an opened letter for Caroline's perusal. But you know the clear address. but I do not communicate upon personal business with his partner. or the country--where she is. and. 'Is it she? Is it his daughter? I must ask!' 'You have not heard?' Oh! then. and there's nothing like that for sending you straight. I. which is a Catholic country. must continue to be the mark for these letters. let me beg. or Mr. where Mr. only show me the ring. 'You will consider that one enough for the day. or they had. with a flash of pride in his arrowy sagacity. Patrick descended the terrace and strolled by the waterside.' said Caroline. 'Claret attracts him: I wish I could say as much of duty. springing back to the saddle. evidently with a mind occupied by his own affairs. and vexed with himself for being a stranger. meantime. She took a view of the handwriting. and it was the capital of Austria. to see her. because I love my brother. Half an hour later they were all three riding to the market-town.Her head shook. or the city. . 'Any others?' she said. I'm anxious to speak to her. can you tell me?--just whereabouts! You're surprised: but I want her address. for I've a load.' rejoined her uncle. it's just the address. 'His partner! yes. I shall expect soon to hear myself abused as the positive cause of the loss of a Crown!' 'Mr. but I thought it out for myself. 'Not a word have I heard. I'll find her. unable to console them.

Down to the sale of her hereditary jewels! I profess no astonishment. He took a peep through fancy's keyhole. and was much of a knave: and particularly Patrick would have liked to be informed of the fellow's religion. Adister had said. for he might perchance be unjust to the blessedest heroine on the surface of the earth--a truly awful thought! Yet her name would no longer bear the speaking of it to himself. and toss them to the wind. if Crydney and Welvas are to go. and a little piano-music and a song closed an evening that was not dull to Patrick in spite of prolonged silences. . I have now received three letters bearing on this matter within as many months. !' Caroline put her horse to a canter. After a turbulent night with Schinderhannes. Who was Schinderhannes? Mr. leaving Patrick to shuffle them together and read the riddle they presented. He attributed to his desire for . And there was a barrel of powder to lay a fiery head on. tempting though the occasion was for him to throw in a conversational word or two. and the exclamations ended. who let him go no earlier than the opening of a December day. Mr. It was not possible. her Schinderhannes. and whether he had a title. Adister burst out again: 'And why not come over here to settle this transaction herself?--provided that I am spared the presence of her Schinderhannes! She could very well come. He dreaded a single step in the wrong direction. Disrooted body and soul! --for a moonshine title!--a gaming-table foreign knave!--Known for a knave!--A young gentlewoman?--a wild Welsh . and delighted himself to think that he had seen nothing. and therefore forbore to hang on any of his conjectures. . Patrick merely wished to be informed who the man was. And what did he know? His brother Philip's fair angel forbade him to open the door upon what he knew. It conjured up a smoky moon under confounding eclipse. Patrick hied away to one of the dusky nooks by the lake for a bracing plunge.Patrick managed to restrain a bubbling remark on the respective charms of claret and duty. CHAPTER IV THE PRINCESS Dinner. But asking was not easy. for a pillow! To confess that he had not the courage to inquire was as good as an acknowledgment that he knew too much for an innocent questioner. that they might be blown back on him by the powers of air in an intelligible form. The quiet course of things within the house appeared to him to have a listening ear for big events outside. The jewels may well go too. He was rewarded for listening devoutly.

and he stood in far better trim to meet his redoubtable adversary of overnight. in answer to Mr. his craving to get an idea ceased with it absolutely. singularly lean.' Caroline's needle-thrust was provoked: 'Would not Arctic weather deter you. 'But a gallop. remarking that he was a prisoner indeed. his vision had gone.' said Caroline.' he had to say. but the rascal was a bandit and had robbed him of his purse. acrid enough to win the applause of cynics. We must perforce be critics of these tear-away wits. we have only to jump out of our clothes to feel the reality of things in a trice. Mr. and Patrick 'would like to hear of the temptation that could keep him from his morning swim. 'As for entertainment. and her eyes filled with the sparkle. Adister's courteous regrets that he would have to be a prisoner in the house until his legal adviser thought proper to appear. his gross exaggerations upon them had not been the triumph of absurdity she supposed herself to have evoked. and had it been the bottle instead of Caroline's coffee-cup. to anticipate his critic's remark on the absence of horses. but not the less inveterate.' 'Then I was in the presence of a connoisseur last night. in winter at least. with the enemy close all round. It 's amusing to be shot at too. by a lady who 's a good marksman! And birds and hares are always willing to wait for us. convinced him that. with a bow. Adister complimented him on the robustness of his habits. of course. I forgot to say that I can sing. for excess of whatsoever you may offer him. Patrick would soon have received a priming for a delivery of views upon the sex. Patrick discerned the intention and aided her. so threadbare to conceal the character! Caroline led him to vaunt his riding and his shooting. is eager for meat. after an Arctic bath.' he pursued. A youth despoiled of his Vision and made sensible by the activity of his physical state that he is a common machine. 'Short of Arctic. and the fools known as lovers. he felt himself poor and empty and rejoicing in the keenness of his hunger for breakfast. O'Donnell?' He hummed. he could say that his prescription was good for him.' he said. that was a positive fact. Mr. accepting the mental alertness he fastened on her. Adister consulted his watch and the mantelpiece clock for a minute of difference between them. and for . moreover. The dip was sharpening. Boasting was the best relief that a young man not without modesty could find. It is the finest school for the cure of dreamers. 'I'll be perfectly happy if Miss Caroline will give me as much of her company as she can spare. he is on the highroad of recklessness. and a certain time passed before she perceived that though he responded naturally to her first sly attacks. Her wish was to divert her uncle. laughing. She smiled. Mr. two minutes of stout watery battle. and his incapacity to get an idea out of anything he looked on: he had not a sensation of cold till the stinging element gripped him.it the strange deadness of the atmosphere. which are. they keep better alive. and upon love. would soon spin the blood-upon an Esquimaux dog.

you have lost no time this morning. like our physicians. I am detained here by a man who seems to think my business of less importance than his pleasures. 'Mr. when I abhor the business. O'Donnell would not be unwilling to begin the day with some duets?' Patrick eagerly put on his shame-face to accept her invitation. I'm one with the pigs for truffles. Adister carried on the broken sentence. 'Our lawyers have us inside out. so I 'll pay court again to that gamepie. he knew his client's eye. 'Surgery's a little in their practice too. Mr.' He was hungry. taking the chair placed for him. 'Ah: foreign? domestic?' .' said Patrick.the whole day. it is very much the reverse but I am compelled to undertake it as my own.' said he. Adister resumed. Camminy assented: 'No doubt. Where estates are not entailed!' 'The expectations of the family are undisciplined and certain not to be satisfied. 'No. It is hard for me to speak of it. Miss Adister. talking to blunt his impatience for a private discussion with his own. 'There is the library. and followed his example. So they were still at table when Mr. Camminy was announced and ushered in.' he said. so. And it is not my business.' Mr. the best books on agriculture will be found there. unless Camminy should decide to come.' 'Perhaps. and how to thaw it.' was the answer. if you would like to explore the country. Patrick O'Donnell.' Mr. I have not breakfasted. Robust habits and heartiness were signs with him of a conscience at peace.--Mr.' he said. The man of law murmured an excuse or two.' Caroline interposed hurriedly. having luminous extension. engaged in assisting to settle the succession. Camminy bowed busily somewhere in the direction between Patrick and the sideboard. 'I was all day yesterday at Windlemont. 'That house will fall! However. protesting that his boldness was entirely due to his delight in music. and enjoyed the look of the table. 'But I've heard.' His host thanked him for spreading the contagion of good appetite. You can make your choice in the stables.' Mr. much more to act a part in it. he ventured to say: 'I thought it might be urgent.' 'It is urgent. but the look of his client chilled the prospect. we think in Ireland. 'if you care for books. considered in its genial appearance as a feast of stages. to ease his client's mind. 'that the best fortification for the exercise of the a voice is hearty eating. and he thought the Jesuits particularly forbearing in the amount of harm they had done to this young man.

Camminy had seen another Miss Adister duetting with a young Irishman and an O'Donnell. as Caroline came away from pressing her lips to her uncle's forehead. to hint of his being fanatico per la musica. Camminy and groaned to see him fill his plate. and swine that fight for acorns. Mr.' Mr.A frown replied. CHIEFLY WITHOUT MUSIC Barely had the door shut behind them when Patrick let his heart out: 'The princess?' He had a famished look. to judge by this ham. Camminy asked in the voice of discretion. 'It concerns her Highness?' 'It concerns my daughter and her inheritance from her mad grandmother!' Mr. that she might escape the dreaded outburst. 'They did that in our mountains a couple of thousand years ago. like one musing. She tried to start a topic with Patrick. Mr.' Patrick hummed a bar or two of an air. I hope?' Mr. and the pair rose together.' said Mr. Adister rejoined loudly. I can finish breakfast at my leisure.' Patrick joined in softly. with lamentable results to that union of voices. and I'm bounden to you for not forcing me to detain you. she lent him her ear. and he continued like a retreating thunder: 'A princess with a title as empty as a skull! At best a princess of swamps. as if carrying on a song.' said she. that she might get some understanding of his excitement. 'I may discover that I am about to receive one. They quitted the room together. Men must fight: the law is only a quieter field for them. 'Have at us. which is never particularly interesting to ladies-though. and talk of business. Yes. and Caroline glided along swiftly with her head bent. pressed another cup of tea on Mr. Caroline. O'Donnell! I'm ashamed of my appetite. . Camminy turned to her uncle. 'If you'll deign to give me a lesson. and men that fight for swine!' Patrick caught a glance from Caroline. Miss Adister. his tone alarmed her. and he permitted himself to be a little astonished at his respected client's defective memory or indifference to the admonition of identical circumstances. 'I know Miss Adister has a head for it. in haste to have her duties over. as a pretext for their departure. 'The princess is well.' 'And a fatter for the ravens.' said he. 'and the cause was not so bad. Camminy. but the morning's drive must be my excuse. CHAPTER V AT THE PIANO.

Our people wrote to me of her.' Patrick stopped: the idea demanded a scrutiny. and none of the joys of martyrdom. 'Here's the worst I ever imagined of her!--thousands of miles and pits of sulphur beyond the worst and the very worst! I thought her fickle. rather a black fairy. for she was one of the forty-nine Danaides who killed their husbands for the sake of their father and was not likely to be the fiftieth. asking it of himself. But wasn't she rather one for flinging spells than melting? Except that we're all of us hit at last. up in everything. it's over. I thought her heartless. and she couldn't wait for him. then deeply beseeching asked: . or his title. So that was my brother Philip's luck! She's married! It's done. and against her father. It was for her father's sake she as good as killed her lover. and when they broke. 'I thought you were aware of my cousin's marriage. bare. who's a scholar. 'No: I fought it. like death: no hope.--a stone? And I put it to my best friend there. She gives him her soul! No praise to her for that: but mercy! what a love it must be.' he said. extinguished --there she is. But she loved Philip: she loved him down to shipwreck and drowning: she gave battle for him. you're speaking of Adiante?' 'My cousin Adiante. not quite among the stars of heaven. 'She's another person for me. all the place here and the country's alive with their meetings and partings:--she can't have married! She wouldn't change her religion for her lover: how can she have done it for this prince? Why. lump-of-earth-fact:--and that's the only thing to tell me I'm not dreaming now. it's against her faith. to change her religion. And this time it's against her father. perched above us. before the faggots! and that's what she has married!--a burning torment. from her casting him off--true to her name! thought I. and the two Adiantes are like enough: they're as like as a pair of hands with daggers. She's married! She's married to one of their princes!--married for a title!--and changed her religion! And Miss Adister. and there's his heart broken. Or else it's a spell. and a bad history too. but he was all in his hungry interrogation. I had my ideas. And I ready to glorify her for a saint! And now she must have loved the man. and he said it was a name with a pretty sound and an ill meaning--far from tender. Oh! I'm not awake. But I never dreamed of such a thing as this--not the hard. Father Clement. or nothing like a woman.' 'Was I?' said Patrick.suddenly as it seemed to have come on him. I did. But never that she was a creature to jump herself down into a gulf and be lost for ever. and generally by our own weapon. and it's a name to set you thinking: Is she tender. considering the name she bore.' He subsided again. There's the end of Philip! I could have prophesied it. under the penitent's hoodcap with eyeholes. she saw it on tiptoe straining for her answer.' 'Well did I hate the name! I heard it first over in France. She cast him off. I wouldn't have a blot on her be suspected. and as she reached her piano and raised the lid. She's gone. for his conscience would not acknowledge an absolute ignorance. it's to swear false oaths!-unless it's possible for a woman to slip out of herself and be another person after a death like that of a love like hers.

amounting to a vivification--of his brother's passion. Yes. He seemed quite naturally to impersonate Philip. I like them. but Patrick's face had brightened out of a gloom of stupefaction. Miss Adister? Is there one anywhere?' Caroline stood at her piano. He said. Miss Adister?' 'He is not young. and Ireland also. 'I 'm more at home with French people. they're amiable. Caroline shook her head.'Have you by chance a portrait of the gentleman. 'And becoming a Frenchman?'said Caroline. they're mostly of my creed. as I suppose I shall be some day. 'Is there no telling what he is like.' 'May I beg to know. a little at his expense as a citizen of the polite world. Ireland was chargeable with that.' 'And it's one family where the dog is pulled by the collar. in the coolness of her alien blood.' She spoke reproachfully: 'Have you no pride in the title of Englishman?' 'I 'm an Irishman. She complimented him. as it were. with an emphasis on the French. 'Why not?' said he. showing himself at least a good reader of music. whether he was a character. with a pressure on her eyelids. he assured her he was now ready to try his voice with hers. and she wished to defend her cousin from the charge of contracting such an alliance. he fancied he did best in French. She replied: 'We have no portrait. As to the unwontedness of the scene. She was near upon being thrilled in spite of an astonishment almost petrifying: and she could nearly have smiled. the box.' 'An old man!' She had not said that. he sang pleasantly. On the whole. have you seen him?' said Patrick. I shan't have the bother over there that I should find here.' There was a retort on him: she saw. too. and he had an idea of settling in France. particularly French songs. turning over the leaves of a music-book. or merely an Irish character. relieved him of the extreme ridicule attached to his phrases and images. if he found that he could not live quietly in his own country. but the lid . yes. though they weren't quite kind to poor Lally Tollendal.' 'We are one nation. she asked him. he felt it slightly in his throat: and could he. only she was to excuse a touch of hoarseness. I love France. and when I'm called upon to fix myself. She wondered. so strange was his fraternal adoption. wonder at it after his morning's bath? He vindicated the saneness of the bath as well as he was able.

He bowed to her departing.would not open to assist her to it.' said Patrick. even if sometimes his volubility exposed him to attack. Besides. and she forced herself to say: 'Captain O'Donnell talks in that manner.' 'Captain Con is constitutionally discontented because he's a bard by nature. Miss Adister: or else it's his pennon that was. that to choose to be likened to the unwilling dog of the family was evidence of a want of saving pride. She had too many distressing matters to think of for so singular a young man to have any other place than that which is given to the fantastical in a troubled and serious mind. We've watered many lands. after the scrupulous dubitation between the banner and the pennon of the Cid! It would have comforted her to laugh. It is. Bull. and without any reason for them in her heart. that there would be more to come about Adiante. because her lord is not off in heroics enough to please her. but the Captain's temper is to praise and exalt. He added: 'Old Philip!' in a visible throb of pity for his brother. and to understand whether she listened to humour or emotion: she reposed herself as well as she could in the contemplation of an electrically-flashing maze. And there's a quantity of our blood in Spain too. and won't let her be mistress of her own household. Such a position brings the hesitancy which says that the sitting is at an end. And you mayn't believe it. she could not trust to the glibness of her tongue in a contest with a young gentleman to whom talking was as easy as breathing. and strolled off by himself. A superior position was offered her by her being silent and critical. What would be his opinion of . She stationed herself on it: still she was grieved to think of him as a renegade from his country. and she let it go by. where every line ran losing itself in another. and he'd be perfectly happy marching. She was closer upon tears. 'He has a notion of Erin as the unwilling bride of Mr. thinking in her patriotic derision. The banner of the Cid was green. She feared. a perversion: that's our view of him at home. but he spared her. He danced there like the whimsy sunbeam of a shaken water below.' The poor young English lady's brain started wildly on the effort to be with him. CHAPTER VI A CONSULTATION: WITH OPINIONS UPON WELSHWOMEN AND THE CAMBRIAN RACE Later in the day she heard that he was out scouring the country on one of her uncle's horses. and without the right theme for his harp. of course. All he desires is to have us on the march. and she can't forget that he once had the bad trick of beating her: she sees the marks. never mind the banner. as she laid aside her music-books. though a bit of green in it would put him in tune. and neglects her. Irony in him is only eulogy standing on its head: a sort of an upside down.

Mr. his girl would soon discover that there was no better place to come to than her home. another Welsh woman. making almost a man of her. and induce him to acquiesce in his legal adviser's view which was. if not the solemn obligation. and an unshackled man. They had . and she lent him in fancy her own bewilderment and grief at her cousin's conduct. for the soothing that his exaggeration of them afforded her. and it was not for him to hold out. that she might furnish arms to her husband to carry out an audacious enterprise likely to involve both of them in blood and ruin? Would he not bound up aloft and quiver still more wildly? She respected. She read it with composure. were destined to worry him up to the end of his days. A devilish malignity bequeathed them: let them go back to their infernal origin. owing no dues to posterity. Mr. and he that the naturally lighter scale should continue to kick the beam. and the husband a gambler and a knave. particularly Welsh women. would see the prudence. and alone. The Welsh grandmother's legacy of her estates to his girl. but also. Here she would have leisure to repent of all the steps she had taken since that fatal one of the acceptance of the invitation to the Embassy at Vienna. present an array of obstacles. She marvelled at his opposition. though she detected the principal basis of it. The business of the hour demanded more of her than a seeking for refreshment. The money wasted. and who certainly would not have dreamed of contracting the abhorred alliance had she been breathing the air of common sense peculiar to her native land. Between himself and Mrs. where her father's influence with her would have a chance of being established again. as the last and heaviest of the long and open feud between them. Their women were a composition of wind and fire. overlooking her brothers. to temporise further. It became her task to pay no heed to his loss of patience. that it outraged and did permanent injury to his ideas of the proper balance of the sexes. who had never when under sharp temptation acted disobediently to his wishes at home. with the weathervane head of her race. of retaining to herself these family possessions. his imaginative heat of feeling for Adiante sufficiently to associate him with her so far. quaint though it was. our Ambassadress there.Adiante if he knew of her determination to sell the two fair estates she inherited from a grandmother whom she had venerated. She had been invited to join the consultation of her uncle with his lawyer. Adister had no ground of opposition but his own intemperateness. and it might then be hoped that she. and by all possible suggestions induce the princess to come over to England. Behold now the consequence of the wilful Welshwoman's insanest of legacies! The estates were left to Adiante Adister for her sole use and benefit. and without much prospect of the intrusion of her infamous Hook-nose in pursuit of her at Earlsfont. Winnion Rhys the condition of the balance had been a point of vehement disputation. and not simply because of the blow he received in it unexpectedly from that old lady. And when they were gone. She could almost hear his outcry. had excessively vexed him. Those estates in the hands of a woman are in the hands of her husband. they are in the hands of the Jews --or gone to smoke. Mr. she insisting to have it finer up to equality. of that morning's delivery. It appeared to be written that the Welsh. chiefly. Adister had warned her both against her going and against the influence of her friend Lady Wenchester. But the girl would accept. she would come without an asking. despite the strong feeling he entertained for Adiante. the wife would be at peace. Let them go. Adister tossed her another letter from Vienna. Colonel Arthur and Captain David. Caroline was urgent with her uncle to act on such good counsel.

They taste a wound from the lightest touch. and a certain month. It's true that I love wild Wales. and though I have never had to complain of her yet. and generalised again to preserve his dignity: 'They're aflame in an instant. with more than the common allowance of kibes for treading on: a severe misfortune for them. He closed it tight and smote the table. 'The fact is. You dropped the spark. and just as little did you know how you displeased them. and attendant circumstances to swear loud witness to it. unless you had them fast by their spinning fancy. Possibly you may in their presence have had occasion to praise the military virtues of the builder of Carnarvon Castle. 'Like mother--and grandmother too--like daughter!' he said. Or you have incidentally compared Welsh mutton with Southdown:--you have not highly esteemed their drunken Bards:--you have asked what the Welsh have done in the world. And you were long hence to be taught that in a certain past year. and on a certain day of the month. Camminy: 'You are sure you can give us the day?' 'All of it. nothing solid in their whole nature. they are hospitable to teach the Arab a lesson: I do believe their life is their . They are born. and you discover years after that they have chosen to foist on you their idea of your idea at the moment. for their treachery and your punishment! O those Welshwomen! The much-suffering lord of Earlsfont stretched forth his open hand. Now for their merits: they have poetry in them. you are supposed to have slighted some person of their family--a tenth cousin!--anything turns their blood. Miss Adister. The pangs we cause them. I married a lady from over the borders. Adister described the Cambrian ladies as a kind of daughters of the Fata Morgana. for a testifying instrument to the plain truth of his catalogue of charges. 'You will pardon me. They find it difficult to forgive. and trifles offend. must be horrible. Mr. was the word for them. You may see them quiet for years. Welsh blood is queer blood. they are valiant. and they are unhappily just as secretive as they are sensitive. only half human. And you receive your blow: you are sure to get it: the one passion of those women is for vengeance. and they time the explosion. The lawyer cracked his back to bow to the great gentleman so magnanimously humiliating himself.' he replied. Irishwomen were models of propriety beside them: indeed Irishwomen might often be patterns to their English sisterhood. and they nurse the venom for you. and they have the astounding presumption to account this misreading of your look to the extent of a full justification. not forgetting the hour of the day to the minute of the hour. she may have a finale in store. Mad. Englishmen allied to them had to learn that they were dealing with broomstick witches and irresponsible sprites. You are by and by pierced for it as hard as they can thrust. I own. but it smoulders. Adister. 'Yes. and deceptive down to treachery. Camminy. Or you have once looked straight at them without speaking. you had mortally offended them.no reason. apologising for some show of restlessness.' said Mr. They called it being romantic. it would seem. without our knowing it. palm upward.' Caroline said to Mr. It was the ante-chamber of madness. You pleased them you knew not how.' 'And so do I' Caroline raised her eyes to imagined mountains. 'Sir! Sir!' he said. nothing short of righteous.

The Princess Nikolas. to correct his indiscretion. I had no voice in Adiante. There's an Arabian tale. It was to have been Adiante Arianrod. And. worth now in current value sixpence halfpenny as a curiosity. 'Hold back that name in this house. I remember. and can come down on them with a quotation from Catwg the Wise: but it so chanced that I trod on a kibe. to satisfy her pleasure in a fine sound. And I must admit that their best friend can too easily offend them. 'Nikolas!' Mr. Well. At least I saved the girl from the addition of Arianrod.friend's at need--seriously. Instead of penillions and englyns. yet I respect the remains of their literature.' had murmured Caroline. with graphic touches upon the quality of the reputation he bore at the courts and in the gambling-saloons of Europe. that they'll keep against their own desire to heap on you everything they have--if they love you. and I had to pay the penalty. Adister in the person of his foreign son-in-law. excepting the three-stringed harp of three generations back. title and all. 'You know what he is like?' said Mr. Camminy gave an emphatic and short affirmative. and the poor traveller suffered for it. I have never understood why. by the way. and it's war. Prince Nikolas had been described to him before. If you stir their hearts you find it so. Cambrians! They have forgiven the Romans. and she must be known by the one her feather-brained grandmother proposed for her. Some of them are hurt if you call them Welsh. Camminy assured him that the description of the prince's lineaments . I enjoy the Triads. I attend their gatherings and subscribe the expenses. and Adiante let her be. and you at the same time have struck their imaginations. She had a voice in David. Mr. we should hear of it at times even now. I recollect. they would lay it down for him: or the wherewithal. They have a ready comprehension for great thoughts. if you speak of my daughter. Saxon and Norman are still their enemies. I refuse admission to it here. or three farthings for firewood. No. if King Edward had not trampled them into the mire so thoroughly. I have lost excellent clients. but I stood at my girl's baptism. Dreading lest his client's angry heat should precipitate him on the prince again. their money. She has given up my name. there would be days for fiery triplets. Offend them. Say the worst of them. I study their language. their property. which hit an invisible son of a genie in the eye. They scout it as the original Saxon title for them. I consume Welsh mutton with relish. Mr. She was too late. Adister thundered. Adister. had a special fondness for the words of Catwg the Wise. they are soundheaded. with a face of disgust reflected from the bare thought of the hideous likeness. with very little profit to either of the boys. of a peaceful traveller who ate a date in the desert and flung away the stone. they are Cymry. English Christian names are my preference. to the confusion of a lady's ears.' 'Adiante. however. declared or covert. you commit these mortal injuries to the invisible among the Welsh. Can you credit it? Prince-pah! Nikolas? Have you a notion of the sort of prince that makes an English lady of the best blood of England his princess?' The lawyer had a precise notion of the sort of prince appearing to Mr. Miss Adister. I conceded Arthur to her without difficulty.

alluringly foul as it was: while they in concert drew him back to the discussion of his daughter's business. That Mr.' said Mr. he managed to check the famous delineation of the adventurer prince in which a not very worthy gentleman's chronic fever of abomination made him really eloquent. that by coming to England she can settle the business according to her wishes in one quarter of the time it would take a Commission sent out to her--if we should be authorised to send out one. Adister. There are situations which pass beyond the lightly stirred perceptive wits to the quiet court of the intellect. 'she tells me to-day she is not in a state to travel! Do you hear? Make what you can of it. whereon he by fits compared his own . and the contrast is between our utter wrath and her simple exposition of the circumstances and consequences forming her laws. Camminy. 'Let her be informed. notwithstanding her inattention to your remonstrances. I fancy I perceive your daughter's disposition to consider your feelings: possibly to a reluctance to do the deed unsanctioned by her father. transmitted by the princess. descending upon a subject hateful. But the cause had been sufficiently hinted to set the lawyer staring as men do when they encounter situations of grisly humour. We know not of what substance to name them. sir. as he was aware. It was. Assisted by Caroline. He could not speak the shame he felt: it was literally in his flesh. to be received there as an addition to our acquaintance with mankind. Caroline slipped away to mark a conclusion to the debate. giving it the enigmatical faint wry pull at a corner visible at times upon the dreadful mask. quick to unburden himself in the teeth of decorum. reiterating prudent counsel. I shall be having more of these letters.' The reply was: 'Dine here and sleep here. 'And my son-in-law! My son-in-law!' ejaculated Mr. It would appear so to a cool observer.would not be new. Humour in its intense strain has a seat somewhere about the mouth of tragedy. with a knowledge that they had only to wait for the ebbing of his temper.' The proud and injured gentleman had the aspect of one who receives a blow that it is impossible for him to resent. 'Besides. profoundly sighing. derived from a miniature of her husband. and so he stimulated his amazement and abhorrence of the portrait he rather wondered at them for not desiring to have sketched for their execration of it.' he spoke in a husky voice. after a year of her marriage: and that he should take it for a further outrage of his paternal sentiments. tossing his head higher. should actually redden and be hoarse in alluding to it: the revelation of such points in our human character set the humane old lawyer staring at the reserve space within himself apart from his legal being. on its flight out of her father's loathing hand to the hearthstone and under his heel. Adister added. and Mr. where certain of the passions of man's developed nature are seen armed and furious against our mild prevailing ancient mother nature. Camminy saw his client redden fast and frown.' Mr. Adister should be astonished at such a communication from the princess. 'By committing the business to you.

it is like a touch on a musical instrument. 'Anything you may be wanting at home shall be sent for. and his look requesting enlightenment told her she might speak. if drawn to it to fondle it. the desperado-rascal would never be called by him. and spoke upon another conception of them: 'How has he shown his feelings?' Caroline answered quickly: 'His love of his brother.' 'The youngster is used to south-western showers in that climate of his. numbering the beast twice among them.constitution with that of the individuals revealed to him by their acts and confidential utterances. His cousin Con O'Donnell has filled him with stuff about Ireland and England: the man has no better to do than to train a parrot. Still the marriage was but Adiante's gulf: he might be called father-in-law of her spangled ruffian.' he said briskly. for he could not deny his daughter in the father's child. cleaving. Perhaps I should say a native one. 'He is not quite like what I remember of his brother Philip. For a young man educated by the Jesuits. and only partially at rest when he discovered Caroline in one. in his love for his daughter. it was not so cheering a piece of intelligence that involved him yet closer with that man's rank blood: it curdled his own. my love?' The judgement was not easily formed for expression. There's the seed. uncle? He is out riding. as Mr. he decided that he would have rejoiced at the news. you must try to amuse yourself. and his girl gave birth to a son! darkness rolled upon that avenue of vision. Adister unforcedly considered him. He asked where the young Irishman was. The subtlety of his hatred so reckoned it. He is very strange. a goodly tree and withering many flowers. And if neither of his boys married. looking into several rooms.' He wandered about the house. If ever he saw the child. Adister replied. Adister addressed his troubled soul. I may join you in the afternoon. however. does he not? He seems more Irish than his brother. The marriage had shocked and stricken him. But the result of the marriage dragged him bodily into the gulf: he became one of four. . Granting the prince a monster. Anything that concerns his brother moves him. he has not an idea of concealing them. His feelings are strong. 'I dare say we could find the Jesuit in him somewhere. He talks much more. You will find occupation for your gun in the north covers. You can take one of the keepers for an hour or two of shooting. 'You like him.' 'Concerns his brother?' Mr. son-in-law. he is remarkably open. they tell me. he could not exclude its unhallowed father in the mother's: and of this man's child he must know and own himself the grandfather.' 'The Jesuits might be of service to me just now!' Mr. I must have you here to make sure that I am acting under good advice. Adister inquired. 'Are you in search of him?' said she. some part of the little animal not his daughter's would partake of his embrace. engaged upon some of her aquarelle sketches. A trespasser and usurper-one of the demon's brood chased his very name out of Earlsfont! 'Camminy. What do you think of him. For him.' Mr.

Her father could not. Her uncle mused awhile in a half-somnolent gloom. For none. everlastingly coupled in the mind by their opposition of characters and aspects.' Mr. abjuring her Church for a little fouler than hangman to me and every gentleman alive. I desire that he should see it. I could not exaggerate. I will order it to be placed in the armoury. she says! Show it him when he returns. heavily plunged in the matter of his chagrin and grief: his unhealed wound had been scraped and strewn with salt by his daughter's letter. which neither his niece nor his lawyer had done: they never did when he painted the prince. Let him see the miniature of her this day. very strange. He gathered it from what he had heard.' 'Show him her portrait. He craved the relief it would be to him to lay his colours on the prince for the sparkling amazement of one whom. . lost to England and to her father and to common respect. he is extraordinary.'Adiante.' Her uncle's attentiveness incited her to describe the scene. It was impossible to help being a little touched. Adister resolved at the same time that Patrick should have his portrait of the prince for a set-off to the face of his daughter. 'No. He was unstrung. they were like heaven and its reverse. and he judged of others by himself. though it was curious. according to Caroline's description. let him see the woman who could throw herself away on that branded villain called a prince. He had not heard before of her marriage. Adister abruptly. He had been all but utterly solitary since her marriage. he had a thirst for the kind of sympathy he supposed he would find in the young Irishman's horror at the husband of the incomparable beauty now past redemption degraded by her hideous choice. having once had the picture of the man. at the piano. could dissociate them. he could expect to feel with him acutely. too proud to speak of the thing in sadness. you have her miniature in your keeping.' she said softly. 'He talks of this at this present day?' 'It is not dead to him. I was a witness of the most singular scene this morning. Their stupefaction . 'Shall I?' She had a dim momentary thought that the sight of the beautiful face would not be good for Patrick. And to-morrow take him to look at the full-length of her before she left England and ceased to be a lady of our country. He really appears to have hoped . brooded on it until it saturated him. or claim condolence for this wound inflicted on him by the daughter he had idolised other than through the indirect method of causing people to wonder at her chosen yoke-fellow. Submission to the demands of her husband's policy required it of her. and as it visibly relieved his melancholy. She coloured. .' A shade of surprise was on Caroline's forehead. She concluded: 'At last he begged to see a portrait of her husband. only of her husband. she did it with a few vivid indications of the quaint young Irishman's manner of speech.' 'Not of her?' said Mr. 'Yes. He was overwhelmed by it.

Yet he was a gentleman capable of apprehending simultaneously that he sinned against his pride in the means he adopted to comfort his nature. Proud as he was. the butler at Earlsfont was a wary supervisor of his man. O'Donnell the miniature of Adiante. and still more fortunately the urgency for a rapid execution of the manoeuvre prevented his noticing a large square envelope posted against the looking-glass of his toilette-table. or more. she tried to guess at Mr. could behold this lighted face. These were her flitting thoughts under the spell of her queenly cousin's visage. and not admire. muttering: 'Her husband's policy!' She was used to his interjections. though he would have expended some of them. He had things to tell. . not the most illustrious. he could not contain. in the eyes. CHAPTER VII THE MINIATURE Patrick returned to Earlsfont very late. he had not been out over the country for nothing. voluntarily in the hands of a monster! 'Husband!' Mr. Adiante. he had only to spring out of one suit into another. he was not stronger than his malady. she sat thinking more of the strange request to her to show Mr. and he could disguise. and under his name. like a morning of chivalrous promise. Fortunately for his good social principles. in smaller letters. she had with her glorious beauty and great-heartedness been the sole object which had ever inspirited his imagination. Adiante had been to him something beyond a creature beloved. But the wound was a perpetual sickness needing soul-medicine. though not by any consecutive process of reasoning. His name was on the envelope. worthy of her. Patrick's linen was prepared for him properly studded. It appeared so to her now. in spite of his punctilious respect for the bell of the house entertaining him. to think that the feat of grooming himself. washing. O'Donnell's thoughts when doing the same. and unbending. the cry of immoderate grief. woman or man. Adister broke away from Caroline. He caught sight of it first when pulling down his shirt-cuffs with an air of recovered ease. and waited to hand it to young Mr. She went to fetch the miniature. a short allowance after a heated ride across miry tracks. with the dark raised eyes and abounding auburn tresses. and the energy of radiance. And there she was. not to say genial triumph. He could have thought no man. if Miss Adister had been anywhere on the stairs or corridors as he rushed away to his room.refreshed him. She had often thought that her uncle regretted his rejection of Philip. unless one might hope that the light above beauty distinguishing its noble classic lines. dressing and stripping. O'Donnell. or wholly worship? She pitied the youth: she fancied that he would not continue so ingenuously true to his brother's love of Adiante after seeing it. and gazing on it. the accustomed persuasive final sweep of the brush to his hair-crop. he had but ten minutes to dress for dinner. would subdue him to distant admiration. where the contrast of colours was in itself thrilling. She shut up the miniature-case. half worship. was done before the bell had rung. great guest or little guest. for who so inflammable as he? And who.

The elixir in Patrick carried him higher than mountain crests. when the fountain of her in the miniature would be seen and drunk of at his full leisure. miraculous.'Shall I?' said he. a flying earth and a world wealthier than grouped history in heroic marvels: he fell back on the exultation of his having seen her. He frankly believed in her revelation of a greater world and a livelier earth. justly discarded as being beneath the honour of serving for a temporary casket. and that he was now merely excited by his lively gallop to a certain degree of hard brightness noticeable in hunting men at their dinner. She necessarily supposed the excess of his peculiarities to be an effect of the portrait. Even then he had thoughts whether it might be safe. On the contrary. But if she left him blind of her. He had decided not to be a party in the sale of either of his daughter's estates: let her choose other agents: if the iniquity was . if sentimentally. she left him with no lessened bigness of heart. And without a warning. but he had not a syllable for the sublime of the mountains. and his own remarks. and what they uttered at the repast. he talked sheer commonplace. He locked it up. his power of imagining them wrestled with vapour. doing the thing he asked himself about doing tearing open the paper cover of the portrait of her who had flitted in his head for years unseen. dreamier. her features were lost. The treasure he held declined to enter the breast-pocket of his coat. without his having been sensible of any meaning in it. Adiante illumined an expanded world for him. Ultimately she fancied the miniature had been overlooked in his hurry to dress. Meanwhile Caroline had withdrawn and the lord of Earlsfont was fretting at his theme. He started to and fro. No wonder Miss Adister deemed him wilder and stranger than ever. sunrise. according to her ideas of a young man of some depth of feeling. with a vow to come early to rest. not permitting another hand to touch her: all very well. the youth whose heart is an opened mine. the effort contracted his outlook. he had the look of those who bate breath and swarm their wits to catch a sound. He turned right and left a brilliant countenance that had the glitter of frost-light. and on the hope for the speedy coming of midnight. His underlip dropped. and his praises of the mare likewise. secresy to secresy. and had put up the mare. she fled. and groomed and fed her. yet the real one. She lifted it out of darkness with swift throbs of her heavenliness as she swam to his eyelids. it sparkled and was unreceptive. and his glorious elation of thrice man almost up to mounting spirit would be restored to make him worthy of the vision. remote but present. vanished and dazzled anew. under the spell of imagined magical beauty. and made these gleams of her and the dark intervals his dream of the winged earth on her flight from splendour to splendour. And there she was.--follow you that can. and would have had him. he was unaware of. At last he remembered that the summoning bell had been in his ears a long time back. Who spoke. and the other pockets he perhaps. He might have careered over midland flats for any susceptibility that he betrayed to the grandeur of the scenery she loved. He had ridden to the spur of the mountains. banner. only wanting such light to show its riches. whose head is an irradiated sky. She was bugle. of his inmost ambition and rapture.

Hideous (for there was no combating her father's painting of him). Patrick heard of a sexagenarian rake and Danube adventurer. among others. claimed his princedom on the strength of his father's murder of a reigning prince and sitting in his place for six months.' said Mr. representing her incredible husband. fox-eyes. Sitting alone by his fire. in short. with hook-nose. her face was the vindication and the grief. the battle of the imagination ceased and she was fairer for him than if her foot had continued pure of its erratic step: fairer. able to say to himself that he saw her clearly as though the portrait was in the palm of his hand. he was almost interesting through his alliance:--an example of how much earth the worshipper can swallow when he is quite sincere. Patrick in sooth was engaged in the hard attempt at the same time to do two of the most difficult things which can be proposed to the ingenuity of sensational youth: he was trying to excuse a respected senior for conduct that he could not approve. There was a riddle to be answered in her cutting herself away from Philip. and now by force of some natural light she broke through the ugly mist and gave her adored the sweet lines and colours of the features he had lost. his hands would be clean of it. This fellow. Patrick accepted Adiante's husband: the man was her husband.committed. and now she sank into obscurity behind the blackest of brushes. The usual traverses besetting true lovers . There goes a Welshwoman's legacy to the sea. Without knowing it he had done it and got some of the upholding strength of those noblest of honest men who not merely give souls to women--an extraordinary endowment of them--but also discourse to them with their souls. and chin of a beast of prey. the gift of an exquisite fragility that cannot break. and one of them. snapping for gold all day and half the night. 'direct information that this gibbet-bird is conspiring to dethrone--they call it--the present reigning prince. he could not answer it. to spend their winnings in debauchery and howl threats of suicide. never fulfilled early enough. containing his shagginess in a frogged hussar-jacket and crimson pantaloons. Camminy kept his head bent. his hand on his glass of port. he had shaken himself free of the exacting senses which consent to the worship of women upon the condition of their possessing all the precious and the miraculous qualities. by her desire--if she has not written under compulsion of the scoundrel--intended to speed their blood-mongering. Instead of his going under eclipse. the beauty of his lady eclipsed her monster. Adister spoke by way of prelude to the sketch of 'this prince' whose title was a lurid delusion. habitually one of the dogs lining the green tables of the foreign Baths. owing to the eyes he saw with. and the proceeds of my daughter's estates are. asking an English gentleman to acknowledge him as a member of his family! I have. while he did inward battle to reconcile his feelings with the frightful addition to his hoard of knowledge: in other words. in person a description of falcon-Caliban. with a herd of swine with devils in them!' Mr. 'What do you say to such a nest of assassins. Patrick stared. There was an ebb and flow of the struggle. an outcast and blackleg. when they lost. Mr. grizzled billow of frowsy moustache. till a merited shot from another pretender sent him to his account. Adister. he gazed at her for hours and bled for Philip. until. He believed in her right to choose according to her pleasure since her lover was denied her. and the working of his troubled brows gave the unhappy gentleman such lean comfort as he was capable of taking. he sought strenuously to mix the sketch of the prince with the dregs of the elixir coming from the portrait of Adiante. upon terms flattering to the individual devotee.

for he quitted his bed passionately regretting that he had not gone through a course of drill and study of the military art. was not the same person to him. true to his brother though he was (admiration of a woman does thus influence the tides of our blood to render the noblest of us guilty of some unconscious wavering of our loyalty). Guns and spears and swords overhead and about. Small marvel that Philip had loved her. she expected him to show a sign of appreciation. How. She answered that it was the Greek Church. wild enthusiasm. 'Poor fellow' Patrick cried aloud. The sleep he had was urgently dream-ridden to goals that eluded him and broadened to fresh races and chases waving something to be won which never was won. enemies and slanders and intercepted letters. the full length of her. Obediently to Mr. and on another surging of his admiration launched the resolve that he would serve her blindly. and moreover he fondled an absurd notion that the miniature would be entrusted to him for a time.' She named the famous artist who had painted it. without one question. her face and neck. and closely in relation to realities. There was she. Mr. The pain of the thought of relinquishing it was the origin of this foolishness. she had not the same secret. Patrick's 'Ah' was unsatisfactory. she was beautiful differently. . and the means and the aim. if it be fair to prove him so deeply. and could besides clasp the frame.were suggested to him. He asked her to tell him the Church whose forms of faith the princess had embraced. and was almost a possession. He remembered Mr. He sighed. 'think it a living image of her as she was then. Adister's order. 'The Greek.' He would not be instigated to speak. 'We.' he thought. He rejected them in the presence of the beautiful inscrutable. and heaven and a great heart would show the way. 'You do not admire it. and reserved the other.' said she. and here was he. O'Donnell?' she cried. yet he must have been endowed to extricate a particular meaning applied to himself out of the mass of tumbled events. Presently she said: 'It was a perfect likeness. Adiante at eighteen. and drooped on a fit of tears. Caroline stood with Patrick before the portrait of her cousin. The whole of it was featureless. By right he should have loved the portrait best: but he had not seen it first. And again. Adiante was as beautiful by day as by night. he had already lived through a life of emotions with the miniature.' said he. tragic episodes. the portrait had been taken from one of his private rooms and placed in the armoury. Patrick dedicated the full-length of Adiante to Philip. he did not think of. the veil covering the canvas of late removed. where. for himself. The riddle of her was more burdensome in the daylight. albeit untiringly pursued amid a series of adventures. gazing harder at the portrait. a shifting agitation. fresh in her love of Philip. Adister's having said that military training was good for all gentlemen. the youthful figure of Adiante was ominously encompassed. when. 'I could join the French Foreign Legion. He looked.

"Keep it. That's love! So I determined the night after I'd shaken his hand I'd be off to Earlsfont and try my hardest for him."' Caroline faltered: 'Your brother does not know?' 'Pity him. she would. Patrick put out a finger. where he's waiting. I have her and her thoughts.' 'Perhaps not. 'The bit of work done in Vienna. His blow 's to come. but I do. She would have had him. 'Do you admire that so much?' 'I do. 'The eyes there don't seem to say. He was dead struck when the shaft struck him. and the service. I can tell him a trifle to help him over his agony. I like it better. It's the same colour. Miss Adister.' 'But why do you like that better?' said Caroline. The eyes are not the same. She part smiles. and say. like a bubble bursting up from the heart in her breast. I caught the print of it on my ride yesterday. Only he might have the miniature for his bride. I've an idea it ought to be given to Philip. She thinks of her walk.' 'Ladies?' Caroline inquired by instinct. if she hadn't feared he'd be talked of as Captain Con has . 'what don't they say here! It's a bright day for the Austrian capital that has her by the river Danube. dark eyebrows and fair hair. nor did Captain Con. She blushed. It's hopeless now. and the end of it.' 'The same?' said Caroline. that's next to her soul. There'd be little use in proposing it. if he would." But look. You can't see her there and not be sure she had a heart. but there's the dimple.' 'We consider it not to be compared to this. she keeps her mouth shut. 'As this. 'And charming. She's tall.'Oh. and some French cousins we have. I was with him a couple of hours and he never mentioned a word of it. 'real dear girls. And not thinking of her pride. But mine has her all to herself while she's thinking undisturbed in her boudoir. We talked of Ireland.' He craned his head round to woo some shadow of assent to the daring suggestion. Miss Adister. He can't or he 'd have spoken of it to me. "I'm yours to make a hero of you. and that's worth a kingdom.' He tapped on the left side. She carries herself like a great French lady.' he drew forth from under his waistcoat the miniature. and nothing beats that. If I could hand him this. Yours has a landscape.' said he. and it means a thought. I've made acquaintance with the country. Philip might have one. She did not understand it at all. for you'll get nothing more of her. deeming it his wilfulness. 'Just to break the shock 'twill be to my brother. to make it right with her parents. and those are your mountains.' said Patrick. That's how she looked when she was drawing on her gloves with good will to go out to meet him. and half my property.

she calls her. but not an old rainpipe and spout. I see what she could have done there. then. And. And that was the main reason. but I'm one with my people about evictions. she has brave ideas. I went to. He wanted just that English wife to steady him and pour drops of universal fire into him. and he offers himself to the handsomest and sweetest of yours. and so has Philip: though the worst is." She hates that marriage. she said. Philip abused for fortune-hunting.' 'What authority?' said Caroline coldly. Oh dear! She's a friend worth having. only there should be justice. lost to Ireland. and a little knowledge to make allowance for the natural cravings of a different kind of people. Well. I mean. 'Her own old nurse. and very soon we sat conversing like old friends. I'm certain she would. And Mrs. She caught the likeness to Philip on a lift of her eye. But here comes a man. but she would have kept him straight. to keep him face to face with the world. Poor Paddy. seems like flinging the money that's the sweat of the brow into a stone conduit to roll away to a giant maw hungry as the sea.' Patrick added hurriedly. And how she loves her darling Miss Adiante! She won't hear of "princess. She was all for my brother Philip. and his bit of earth! If you knew what we feel for him! I'm a landlord. I'm for union. It's the bleeding to death of our land! Transactions from hand to hand of warm human flesh-nothing else will do: I mean. Ah. the boldest and handsomest of his race.' 'You went to Jenny's inn?' 'The Earlsfont Arms. our country has no hearth-fire. Jenny at the door. they're likely to drive him out of the army into politics and Parliament. ready to tell me anything to get me to think well of her. Miss Deenly. watching the rain. We Irish take strong root. I have it on authority. She would have held him to his profession. for men of our blood. has to be served in our days: that is. so I set to work. And why absentees. and she leans to him. 'he married an heiress and sank his ambition for distinction like a man who has finished his dinner. and she was up in defence of her darling. Miss Adiante has a mighty soul. too. I mean. Ah! she would have kept my brother temperate in his notions and his plans. and his pig.' 'Jenny Williams?' 'The one! I had it from her.been--about the neighbourhood. and an Irishman there is a barrow trolling a load of grievances. And honest rent paid over to absentees. As for the religion. and I suppose that inter-marriages are good for both. Miss Adister? Because we've no centre of home life: the core has been taken out of us. For he's an Irishman and a Catholic. She calls him "Our handsome lieutenant. if you think of it. they could each have practised their own: her father would have consented to the fact. letting him be true to his country in a fair degree. when it came on him in that undeniable shape of two made one. because he. Destiny directed me. Not a soldier alive knows the use of cavalry better than my brother. and the family won't have him. if we don't forget our duty at home. We were soon playing at old cronies over past times. through an agent. I saw the way to bring her out. She says. Something bigger than an island. why Miss Adiante broke with him and went abroad her dear child wouldn't have Mr. Ay." She'll keep the poor fellow a subaltern all his life. Who is it then .

Nor was she unmoved. He looked vacantly at Patrick. 'Old houses are doomed to burnings. Caroline will drive there. desperately 'Mr. 'When you find a man purely destructive.' Patrick replied. It startled her to surprise. He did his best. and wondering in a different kind of surprise. I shan't be a pleasant messenger to him. If I might take him this . stood for proof of a generous manliness. how and by what profitless ingenuity he contrived to weave them together. sir. He gazed at his idol of untouched eighteen. And some day . Before she had replied.' he said. fetching a breath. she said on an impulse. The meet is at eleven. when it pleases him to visit me. Adister. sir. and a devil in the family may bring us to ashes. Caroline's inward smile threw a soft light of humour over her features at the simple cunning of his wind-up to the lecture on his country's case. don't you?' he said.' 'That!' said Mr. for to-morrow I must be off to my brother. to carry it to Philip. Adister.' . ?' Patrick pleaded with the miniature raised like the figure of his interrogation. and Patrick was pleading still. and if he does worse now he's not entirely to blame. . and she felt herself to be a piece of damask. Go and choose your horse. O'Donnell begs to have the miniature for his brother. 'Some day I shall be happy to welcome your brother.opposed the proper union of the two islands? Not Philip. her uncle entered the armoury. . There's my fear. The misfortune is. !' he could not continue his thought upon what he might be destined to wish for. you think him a devil. 'Keep it safe. 'If you think of hunting to-day. I should be glad to take him something. notwithstanding her fancied perception of his Jesuitry: his look and his voice were persuasive. He turned to the virgin Adiante. his love of his brother was deep. and ran it on to. . five miles distant. discarding the sight of the princess. To disentangle herself. Adister waved his hand hastily. She was a great deal to Philip--three parts of his life. his change of sentiment toward Adiante after the tale told him by her old nurse Jenny. sat down and shut his eyes. He is ignorant about the princess as yet.' Patrick consulted her on a glance for counsel. which led her to perceive a similar cunning simplicity in his identification of it with Philip's. 'I presumed to ask for it. 'A good first cousin to one. watchful for a hint to seize the connection.' Patrick swung instantly to Mr. It could be returned after a time. for the reason that she'd been reviewing his freakish hops from Philip to Ireland and to Adiante.' 'Take it. . he would like to have a bit of the wreck. that when he learns the total loss of her on that rockpromontory. he'll be dashing himself upon rocks sure to shiver him. He has nothing of her to call his own.' Mr. a very fiery dye. we have not many minutes to spare before we mount. 'I shall be glad to join you.

'No young man is worth a job. and his estate. CHAPTER VIII CAPTAIN CON AND MRS. 'Try South America. and whither he intended first to direct his travels: questions which Patrick understood to be kindly put for the sake of promoting conversation with a companion of unripe age by a gentleman who had wholesomely excited his blood to run. how much more pitiably than the common sons of earth who have the broad common field to fall down on and our good mother's milk to set them on their legs again. Her voice shook: 'My uncle loves those who loved her. I stood condemned to waste my youth in idle parades.' He could see she was trembling.' The lordly gentleman plotted out a scheme of colonisation and conquest in that region with the coolness of a practised freebooter. 'Leave Europe behind you. the narrow pedestal whereon the stiff figure of a man of iron pride must accommodate itself to stand in despite of tempests without and within. until your power is respected. sir.Patrick bowed.' said Mr. When you are feared you will be on your mettle.' he said.' Mr. and checking the trot of his horse. for he was clear-eyed when his feelings were not over-active.' said Patrick. Adister questioned Patrick familiarly about his family. He saw too. The estate you have inherited is not binding on you. the compassion for Philip in kinship of grief and loss. When he was alone his ardour of gratefulness enabled him to see into her uncle's breast: the inflexible frigidity. They will favour you with provocation. and how the statue rocks there. purchasing some thousands of acres to establish a legal footing there. Mr. lasting regrets and remorse. Had I to recommence without those encumbrances. 'who does not mean to be a leader. and begin by taking over two or three hundred picked Irish and English--have both races capable of handling spade and musket. Adister did not wait for it. They were answered. I would try my fortune yonder. Adister warming. and there is a necessity for the extension of your territory. Miss Adister. Patrick had no immediate destination in view. and his brother's prospects in the army. the stately generosity. and as leader to have dominion. oppressed by the mighty gift. except the last one. 'I owe this to you. ADISTER O'DONNELL Riding homeward from the hunt at the leisurely trot of men who have steamed their mounts pretty well. to advise him. I should not doubt the result. 'I haven't the word to thank you with. the angry dignity. 'You increase your colony from the mother country in the ratio of your prosperity. supposing myself to have under my sole command a trained body of . Here we are fettered by ancestry and antecedents. and hunting the bear and buffalo. You can realise it.

the lord of Earlsfont having delivered his mind. but the trot was resumed. There are--Mr. 'South America is the quarter I should decide for. but owing you service. Half-breeds are the ruin of colonists. Our men are born for conquest. you ride well. and without hard fighting to teach the settlers to value good leadership and respect their chiefs.' 'I'm only interpreting the people. Glad that his tongue had been kept from wagging. you might raise a famous breed.' 'Owners of the soil. much marvelling. O'Donnell. but they will soon be snapped up by the European and North American Governments. It would require money and a navy.' Patrick would have liked to fling a word in about the Englishman's cast of his eye upon inviting lands. and back they were pushed by the inveterate coloniser--stationing at threatened points his old 'artillerymen' of those days and so it ends. owners of the soil.' said Patrick.--'the Pacific Islands.men of English blood--and Irish. with a difference. as a young man. We are on ground. 'I can show the same in my country. you would have splendid pastures over there. which my forefathers contested sharply and did not yield. would be my choice: young fellows and boys among them. 'Undoubtedly.' 'They fight sir' 'It is hardly to be specified in the calculation. that bard and priest and prince. and a minute made it happily too late for the sarcastic bolt. particularly old artillerymen. Australia is not comparable with it.' 'Jump out of that tinder-box as soon as you can.' He mused. it would suit our English stock. he trotted along beside his host in the dusky evening over the once contested land where the gentleman's forefathers had done their deeds and firmly fixed their descendants.' 'When I was in South America.' 'Everything has been crushed there barring the contrary opinion. it astonished me that no Englishman had cast an eye on so inviting a land. Soldiery who have served their term. and divine prescription. they tumble into Republics. and grappling natives never wanting for fierceness. And where colonisations have begun without system. and a righteous holding. roared to-arms in the beacon-flames from ridge to peak: and down they poured. holy poetry. sir. Mr. and a single one of them does not offer space. You are a judge of horses. We were conquerors here.' 'Considerably to your benefit. The air is fine. A remainder of dull red fire prolonged the half-day above the mountain strongholds of the former owners of the soil. upon which prince and bard and priest. .' 'The owners of the soil had to do that. knowing them.' rejoined Patrick. Adister's intonation told of his proposing a wretched alternative.' 'I could expect such a remark from a rebel. Women would have to be taken. and it is want of action and going physically forward that makes us a rusty people.

From the moment when he beheld Mr. and changing into the form of woman ever. Patrick was not asked to postpone his departure from Earlsfont. Mr.' he thought. instead of turning me off to decipher a bit of Egyptian on baked brick. because he was conscious that no form of woman would anywhere come of them. An insurrectionary rising of his breast on behalf of his country was the consequence. he could think of her as being . this time without penetrating. as they were in the habit of doing. nor was he invited to come again. the conqueror's foot stamps on them. it's queer counsel. justice. He reverted. Imagination would not have stirred for a thousand fleeting hares: and principally. it may be. or else the series of pictures projected by the troops of sensations running through him were not of a solidity to support any structure of philosophy. up to his arrival in London. they were digesting what they had taken in. scarcely one of his 'ideas' darted out before Patrick. incurably Celtic as he was.are as naught against him. Had not Caroline assured him at the leave-taking between them that he had done her uncle great good by his visit. Adister drove him to the station in the early morning. and he put them aside as mere titles employed for the uses of a police and a tribunal to lend an appearance of legitimacy to the decrees of them that have got the upper hand. All the same. thought he. consistency. With a woman. For as he had travelled down to Earlsfont in the state of ignorance and hopefulness. tempting him to pursue. 'But why not a warm word. right. so he abandoned the puzzle of fitting them to men's acts and their consciences. like the enchanted bares of fairyland. the blank of the usual ceremonial phrases would have caused him to fancy himself an intruder courteously dismissed. the prospect was fair. Adister's phaeton mounting a hill that took the first leap for the Cambrian highlands. He kept it down by turning the whole hubbub within him to the practical contemplation of a visionary South America as the region for him and a fighting tenantry. so did his acquisition of a particular fact destructive of hope solidify them about it as he travelled back: in other words. the wind scatters them. though rather in name than in spirit. that we should set to work by buying a bit of land to win a clean footing to rob our neighbours: and his brains took another shot at Mr. which had not been witnessed for many a day and so it appeared that the recent guest had been exceptionally complimented. but the father of Adiante had touched him with the gift of the miniature. He was further comforted by hearing the stationmaster's exclamation of astonishment and pleasure at the sight of the squire 'in his place' handling the reins. They were too hard to think of. He could very well have seen the matter he disliked in a man that he disliked. bearing the liquid brains of that young condition. strangest of all. you hear victorious lawlessness appealing solemnly to God the law. she had the ring on her finger! He could at his option look on her in the miniature. They go. Woman was married. at some turn of the chase. to the abstractions. Patrick was too young to philosophise upon his ideas. like yonder embers of the winter sunset before advancing night: and to morrow the beacon-heaps are ashes. to crown her queen there. But where dwelt the woman possessing majesty suitable to such a dream in her heart or her head? The best he had known in Ireland and in France. and gave him a single nod from the phaeton-box for a goodbye. never more to enter the grand old Hall. preferred the charms of society to bold adventure. Adister.

but he could not conjure her out of space. Here we are. choosing to be poor rather than call her forth. the errant returned. slightly dashed with rigour on the part of the regnant lady. You've the right style for her. vexatious extreme for a lady composed of orderliness. for bad news than snapping fire and feinting. and the man who has her hasn't a share in that!' Thus. my boy: and mind. worthy of all respect: but formality's the flattery she likes: a good bow and short speech. You dip your hands and face. 'And I'll accompany the boy to hurry him on. We've waited for him gaping. it seemed to Patrick that the intelligence would have to be communicated.' 'Let it be so. considering that both the gentlemen attending her. which is not to be wondered at. quitted her table with shouts at the announcement of his name. 'we are in England. I'll have out the dress. 'and so 's Patrick. give me the key. thought he. and the dinner to be delayed in middle course.in the city where she had been painted. madam. 'Poor old Philip!' was his perpetual refrain. the girl you loved is married. She acknowledged Patrick's profound salute and his excuses with just so many degrees in the inclining of her head as the polite deem a duty to themselves when the ruffling world has disarranged them. She named the bedchamber to a footman. Philip and her husband. hurrying Patrick on as he spoke. Determined that bang it should be. and here's her portrait taken in her last blush. thanks to the stars. Bang is better. He was in truth digesting with difficulty. the Prodigal Pat recovered by his kinsman! and she had to submit to the introduction of the disturber: and a bedchamber had to be thought of for the unexpected guest. and a manly fellow. where he had left him. when you're bound half to kill a fellow. 'Philip. 'Con!' she called to her chattering husband. and either the guest permitted to appear at her table in sooty day-garb. and he kept the secret.' said the captain. and then the fellow vanished. for he forgot to give us his address in town. or else a great gap commanded in the service of her dishes. throwing in the ghost of a sigh for sympathy. and her husband corrected between the discussions concerning the bedchamber. and the room's lighted. Secretly she was a feeling that lay half slumbering very deep down within him. she was nowhere in the ambient air. where he created a joyful confusion. till he had him out of the dining-room. when he whispered: 'Out with your key. crying that the lost was found. kidnapped. and if we can scramble you into your evening-suit quick we shall heal the breach in the dinner. for the once. he hurried from the terminus to Philip's hotel. burned. and her husband hauled him in unwashed before her. he stood before us for an hour or so. as it happens. she is an excellent good woman. made a meal of and swallowed up. We fancied him gone.' said the captain. With your permission I'll venture an opinion that he'll go and dabble his hands and sit with us as he is. and here's hot water in tripping Mary's hands.' 'To be sure. The portmanteau opens . under the earth or the water. not pacified beneath her dignity. Off to the basin. if you please. and was thence despatched to the house of Captain Con O'Donnell.' she rejoined. as must be the case when it is allotted to the brains to absorb what the soul abhors.

or the union's a mockery. Quick! the door's shut on rosy Mary. she's Mrs.' 'You've been visiting Earlsfont? Whack! but that's the saving of us! Talk to her of her brother he sends her his love. she entertains Father Boyle heartily. and warranted not to relax before the evening 's over. to effect a conjunction. and we're in a mess already. What did you go down there for? But don't stand answering questions. 'Tis the secret of my happiness. I do respect . Don't heed her countenance at the going in: we've got the talisman. devil a doubt of it. Here they are. in decency. you'll study her. Talk to her of the ancestral hall--it stands as it was on the day of its foundation. she's a virtuous woman and an affectionate wife. when a woman has reached her perfect development. And mind you don't set me off talking overmuch downstairs. come along. but she was married at forty. She's a worthy woman. saying 'Earlsfont. and leans a trifle more to ceremonies than to substance. remember. before you out with it. 'Tis the secret of my happiness. you know. my boy. she's a charitable soul. Just wait about five minutes to let her punish us. to excuse the gash you've made in her dinner. where have you been? She'll be asking. and she'll own it after a dose of Earlsfont. then. But say.' 'Where are those rascally dress-boots of mine?' cried Patrick. Consider her for my sake. As to the dressing. both of 'm. and don't be smirking at the glass. your necktie's as neat as a lady's company-smile. who said: 'You'll tell her you couldn't sit down in her presence undressed. Captain Con pitched the contents of the portmanteau right and left. and we'll institute a rummage up here between that and the procession to the drawing-room. for moulding her at all was out of the question. rolled in a dirty shirt!' Patrick seized the boots and tugged them on. Adister O'Donnell: and that's best rolled out to Mistress. and the soft parts of me had to be the sufferers. I married her at forty. she's not Mrs. Con.' Patrick's transformation was rapid enough to satisfy the impatient captain. Madam. Your legs will be under the table during dinner. addressing her. poor t' other must. indirect communication with heaven. The race is for domestic peace. and that 's a wonder in a woman chaste as ice. for where one won't and can't. and doesn't frown to see me turn off to my place of worship while she drum-majors it away to her own. by the way.' said Patrick. Patrick. And where have you been the while?' 'I'll tell you by and by. Anyhow. I sacrifice everything I can for it. equal at both ends. I talk in her presence like the usher of the Court to the judge. call her. and England's the foremost country of the globe. if she wasn't cut in bog-root.easy. it's a perfect trick of harlequinade. where you'll be examined head to foot. we're that part of the kite!--but. somewhere. And. like the good woman she is to good men. and unfortunate females too have a friend in her. and may as well have a place to name to her. 'Never mind the boots. She was cast in bronze at her birth. 'Tell me now. and she chastises absurdities. madam. She hasn't a taste for jokes. and only to be connected with such a country by the tail of it is a special distinction and a comfort for us. 'Twill come best from you. it should be--madam. and I had to take her shaped as she was. a real friend--that they have. my boy.

enjoyable in pictures. my boy. he was a bard without a theme. and candour of spirit shone through the transparency she was. half enclosing her high narrow forehead. She resembled her brother. He fell to work upon his plate in obedience to the immediate policy dictated to him. for languages and laughter. 'Tis the secret of my happiness.her. chiefly then. of no greater breadth than her principal feature. She was like a marble effigy seated upright. or on skates. anything for warmth. and the having fearfully to contain himself for the greater number of the hours of the day. Now Captain Con was by nature ruddy as an Indian summer flushed in all its leaves. . Mental directness. and he was irritable to hear why Patrick had gone off to Earlsfont. The corners of his face had everywhere a frank ambush. The unbending English lady contrasted with her husband so signally that the oddly united couple appeared yoked in a common harness for a perpetual display of the opposition of the races. The life sufficed to her. wherein the fanciful discern fine sprites indulging in luxurious grimaces at a government long-nosed to no purpose. and what he had done there. a pale. Captain Con thrust him in. thin. . requiring but to be laid at her length for transport to the cover of the tomb. and prepare for a cold bath the first five minutes. Her aspect suggested the repose of a winter landscape. the frost presiding at the table was fast withering Captain Con. his genius for humour and passion for sly independence came up and curled away like the smoke of the illicit still. or child's hiding-place. fathered the sentiment of revolt in his bosom. Her disciplined husband signified an equal mixture of contrition and astonishment at the passing of time. and I'd like to see the man to favour me with an opportunity of proving it on him! So you'll not forget. and he cried to himself: Hats and crape-bands! mightily struck by an idea that he and his cousins were a party of hired mourners . He certainly was a man of speech. bidding it be known that the light across the wolds was not deceptive and a glimmer of light subsists among the silent within. otherwise nipping. as Patrick said of him to Caroline Adister. By this time. was the character it expressed. I have to attend to 'm. and it could not be disputed that there was rigour in the beneficent laws imposed upon him by his wife. He could worm with a smile quite his own the humour out of men possessing any. and the adventures he had tasted on the road. straight bridge of nose descended prominently over her sunken cheeks to thin locked lips. if that mild taper could be said to shine in proof of a vitality rarely notified to the outer world by the opening of her mouth.' Priming his kinsman thus up to the door of the diningroom. though not malevolently to command: as the portal of some snow-bound monastery opens to the outcast. for the preservation of the domestic felicity he had learnt to value. the lord of Earlsfont. All these things are trifles to an unmarried man. Mistress Adister O'Donnell's head rounded as by slow attraction to the clock. and even under rigorous law. I have to be politic and give her elbow-room for her natural angles. . in her remarkable height and her calm air of authority and self-sustainment. Out with Earlsfont early after that. His efforts to fish the word out of Patrick produced deeper crevasses in the conversation. long after five minutes had elapsed. From beneath a head-dress built of white curls and costly lace. Perhaps.

She resumed: 'You have the art of dressing in a surprisingly short time. 'Good horses in the stable too. I think I remember hearing that you go there at Christmas. Adister O'Donnell ejaculated: 'Wine!' for a heavy comment upon one of his topics.' said Mrs. He overhauled his plotting soul publicly: 'Why don't you out with it yourself!' and it was wonderful why he had not done so.over the meat they consumed. my dear. 'You have seen my brother Edward. and was nobly welcomed and entertained. Patrick addressed Mrs.' 'And brings a message of his love to you. and I took the liberty of calling on Mr.' said the captain. 'Do not excuse yourself at all. gunpowder.' said the captain.' his wife sedately remarked to Patrick. And that's witness to me that you may count on him for what the great Napoleon called two-o'clock-in-the-morning courage. The captain shivered. 'The desert where you 've come from 's good. Philip saw that Patrick had no desire to spread. We hunted. madam. he went down to look at the brav old house of the Adisters. He answered neither to a dip of the hook nor to a pull. and crushed it. coming from him. sharply nodding. Adister.' the Captain bit his nail harder. Mrs. Adister. And for when he added: 'The boy's fresh from Earlsfont. and made a vast impression. I was down there. and I had a very kind reception.' 'Our last Christmas at Earlsfont was a sad meeting for the family. and Patrick replied: 'The captain is giving a free translation. Patrick was endeavouring to spare his brother a mention of Earlsfont before they had private talk together. 'You have a message for me?' she asked. madam. not too common even in his . He stood neat and trim from the silk socks to the sprig of necktie in six minutes by my watch. and did not trouble him. and he was moved by the silvery tremulousness of her voice. Adister: 'I have hardly excused myself to you. save that he was prone to petty conspiracy. My brother Edward is well?' 'I had the happiness to be told that I had been of a little service in cheering him. we had a good day with the hounds. letting her eyes dwell on the young man. 'Didn't I say so? Patrick's a hero for love or war.' she said. my dear.' 'There!' exclaimed Captain Con: for no man can hear the words which prove him a prophet without showing excitement.' 'I can believe it.' Her head was aloft in dumb apostrophe of wearifulness over another of her husband's topics. and had thought reasonably that the revelation would be damp.

' he said to Philip over his shoulder. and an excellent maiden. upon his pious vociferation that there should be no trifling with her hours of rest. as if she had never heard him previously enunciate the formula. so he had to do likewise. Adister accepted her husband's proffered arm unhesitatingly at the appointed stroke of the clock.' said Patrick. bitterly regretting that.immortal army:--when it's pitch black and frosty cold. 'What does it mean?' Patrick fired his cannon-shot: 'She's married!' Consulting his feelings immediately after. It's too late now. all's over. Patrick. . Thereupon he apologised to the brothers. with good wine in the cellar. that's bravery. But Captain Con rather shame-facedly explained to Patrick that it was a sham departure. and the trumpet springs you to your legs in a trice. asking him. Napoleon knew the thing.' in agreement with him. I've worse than that to think of. and was escorted to the door by all present. whom she informed that Caroline was the youngest daughter of General Adister.' 'You don't mind it?' 'That's old news. to which his wife honourably adhered.' 'My dear boy.' The captain was permitted to discourse as he pleased: his wife was wholly given to the recent visitor to Earlsfont. She said: 'Yes. her second brother. they had to follow without a single spin to the claretjug: he closed the door merely to state his position.--never waiting an instant to ask what's the matter and pretend you don't know. That's rare. Philip tossed his head. my hand's on the boy's back for that. boots and trowsers. according to the convention. his could be no house for claret. and Patrick has it. Philip. and promising them they should sit in their shirts and stretch their legs. and you're buried within in a dream of home. . as regarded his share of it. her dear Edward's mainstay in his grief. 'But why did you go down there?' 'I went. full of solicitude for the steps of the admirable lady now positively departing. and one twirl to the whiskers. coat and sword-belt and shako. and toast the old country and open their hearts.' 'You don't care for her any more. I thought you looked wretched. I went . Mrs. and away before a second snap of the fingers to where the great big bursting end of all things for you lies crouching like a Java-Tiger--a ferocious beast painted undertaker's colour--for a leap at you in particular out of the dark. how at half-past ten he would be a free man. At last she rose. no later than the minute pointing to the time for his deliverance. he hated himself for his bluntness. and I went with an idea of learning where she was. Philip laid his hand on Patrick. Philip?' . . 'well. and seeing if I couldn't do something. 'You can find your way to my cabin. As soon as the brothers were alone.

can you be having to think of?' 'Affairs. and talk like copious rivers meandering at their own sweet will. according to the convention.' 'I'm sorry she didn't make a better choice. The captain's cabin was the crown of his house-top. if ever they were in this world! Chuck . Here we take our indemnity for subjection to the tyrannical female ear. He rejoined his cousins. and there 's a small square of lead between the tiles outside for that.' 'So I hear. chirping variations on it. This introductory ode to Freedom was his throwing off of steam. unbosom. and he was up among the chimneys. Here. and so he saw through Philip. or for long in his custody. followed in wonderment by Patrick. to my own music. and no one save rosy Mary. and the capital of the British Empire below me. when she came upon her morning business to clean and sweep. smoke ascends. 'any tale you've a mind for-infamous and audacious! You're licensed by the gods up here. calling them liberty. who would hardly have been his dupe to suppose him indifferent and his love of Adiante dead. and made his way to the cabin of Captain Con. in her sense of smell. except caper. explode. as it is known to the whole world. and their mothers and grandmothers.' 'Ah! And what worse. as I have had it on me. Philip. after one peep that eclipsed his little dream of being allowed to keep it. do all you like.' Philip replied. 'Now Phil. if the spirit of the jig comes upon you with violence. full of incitement to the legs and arms to swing and set him up for a Sultan. and the heartier it is the greater the exemption. CHAPTER IX THE CAPTAIN'S CABIN Patrick left his brother at the second flight of stairs to run and fling on a shooting-jacket. because. you can unfold. a builder's addition to the roof. be any the wiser of them. and may laugh at them too. here we flout reason. night is out season at half-past ten. My praties are ready for peelin'.' 'He's a prince. had not the thought flashed on him a prospect of retaining the miniature for his own. Here we roll like dogs in carrion.' he cried. where the detestable deeds he revelled in. and no one to sniff at our coats. the foretaste of what he contained.'You wouldn't have me caring for a married woman?' 'She has a perfect beast for a husband. into which he stuffed his treasure. Here we sing treason. We're pots that knock the lid and must pour out or boil over and destroy the furniture. could be practised. and eased myself mightily there. now Pat. he would say to his friends and fellow-sinners. and attired in a green silken suit of airy Ottoman volume. after tenderly pulling the door to and making sure it was shut. if the fit seizes ye.

and calling it life! There's no life save the eternal. His reign 's not for ever. till it takes me a quarter of an hour of my enfranchisement and restoration of my natural man to know myself again. They just keep their skeleton shape as they are. though it's a despotism with an iron bridle on the tongue outside to a foot of the door. victors and vanquished. boys. there are the boxes. and why? because he was told. no: devotion's good policy. And some of 'm in a rage bawl the answer for themselves. Father Boyle's got the truth. Naked we stand.wigs from sconces. Decency's a dirty petticoat in the Garden of Innocence. acting the part of somebody else. they're jaws and hindquarters. Hear that! No. There 's harmony in his elocution. and the ridiculous curl of a tail totally devoid of expression! You'll observe that gluttons have no feature. I could sit and watch grassblades for hours. for the turf mound protects them from troubles: 'tis the nurse to that delicate old infant!--Waves of the sea. Arctic to freeze the boldest bud of liberty! I'd like a French chanson from ye. that pitches Kings' heads into the basket like autumn apples. we're poor creatures. and there's none in the modern drivel about where we're going and what we came out of. but leave the puzzle to the priest. Pat. Phil. there are the bowls. I'm froth. And now cigars.' The captain drooped to represent the state of the self-relieving victim of the evil one. Christendom hasn't such a man as your cousin Con for feeling himself a pig-possessed all the blessed day. we 're waves of the sea. and off with your buckram. I'll say that for the Government. I'm that pig disgorging the spirit of wickedness from his poor stomach. but a blank note of interrogation addressed to Providence. You're in the stronghold defying him. 'tis the shadow that crosses the grass. and devil a constable at the keyhole. I love the grass. calling it life! And what hope have we of reading the mystery? All we can see is the straining of the old fellow's hams to push his old snout deeper into the gobble. For the moment. No.--You're not drinking! Are you both of ye asleep? why do ye leave me to drone away like this. big chief and suckling babe. my sons. about the big chief lying underneath in the last must of his bones that a breath of air would scatter. which is the beginning and end of 'm. when it 's conversation I want. Flesh is less than grass. did I say? We're wash in a hogtrough for Father Saturn to devour. He understands it. horrid boiling hissing dew of the agony of transformation. boys! we're not afraid of nature. but fearful lest either of his cousins should usurp the chair and thwart his chance of delivering himself. to put us in tune. No wonder they call it an age of despair. when you see the big wigs filing up and down the thoroughfares with a great advertisement board on their shoulders. scum. I am. the wretch. no rats. Pat. You're in the annexe of Erin. where the grey grass nods and seems to know the wind and have a whisper with it. we all go into it. I can't smoke till I have done steaming. he can't enter here. Or one of your hymns in Gaelic sung ferociously to sound as horrid to the Saxon. pipes. and so you may say to Time for his dealing with us: so let it be a lesson to you not to bother your wits. rolling over and over. princes and people. proclaiming no information to the multitude. he rattled away sympathetically with his posture in melancholy: 'Ay. pigs and prophets. with a right revolutionary hurling chorus. of ancient times maybe and most like. as if an answer from above would be vouchsafed to their impudence! They haven't the first principles of good manners. before the fig-leaf?--and you might have that for scroll and figure on the social banner of the hypocritical Saxon. I'll sit awhile silently for the operation. as in the days of our first parents. I love an old turf mound. Pat. who's a .

Parliament. And what . we're a loving people. She soaked the woman into you and squeezed the hero out of you. Pat. to be repaid them. he 's the very man to hurl his gauntlet. but if you won't have it. where he married in the middle of delicious love-adventures the beautiful Moira through the cunning of Craftine the harper. gets more fish than disappointment in comparison with us when we cast the net for Philip. for that young man. the beautiful Nesta:--and beautiful she was to match the mother of the curses trooping over to Ireland under Strongbow. All for Adiante! or a country left to slavery! that's the tale. and nearer to the Arch-devourer Time than anything I can imagine: except that with a little exertion you can elude him. ay. Pat. have no fear. I'll read it. So one day Maen had an insult put on him. 'Do they hear that? Lord! but wouldn't our old Celtic fill the world with poetry if only we were a free people to give our minds to 't. The whisky you've got between you 's virgin of the excise. a Cuchullin you were. and had for his tutors Ferkelne the bard and Crafting the harper.gormandising animal behind his decency. Lavra Con! Con speaks at last! I don't ask you. when they 're off at the charge! And you'll oblige me with the tale of Fontenoy. and 'twas this for certain: a ruffian fellow of the Court swore he couldn't mention the name of his father. Phil! and to think of your youth! We had you then. Philip. Write me the history of the Enniskillens. and in a thundering fury Maen burst his tongue-tie. We're dying like a nun that 'd be out of her cloister. And there he is. What am I here but a discontented idle lout crooning over the empty glories of our isle of Saints! You feel them. so long as you are parliamentary. or there he seems to be. his hair would stand up in fire for the splendid gallop at our head that's proposed to him. their heirs. his capabilities of British light cavalry. and the Court shouted Lavra Maen: and he had to go into exile. I'll pay double for freepeaty any day. how can we sing? In a freer Erin I'd be the bard of the land. And we should have had the length and strength of you. At least we had your heart. There's been no harper in my instance but plenty of ruffians to swear I'm too comfortable to think of my country. Phil's all for his British army. Pat. that I'll grant you. then-and it 's on your heads before Europe and the two Americas. whether you remember Maen. Oh. my lads? No? I'm fortified up here to stand a siege in my old round tower. who was born dumb. and assigns at compound interest. only for a woman fatal to us as the daughter of Rhys ap Tudor. my boy. as fools do: being one of their savings-bank tricks. and tell 'm. Bring tears of vexation at the emptiness we pull back for our pains. we're a loyal people. we're panting like the wife who hears of her husband coming home to her from the field of honour. executors. which means the speaking of our minds. but when our skins are eternally irritated. and I say. let him be there. challenging any other to a race for Ireland. But she reined you in when you were a real warhorse ramping and snorting flame from your nostrils. His country's gathered up like a crested billow to roll him into Parliament. and Cova spared the dumb boy.' The captain holloaed. Aha. Culann's chain-bound: but she unmanned you. For. Phil has an opportunity stretching forth a hand to him now more than halfway that comes to a young Irishman but once in a century: backed by the entire body of the priesthood of Ireland too! and if only he was a quarter as full of the old country as you and I. like the son of Eremon that I am. instead of to the itch on our backs from the Saxon horsehair shirt we're forced to wear. Or are you for claret. Why. thinking a man without a tongue harmless. but he's dead: and the fisherman off the west coast after dreaming of a magical haul. at pleasant Dinree: he was grandson of Leary Lore who was basely murdered by his brother Cova. we burn to be enthusiastic. administrators. never doubt it. as you know.

as the captain sadly reported no star visible. which seeing her was. perfectly remarkable in its lullaby motion. Patrick: they say she has married a prince. of a relative of hers. a beautiful woman with brains--which Helen of Troy hadn't. and I saw her sitting pulling at her old pipe in the cold October fog morning and evening for comfort. Welshmen and Irishmen and Englishmen tumbled into the pit. I'll own it: I had the catch of the breath that warns us of convulsions. and she 's a lady. and I've not heard of ambition that didn't kill its votary: somehow it will. he's a stone in a sling. she shot a dart or two into my breast in those days.' 'You should have seen me here the other night about a month ago. 'No politics. And he 's not to fancy he 's in for a peaceful existence.' said Philip: 'none of your early recollections. she's married ambition. she did. and to say. suffused in the merriest of grins. Phil. and this prince of hers is only a step she has taken. 'She sells apples at a stall at a corner of a street hard by. She never consulted her father about Prince Nikolas. She simply announced her approaching union. he'll prove himself cleverer than she. but she told it with a becoming air of appropriation that made it family history. Philip. Be jovial. and as she couldn't have a scion of one of the Royal House of Europe. She told me stories. and was overwhelmed with compassion and fraternal sentiment. She was the morning star for beauty. I was one of 'm. and one was pretty good. I'm her relative by marriage. They're my blessed guardian angels.' said Philip. is a title to subsequent friendship. and I say no. I'll just go to the window to see if the stars are out overhead. 'Fun and good-fellowship to-night. More than that. with the connivance of rosy Mary. and probably mistaken the rocking that's to launch him through the air for a condition of remarkable ease. Philip broke from a brown study to glance at his brother. and you. she put her foot on Prince Nikolas. 'Have I ever flown a signal to the contrary?' retorted the captain. I smuggled up an old countrywoman of ours. and mend her torn soul with a stitch or two of rejoicing. There she lies!' The prophetic captain pointed at the spot. only mark me. and I dare him to the trial. a century old. and there we jostled for a glimpse quite companionably. Con. just to have a roll with her in Irish mud. combustible as we know her to have been: but brains are bombshells in comparison with your old-fashioned pine-brands for kindling men and cities.are you now? A paltry captain of hussars on the General's staff! One O'Donnell in a thousand! And what is she?--you needn't frown. and all who come nigh her are steps to her aim. and this fellow had a stain of red upon . True. For she's that fiery dragon. with your permission. He then said: 'And now I'm for my pipe. and the best colour of both. and so I invited her to be at the door of the house at half-past ten. Ambition's the husband of Adiante Adister. we were too hungry for quarrelling. between night and day. Patrick made a queer face. ha! well. and if he chases her first mate from her bosom. 'tis sure to. or somebody's--I should say. and the blackest clay of the party. and I 'll thank you.' There was a pause. she's took to herself a husband in her cradle.' said Captain Con. I tell you. for she's come down in the world. she had begun her march and she didn't mean to be arrested.

' 'There is: and the jealousy of rulers caused them to be destroyed by decrees. 'Both of them are Saxon.' 'There is no record of pipe manufactories in Ireland at the period you name. while Patrick examined guns and Philip unsheathed swords. and. That's the way to make good things a part of you.him. the Irish pipe and English immediately. and strange to relate. or you wouldn't talk like that. I take it to be of English make. and the old girl quiet as a mouse for the fun's sake.' 'Maybe they 're both Irish. but with the expressiveness of grave absorption. then?' the captain caught at analogy to rescue his favourite from reproach. It is an Orange pipe. 'like tails of Shannonbred retrievers. and I tell you. Philip. never clapping hands. 'This was dropped in Boyne Water by one of William's troopers. your Riverence. buzzing over the display of implements. "Not I. Con!' 'Let him go to the deuce with as many pipes as he can carry." I believe she smoked this identical pipe. rosy Mary sneaking her down. He called on the brothers to admire the 'martial and fumial' decorations of his round tower.' Philip held up the reputed Irish pipe. An ancient clay pipe from the bed of the Thames and one from the bed of the Boyne were laid side by side. I got her out and off at midnight.' . 'This. not so curious by any means. but he shan't have this one. and wanted cleaning. She was a treat. as poets do hearing fine verses.' 'I look. it's of a piece with your lukewarmness for the country.' said Captain Con. they all but leapt upon one another. as a newer pipe of grosser manufacture. I got myself into a passion 'fore I let loose. entered into rivalry.' said the captain. "Mika! you did it in cold blood?" And says Mika. by the mere fact of their being proximate. She acknowledged the merits of my whisky.' 'Your opposition to the Saxon would rob him of his pipe.' 'You run great risks. "What!" says the good father.' 'Not a bit of it!' 'Look at the clay. I'd stamp my heel on the humbug the neighbour minute. The captain judicially decided the case against the English pipe. 'Where's the sign of English marks?' 'The pipes resemble one another.' Philip observed. 'I do.' said Philip. if you want historical evidence. and scanned as he twirled it on his thumb. The whole intrigue was exquisitely managed.' 'If I thought that.

though he admits the antagonism. The Englishman has an island mind.' Captain Con scrutinised them to calm his temper: 'there's a Dutchiness in the shape. saying: 'Don't hurt them. 'I repeat my words. and now throwing off the mask. and when he's out of it he's at sea. you mean. They're incapable of understanding a complaint a yard beyond their noses.'Not a toss-up of difference is to be seen in the pair. traitors never did mischief in Ireland! Why. They tell us over here we ought to be satisfied. 'But will Philip O'Donnell tell me that Ireland should lie down with England on the terms of a traveller obliged to take a bedfellow? Come! He hasn't an answer. You can only move them by popping at them over hedges and roaring on platforms. The Irish bowl is broken. Good Lord!--love? The love of Ireland for the conquering country will be the celebrated ceremony in the concluding chapter previous to the inauguration of the millennium. and the pipes would have mingled their fragments on the hearthstone if Patrick had not stayed his arm. and unable to manage his craft. late of the staff of the General commanding in Canada. 'You've the heart of a renegade-foreigner not to see it!' cried the captain. and we won't leave it to the Saxon to think about giving it. and that 's possible.' 'Use your eyes. and we'll have it. Philip. and you'll behold me in a new attitude. and when he's out of it he's at sea.' his cousin flung back.' the captain shook his hand gratefully. and you pose him. Fall upon our list of wrongs. Wipe out our grievances. Thousands of us are in a starving state at home this winter. and the English has an inch longer stem!' 'O the Irish bowl is broken!' Philip sang. And Ireland is asked to lie down with England on a couch blessed by the priest! Not she. 'You'll find more craft in him when he's buffeted than you reckoned on. But he 'll not stir. and then we'll begin to talk of policy. We want freedom. 'And if that isn't the speech of a traitor sold to the enemy. Patrick intervened saying: 'I suspect they're Dutch. Put it to him.' 'And I won't. and it's too late in the day for half and half oratory.' 'The Irishman too has an island mind.' 'Mad. but it was not accepted.' said Philip. The fellow yawns! You don't know me yet.' He offered Philip the compromise of 'Dutch' rather plaintively. and they set to work yawning. what can you discover to admire in these people? Isn't . Captain Philip O'Donnell. then I will. And if your brother Philip won't accept this blazing fine offer. And it's not the fault of England?--landlordism 's not? Who caused the ruin of all Ireland's industries? You might as well say that it 's the fault of the poor beggar to go limping and hungry because his cruel master struck him a blow to cripple him. Patrick. We don't want half and half doctoring.' said Philip.' 'Well.

and never saw there. The drill they 've had hasn't driven Hodge out of them. but setting. I can't wait. 'The tinkler it is!' he sighed. in a fit of generosity! Ireland all over! I must hurry and wash my hair. like pot-house churls daring the dursn't to come on. and Patrick wore an artful look. Phil and Pat?' 'Oh. And their Horse Guards. and we'll bloom again.' He turned and informed his company: 'Her hand'll take an hour to warm. Sit still. He groaned: 'I must go. and the muscles of their calves depending on the joints to get 'm along. and I don't often spy a spark where there isn't soon a blaze. and once off it won't stop. Be quiet!' he bellowed at the alarum. 'What 's that row going on?' Patrick also called attention to the singular noise in the room. Solidity and stupidity have had their innings: a precious long innings it has been. She's the worthiest woman alive. I haven't heard the tinkler for months. 'I fancy the time for the Celt is not dawning. 'But it can't be midnight yet?' Watches were examined. Don't be in such a fright. the time for the Celt is dawning: I see it. And this contrivance for fetching me from my tower to her bed was my own suggestion. Captain Con gazed in that direction incredulously and with remonstrance. 'tis the secret of my happiness. 'Your hand'll take an hour to warm if you keep it out on the spring that sets the creature going. Off with our shackles! We've only to determine it to be free. Who said no? But they 're not the only ones: and they 'll miss their ranks before they can march like our Irish lads. and dolt won't do any longer. and their bearskins heeling behind on their polls. 'I 'm coming. Follow me! Will ye join in the toast to the emblem of Erin-the shamrock. I never saw out of a doll-shop. The thing called circulation's unknown to her save by the aid of outward application. Time stood at half-past the midnight. It signifies she's cold in her bed. I'll be thinking of ye while I'm warming her. weedy to a man! fit for a doll-shop they are. Of course they can fight. CHAPTER X THE BROTHERS . by my faith! And their Foot Guards: Have ye met the fellows marching? with their feet turned out. flat as my laundress's irons. Dear! how she runs ahead: d' ye hear? That's the female tongue. the military machine requires intelligence in all ranks now. with a sharp smile. for elasticity never gave those bones of theirs a springing touch. politely. I'm her husband and her Harvey in one. with their yellow facings on red jackets. and now they're shoved aside like clods of earth from the risin flower. Good-night. Goodbye to my hop and skip.' said Philip. it has only stiffened the dolt. I ought by rights to have been down beside her at midnight. and I 'm the warming pan.' he admonished it as his wife. A corner of the room was guilty of the incessant alarum. Ay. as legitimately I should be. certainly. and I'll be the first to speak the word and mount the colours. and I don't shirk my duty.their army such a combination of colours in the uniforms.' said Philip. The look of their men in line is for all the world to us what lack-lustre is to the eye.' He fled. for she can't bear a perfume to kill a stink. Patrick struck his knee on hearing the expected ballad-burden recur. she carries her charitable heart that far. my dear.

who tramped across Connaught for young Dermot to have a sight of you before he died. At the conclusion. and were often seen cutting the ball. they bring feeling to the test. showing a wider pattern of the long square head and the forehead. They have it. The house is a fine old house: lonely. he showed sensibility. They were of an equal height. and whose frame was leopardlike in indolence. Philip's eyes were large on the pent of his brows. which lends itself to feeling and imagination. Never mind why you went: I think I see. animated both to speak it and to render it what comes within their scope. or of the gentleness acceptable as an equivalent. Besides Patrick came nearer to them. Eyes of that quality are the visible mind. Beside him Patrick seemed cubbish. . I suppose. Philip was lost in thought. Adister receive you?' Patrick described the first interview. 'Yes.' 'What is it Con O'Donnell proposes to you?' Patrick asked him earnestly. You're the Patrick of fourteen. 'Give us a hug. His eyelids had to do with the look of his eyes. livelier nostrils: the nostrils dilated and contracted. He used to fence excellently. those are some of his ideas: gentlemen are to excel in the knightly exercises. nervously braced from head to foot. relating to South America. liquid. and. whose movements were precise and prompt. 'Tell us of your welcome. Not the less was Philip the one to inspire the deeper and the wilder passion. and the report that a certain one of us is true as steel. in action. tall young men. Patrick's mouth had to be studied for an additional index to the character. unshaded direct. the man himself. Men would have thought Patrick the slippery one of the two: women would have inclined to confide in him the more thoroughly. with the differences between soldier and civilian marked by the succintly military bearing of the elder brother. You and I might do that.--without the design upon the original owner of the soil! Irishmen are better out of Europe. The Jesuit seminary would have been hard for him to swallow once. poor lad. but were a fanciful sketch of the same design. and he was a good horseman. open. and they deem it auspicious of goodness. must be unanimous at a propitious hour to assure them completely that the steel is not two-edged in the fully formed nature of a man whom they have not tried. Philip mused over it. His features were not so brilliantly regular. How did Mr. a wavering at the dip of the nose. they were as a sword-blade lying beside book. unless they enter one of the Continental services. They are more at home with the unformed. and the hug was given. alert. he raised his head and said: 'Not so foolish as it struck you.' said Philip. and were exceeding alive. To symbolise them. Patrick.'Con has learnt one secret. They were full. Patrick went up to him. quitting his chair.' Patrick spoke of Caroline Adister and pursued his narrative. 'So you've been down there?' said Philip. though beside another he would not have appeared so. and quick with the fire in him.' he said. and do not so much read a print as read the imprinting on themselves.

Better I than he. fourthly. which are an essential part of the housing. I haven't an independence. What should I be saying in Parliament?' 'Is Con at all likely. Would you care to try it?' 'If I'm no wiser after two or three years of the world I mean to make a better acquaintance with.' Patrick replied. I should be boiling with the rest.'To be a speaking trumpet in Parliament. not above two hundred a year.' 'Isn't he serious about it?' 'Quite. fifthly. 'It's only the name of union now. supposing it a concession that is asked of them. He warms her. and thrive. Oh! shiver politics. that he enjoys his luxuries and is ashamed of his laziness. it might be made for the sake of what our people would do to strengthen the nation. There must be one. or one of his warm impulses. say.' 'I'll make it a thousand. and I'm sorry for it. and I should make a worse of it--at least for myself. Your humorous rogue is not half so taking. in spite of the rolling waves between. I never could go half way.' said Philip. you know. Thirdly. sitting here. I fancy. as far as possible. and the lot would be safe to fall on him. and she to moderate the severity of her principles. who would get on well enough. and their rules. with Europe in this pickle.' 'Friendship. One day a fit of pride may have him. and whether that's the weaker part I can't at present decide. I shall grieve for the secret. But they won't try to understand our people. and if he's taken in the tide of it. Con would be the porpoise in a fish tank there. union. and that will be the fun. They came together. and she houses him.' 'Secondly. Their laws. My taste is for quiet farming and breeding. I would not willingly see the union disturbed. if they were properly consulted. because they were near together. Philip?' 'He might: and become the burlesque Irishman of the House.' 'Wouldn't the secret of his happiness interfere?' 'If he has the secret inside his common sense. 'that is. once there. if my people can pay.' 'You like his wife. I wish . So I say. We ought to be a solid square. Patrice.--I suppose. I don't want to give up my profession.' said Patrick. inscrutably busy on his errand and watched for his tumblings. A serious fellow talking nonsense with lively illustrations. if the terms are fair. their systems are forced on a race of an opposite temper. They have my feelings. Ireland 's the sore place of England. This idea of a commencement gives me a view of the finish. Philip?' 'I respect her. like the two islands. do you think. sacrifice. and so the secret pulls both ways. and part of my judgement. 'Over there at home one catches the fever. And he has to control the hot blood that does the warming. And to put it first among the objections. is just the man for House of Commons clown. The bulk of it I suspect to be.

Miss Caroline. The way to begin to think so. whether they were disaffected or not. I wish I did. But our early training has us. in case of the other one getting damaged. That's only fair. The sensation's not unpleasant when it's other than a question of good taste. is to do them an injury and forget it.' Philip added. When I landed the other day. and a contented Irishman scarcely seems my countryman. 'It was the only thing I could get. Adister sends it. Mr. 'We may be all in the wrong. Patrice.' 'I suppose it 's like what I hear of as digesting with difficulty. And it 's to be kept carefully. and claptrap the springboard to send us diving into it.' 'That he might do. I thought myself passably cured. it comes on us again.' said Philip: it was a lesser thing than to send her likeness to him. I burn to live in brotherhood with them. The young lady. My chief is right--soldiers have nothing to do with them. Philip was a Spartan for keeping his feelings under. but they always do: these tales of starvations and shootings. They think more of the big portrait: I don't. Patrice. and I could have met Irishmen and felt to them as an Irishman. act on me like a smell of powder.' Patrick referred to the state described by his brother. all the old work just as when I left.' said Patrick. I like my comrades-in-arms. What are you fiddling at in your coat there?' 'Something for you.' Philip drank in the face upon a swift shot of his eyes. I don't let him see it. . you give me shudders!' 'And it's her guest who talks of her in that style! and I hope to be thought a gentleman!' Philip pulled himself up.I had been bred in France: a couple of years with your Pere Clement. I was dipped in "Ireland for the Irish". seconded me. I declare to you. and could have said that rhetoric is the fire-water of our country. and the men too--I get on well with them.' Patrick brought out the miniature. But politics to bed. He held it for his brother to look. 'It would be the secret of our happiness to discover how to make the best of it. not a rift of division at heart! I never show them that there is one. 'With a frozen fish of admirable principles for wife. 'And not the most agreeable of food.' said Philip. my dear Philip. 'Ah. I like the character of British officers. if we had to pay penance for the discovery by living in an Esquimaux shanty. three or four days with Con have stirred me. 'And an invitation to you to visit him when you please. 'Mr. Patrick could not help dropping his voice: 'Isn't it very like?' For answer the miniature had to be inspected closely. Adister sends it?' His tone implied wonder at such a change in Adiante's father.

' Did you say.' 'Not St. madam?' Patrick inquired. His brother had not touched it. She communicated it:'The Princess Nikolas has a son!' Captain Con tossed his newspaper to the floor. 'And the military holloaing for reinforcements. 'Precautionary measures. on the plea that it might prevent his brother from having his proper share of sleep. that Philip had no great pleasure in the possession of it. I suppose it resembles her as she is now. Philip had ten words of mandate from his commanding officer. buckled tight and buttoned up over his private sentiments. Adister O'Donnell. crying: 'To-day the city'll be a chimney on fire. George's Channel.' exclaimed Con. You 're an odd fellow to have asked for it. Adister. or was when it was painted. Patrick laid it there.' Philip checked the departing Patrick. and also. with the step of a decorous office-clerk. and they signified action. He was the soldier at once. It's hen and chicks with the director of a City Company. uncertain where. of course. Philip. We'll cross the Channel in a few days. however. after an interval quick with fiery touches on the history of that face and his life. and see the nest. Light those candles we'll go to bed. when it's to stop them from seeing you. I want a cool head for such brains as I have.' he said. 'A son. and he went straight to the door in an odd silence. The likeness is not bad. CHAPTER XI INTRODUCING A NEW CHARACTER Letters and telegrams and morning journals lay on the breakfast-table.'Yes.' was Philip's answer. I must go. and the mother. and the girls.' He made a sign for the miniature to be left on the table. of course. Vienna shot a line to Mrs. 'You can leave that.' 'You're a good boy. They are the features. She and the girls hope you will keep out of Ireland for a time: it's hot. Bad news from Ireland came upon ominous news from India. keeping his shoulders turned on Philip to conceal his look of destitution. awaiting the members of the household with combustible matter. but I must go down. Patrice.' 'I thought you would wish to have it. eh?' . did not make one harmonious apology. 'Older. and bumping the pillow all night is not exactly wholesome. dear boy. and he could have defended himself for having forgotten to leave it. with the blacks in everybody's faces. 'Pheu! Phil!' 'That's what it comes to. Judge if they're anxious. The two pleas. Mother would rather you would go to France and visit the De Reuils.' said Mrs. Philip!' 'Good-night.

as you pretty clearly hinted.' The captain appeared to be computing. to a certainty. bacon delicately thin and curling like Apollo's locks at his temples. to ballast me. adding. thick as lead. but here's my company you would have me join for the directoring of it. my dear. and while she's fighting on it's her poor business to be putting herself together again: So she makes a mess of the beginning.' he said to his wife to pay her a . my dear?' His wife replied: 'A son. for the sake of our families. to Patrick: 'I entertain the opinion that a sound breakfastappetite testifies to the proper vigour of men. anchovies in the state of oil. except that it does no good to be singing it at the only time when you can show her the consequences of her sluggery. and they add to the lump on Barney's back.'You can make them provocative.' Captain Con winked at his guests.' 'What a country!' sighed the captain.' 'Have we got men?' 'Always the question with us. Adister remarked. I'd offer to run to Earlsfont. like the crossing of t's and dotting of i's.' said her sympathetic husband.' 'Do you not observe that your cousins are not eating?' said his wife. and a child of some sort must have been expected? Because it's no miracle after marriage: worse luck for the crowded earth!' 'Things may not be expected which are profoundly distasteful. begging them to steal ten minutes out of the fray for the inward fortification of them. 'Like an Irishman in clover. and sour to boot. 'But this one's out of England: and it's a prince I suppose they'll call him: and princes don't count in the population for more than finishing touches. you know. and masses of eggs. like some flowers and feathers.' 'Will you beg for India?' 'I shall hear in an hour.' 'Better than a doctor's pass: and to their habits likewise. And a howl and growl coming off the wilds of Old Ireland! We're smitten to-day in our hearts and our pockets. were pressed with the captain's fervid illustrations upon the brothers. Eggs in the shell. though true they're the costliest. both meditatively nibbling toast and indifferent to the similes he drew and applied to life from the little fish which had their sharpness corrected but not cancelled by the improved liquid they swam in. But who has any compassion for a burdened donkey? unless when you see him standing immortal meek! Well.' Mrs. 'I'd compose ye a song of old Drowsylid.' 'Ah! more births.--A boy or girl did you say. A country of compromise goes to pieces at the first cannon-shot of the advance. 'True. caviar. and it 's a question where we ought to feel it most. and all 's in the city to-day like a loaf with bad yeast. If it weren't that she had the army of Neptune about her--' 'The worst is she may some day start awake to discover that her protecting deity 's been napping too. and cutlets. ''Tis like reading the list of the dead after a battle where you've not had the best of it--each name 's a startling new blow.

afresh healthy girl. and has a welcome face there. It's fun about Colonel Arthur not going.' Her mind was on her brother Edward. and it 'll much resemble a colliery accident there. my dear. where the winds of panic are violently engaged in occupying the vacuum created by knocking over what the disaster left standing. She will break it to her uncle. For the same reason. and she sympathises with her brother Edward made a grandfather through the instrumentality of that foreign hooknose. 'Arthur must be here.' she said. Adieu. so her husband said: 'Take Patrick for a secretary. and Patrick must turn the two dagger sentiments to a sort of love-knot and there's the task he'll have to work out in his letter to Miss Caroline. Patrick placed himself at Mrs. 'You must know the family. and a rescue of dead bodies. who has gold on her crown and a lot on her treasury. straight to the understanding. But. She's fond of Adiante. bad news is best communicated by telegraph. She hates writing. And a nice girl. and comes better from wires. on the part of a lady I 've never known to be wrong! And so. with impulse to act the thing he was imagining. 'I recommended the telegraph because it's my wife's own style. and there's nothing more offensive to us when we're hurt at intelligence. Dictate.' said Mrs. . Colonel Arthur couldn't go. "Deeds not words" would serve for their motto. as they were putting on their overcoats in the hall. 'And there is to-morrow's dinner-party to the Mattocks: I cannot travel to Earlsfont. madam. since you'll want him to meet the Mattocks?' Captain Con's underlip shone with a roguish thinness. to hurry down to the tormented intestines of that poor racked city. and he might go. 'Patrick is a disengaged young verderer." That tells it all.' She gazed at Patrick as if to intimate that he might be enlisted. a prize. as her husband wooed her to do. I suspect. my boy! but I'm bound in honour not to propose it.' said the captain. which gives us no stupid articles and particles to quarrel with. Pat 'll lengthen her sentences for her. Adister's disposal as her secretary.' 'Right. and she could not look sweet-oily. He's to meet the burning Miss Mattock. and said: 'It will be to Caroline.' He pressed his lips on her thin fingers. Phil. "Boy born Vienna doctor smiling nurse laughing. I must take leave of you. and knows the route.compliment and coax an acknowledgement: 'just the flavour of the salt of him.' She was asking to be assisted. if you're for having it performed by word of mouth. my dear. 'I cannot bring myself to write it. Adister. I disapprove of telegrams. without any sickly circumlocutory stuff. trust me. and doesn't much love talking. my dear. He has a bold free hand and'll supply all the fiorituri and arabesques necessary to the occasion running. She nodded a gracious acceptance of him.

it must be a blow now and then for these people over here. and physician and politician are agreed it's good for him to do it. who sprang from the wedding of a spade and a clod--and probably called himself Mattock at his birth. It all came from the wedding of a railway contractor. Dr. but he can count seven. I'll see Distell too. of a score or two of us if we have a wrestle with him. which I've heard is lighter for a beggar to perform than in pounds. of course. Phil?' 'I 'm under orders.' 'And why not?--inside the law. so long as you admit that the law is bad. I know a little of Dick Martin. or I'm agitated about nothing. Law's law. good at most things. and life's life.and brains: the very girl! But she's jotted down for the Adisters.' 'While your Barney skirmishes outside!' 'And when the poor fellow's cranium's cracking to fling his cap in the air. and you'd spread a light of justice. if he calls himself Law. who 's a mighty fit man. Phil: and you must allow for the roundabout way of moving to get into the straight road at last. And I see what you're for saying: a roundabout eye won't find it! You're wrong where there are dozens of .' 'I'm in for the pull if I join hands. On the bright horizon shining. 'Let them play Vesuvius down there. and where injustice rules. and the same you may say of her brother John. Phil. though he counts his fortune in millions." Will you come.' 'You won't engage yourself by coming. it's big misery and chronic disease to let it be and at worst a jump and tumble into the next world.' said Con. Her name's plain Jane. or he'll go mad and be a dangerous lunatic! Phil. I must know if it signifies the trigger. who called on the people to resist. and I'm off to Peter M'Christy.' 'You're for the city. "For we march in ranks to the laurelled banks. I've got another in me: and I can't stop their eruption. and they wouldn't relish mine. She's one to be a mother of stout ones that won't run up big doctors' bills or ask assistance in growing. Forbery'll be able to tell how far they mean going for a patriotic song. for they've got heads that open only to hard raps. and beat any of us easy by showing them millions! We might do something for them at home with a million or two. his brother-in-law. That 's how we dust the corruption out of him for a bite or two in return. if Colonel Arthur can look lower than his nose and wag his tongue a bit. Though the fields between run red on the green. no shame to him. Such is humanity. and she 's a girl to breed conquerors. 'Not I. a certain lot of us must give up the ghost--naturally on both sides. these English. And many a wife goes pining. Bother his wig. and housed the man Liffey after his firing the shot. and in that case. else there's no teaching their imaginations you're in earnest. But shake the old villain. hang on him and shake him.' said Philip. after they had walked down the street.

Mr. since it's my cousin. Mattock--and opportunely. the opposite Pole. of whom you've heard. And here's Mr. 'But it's a question about packing cannon and small arms.' Philip bowed to a man whose n otion of the ceremony was to nod. John Mattock himself. a thorough stout Briton and bulldog for the national integrity. She'll keep her money and nurse her babe. 'No. previous to your meeting at my wife's table tomorrow evening. his pilot coat. 'it's for another place and harder to get at. He stood facing his cousin with a close-lipped smile that summarised his opinion and made it readable. No one could express a negative more emphatically without wording it.' he said. Phil. Mattock listened attentively the first half-minute. by the by. fresh from Canada. I suspect. though he neither frowned nor gesticulated to that effect. but makes itself a mirror to the same. nor wink to it. could you give us a hint for packing five or six hundred rifles and a couple of pieces of cannon?' Philip stared. 'I have no time for an introduction to her this morning. or in other words a Saxon's mind made up on a point of common sense. who'll corroborate me. and a Liberal though a landlord. The colour of a sandpit was given him by hair and whiskers of yellow-red on a ruddy face. Captain Philip O'Donnell. as far as we can let you into the secret before we've consulted together. 'Ah!' said Con. from hereditary inclination. How d' ye do. would have you go on picking at the Gordian Knot till it became a jackasses' race between you and the rope which was to fall to pieces last. It's not even a substitution of one form of Government for another: only a change of despots. a general airiness of style on a solid frame. The matter's innocent. 'No. he bent a lowering frown on his cousin.' He was eyed suspiciously and he vowed the military weapons were for another destination entirely. 'And I think I'm of your opinion: and the sea no longer dashes at the rock. 'Oh! easy!' Con answered the look. And he's an Englishman and a member of Parliament. poor soul! See her!' Philip had signalled a cabman to stop. 'You won't drop in on Distell to hear the latest brewing? And. Con took him two steps aside and did all the talking. you wouldn't be in for a crazy villainy like that!' said Philip. spoke of the element his blue eyes had dipped their fancy in.--There 's my old girl at the stall. and you might be useful in dropping a hint or two. His appearance was redolently marine. and not be trying risky adventures to turn him into a .corners. Mr.' said Con. flying necktie and wideish trowsers. tell us. with a twitch at his mouth. after which it could be perceived that the orator was besieging a post. abruptly coming to an end after an eloquent appeal. I'd like to make you acquainted with. aide-de-camp to Sir Charles. not likely to play at arms and ammunition where his country's prosperity 's concerned. my boy. Logic like yours.

and if you say a thing can be done it 's done. if she were here to repeat the dose. pooh poohs the whole affair. and he was ready to fill the place of the prince at the head of his phantom body of horse and foot and elsewhere. You saw him. She'll not take it from any of us. the devoted slave of the Princess Nikolas. and he enters Parliament. and a chivalrous gentleman to boot. and the first field or two. nodding and passing on his way. and he waits his turn. mind you.' 'The country hasn't a port. and Captain Con sang out his dinner-hour for a reminder to punctuality. her sole comfort lying in the straw is the prospect of a bloody venture for a throne. . under the noses of the authorities. A bit of a scrimmage on the landing-pier may be. they say. 'That I am not so sure of.' 'But it's rank idiocy to suppose she can smuggle cannon!' cried Philip. Grave as an owl. Sometimes a trumpet blown by impudence does it alone. for she believes he can do anything.' Philip signalled to his driver. to my thinking. and I 'm taking the view of her disappointment. Let them make acquaintance with Adiante Adister. and if I know the witch. But the poor girl has ordered her estates to be sold to cast the die. She can work one. it's the only thing she has to help her to stomach her husband. Two pieces of artillery and two or three hundred men and a trumpet alter the face of the land there. the dead contrary of his former self!' 'I thought I heard you approve him. and then he sits himself. Phil.' 'The reverse too. She looks on you as Wisdom in the uniform of a great commander. We talked of his selling her estates for the purchase of arms and the enemy--as many as she had money for. the man who solemnly calculated her chances and speculates on the transmission of rifled arms of the best manufacture and latest invention by his yacht and with his loads of rails. The truth is. and now. He'd been there on his father's business about one of the Danube railways. He's promised a good reception when he drops down the river. I could rather enjoy the adventure. I hope.reigning prince. Only this: you'll have to persuade her the thing is impossible.' said Philip. We discussed it as a matter of business. thoughtful of the feelings of his wife.' 'Round the Euxine and up the Danube. They're enthusiastic for any new prince. And her prince is called for. 'And I do.' Con remarked to himself. And it 's proof he was under a spell. 'But that man Mattock's not an idiot and he thought she could. I'd not swear she wouldn't lay fast hold of them. with the British flag at the stern. that man came from Vienna. he inherits. He's their Weekly Journal or Monthly Magazine. But in the interim his father dies. like a master rebel. The people change their sovereigns as rapidly as a London purse. I don't doubt. 'There's a change in a man through a change in his position! Six months or so back. Mattock.' said Mr. She had bewitched him: and would again.

a beautiful woman with brains The race is for domestic peace. and I had to take her shaped as she was Men must fight: the law is only a quieter field for them Mika! you did it in cold blood? No man can hear the words which prove him a prophet (quietly) Not so much read a print as read the imprinting on themselves Not to bother your wits.ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: A contented Irishman scarcely seems my countryman A country of compromise goes to pieces at the first cannon-shot A lady's company-smile A superior position was offered her by her being silent And it's one family where the dog is pulled by the collar Arch-devourer Time As if she had never heard him previously enunciate the formula As secretive as they are sensitive Be politic and give her elbow-room for her natural angles Becoming air of appropriation that made it family history Constitutionally discontented Decency's a dirty petticoat in the Garden of Innocence England's the foremost country of the globe Enjoys his luxuries and is ashamed of his laziness Fires in the grates went through the ceremony of warming nobody Foist on you their idea of your idea at the moment Grimaces at a government long-nosed to no purpose He judged of others by himself Hear victorious lawlessness appealing solemnly to God the law Her aspect suggested the repose of a winter landscape Here. as legitimately I should be I detest enthusiasm I never saw out of a doll-shop. and they nurse the venom That fiery dragon. and never saw there Indirect communication with heaven Ireland 's the sore place of England Irishman there is a barrow trolling a load of grievances Irony in him is only eulogy standing on its head Lack of precise words admonished him of the virtue of silence Married at forty. poor t' other must Winds of panic are violently engaged in occupying the vacuum With a frozen fish of admirable principles for wife Withdrew into the entrenchments of contempt You'll tell her you couldn't sit down in her presence undressed [The End] . like our physicians Philip was a Spartan for keeping his feelings under Taste a wound from the lightest touch. but leave the puzzle to the priest Old houses are doomed to burnings Our lawyers have us inside out. and generally by our own weapon We're smitten to-day in our hearts and our pockets Welsh blood is queer blood Where one won't and can't. where he both wished and wished not to be I 'm the warming pan. my boy We're all of us hit at last.

XII. Thus. D. MARS CONVALESCENT CHAPTER XII MISS MATTOCK Mrs. we usually do not keep etexts in compliance with any particular paper edition. THE MATTOCK FAMILY XVI. to conceive an idea disconnected with the main theme of . BULL AND THE CELTIC AND SAXON VIEW OF HIM: AND SOMETHING OF RICHARD ROCKNEY XVII. CAPTAIN CON'S LETTER X1X. or pointers. had an extreme dislike of the task of composing epistles. CROSSING THE RUBICON XVIII. OF ROCKNEY XV. Please read this important information. unaided. in common with her family. This etext was produced by David Widger [NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks. The "legal small print" and other information about this book may now be found at the end of this file.The Celt and Saxon. Adister O'Donnell. THE DINNER-PARTY XIV. all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US unless a copyright notice is included. at the end of the file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an entire meal of them.] CELT AND SAXON By George Meredith 1910 BOOK 2. OF THE GREAT MR. MISS MATTOCK XIII. due to the circumstance that she was unable.W. as it gives you specific rights and tells you about restrictions in how the file may be used. v2 by George Meredith editions.

her communication, and regarded, as an art of conjuring, the use of words independent of ideas. Her native superiority caused her to despise the art, but the necessity for employing it at intervals subjected her to fits of admiration of the conjurer, it being then evident that a serviceable piece of work, beyond her capacity to do, was lightly performed by another. The lady's practical intelligence admitted the service, and at the same time her addiction to the practical provoked disdain of so flimsy a genius, which was identified by her with the genius of the Irish race. If Irishmen had not been notoriously fighters, famous for their chivalry, she would have looked on them as a kind of footmen hired to talk and write, whose volubility might be encouraged and their affectionateness deserved by liberal wages. The promptitude of Irish blood to deliver the war-cry either upon a glove flung down or taken up, raised them to a first place in her esteem: and she was a peaceful woman abhorring sanguinary contention; but it was in her own blood to love such a disposition against her principles. She led Patrick to her private room, where they both took seats and he selected a pen. Mr. Patrick supposed that his business would be to listen and put her words to paper; a mechanical occupation permitting the indulgence of personal phantasies; and he was flying high on them until the extraordinary delicacy of the mind seeking to deliver itself forced him to prick up all his apprehensiveness. She wished to convey that she was pleased with the news from Vienna, and desired her gratification to be imparted to her niece Caroline, yet not so as to be opposed to the peculiar feelings of her brother Edward, which had her fullest sympathy; and yet Caroline must by no means be requested to alter a sentence referring to Adiante, for that would commit her and the writer jointly to an insincerity. 'It must be the whole truth, madam,' said Patrick, and he wrote: 'My dear Caroline,' to get the start. At once a magnificently clear course for the complicated letter was distinguished by him. 'Can I write on and read it to you afterward? I have the view,' he said. Mrs. Adister waved to him to write on. Patrick followed his 'My dear Caroline' with greetings very warm, founded on a report of her flourishing good looks. The decision of Government to send reinforcements to Ireland was mentioned as a prelude to the information from Vienna of the birth of a son to the Princess Nikolas: and then; having conjoined the two entirely heterogeneous pieces of intelligence, the composer adroitly interfused them by a careless transposition of the prelude and the burden that enabled him to play ad libitum on regrets and rejoicings; by which device the lord of Earlsfont might be offered condolences while the lady could express her strong contentment, inasmuch as he deplored the state of affairs in the sister island, and she was glad of a crisis concluding a term of suspense thus the foreign-born baby was denounced and welcomed, the circumstances lamented and the mother congratulated, in a breath, all under cover of the happiest misunderstanding, as effective as the cabalism of Prospero's wand among the Neapolitan mariners, by the skilful Irish development on a grand scale of the rhetorical figure anastrophe, or a turning about and about. He read it out to her, enjoying his composition and pleased with his reconcilement of differences. 'So you say what you feel yourself, madam,

and allow for the feelings on the other side,' he remarked. 'Shall I fold it? There was a smoothness in the letter particularly agreeable to her troubled wits, but with an awful taste. She hesitated to assent: it seemed like a drug that she was offered. Patrick sketched a series of hooked noses on the blotter. He heard a lady's name announced at the door, and glancing up from his work he beheld a fiery vision. Mrs. Adister addressed her affectionately: 'My dear Jane!' Patrick was introduced to Miss Mattock. His first impression was that the young lady could wrestle with him and render it doubtful of his keeping his legs. He was next engaged in imagining that she would certainly burn and be a light in the dark. Afterwards he discovered her feelings to be delicate, her looks pleasant. Thereupon came one of the most singular sensations he had ever known: he felt that he was unable to see the way to please her. She confirmed it by her remarks and manner of speaking. Apparently she was conducting a business. 'You're right, my dear Mrs. Adister, I'm on my way to the Laundry, and I called to get Captain Con to drive there with me and worry the manageress about the linen they turn out: for gentlemen are complaining of their shirt-fronts, and if we get a bad name with them it will ruin us. Women will listen to a man. I hear he has gone down to the city. I must go and do it alone. Our accounts are flourishing, I'm glad to say, though we cannot yet afford to pay for a secretary, and we want one. John and I verified them last night. We're aiming at steam, you know. In three or four years we may found a steam laundry on our accumulated capital. If only we can establish it on a scale to let us give employment to at least as many women as we have working now! That is what I want to hear of. But if we wait for a great rival steam laundry to start ahead of us, we shall be beaten and have to depend on the charitable sentiments of rich people to support the Institution. And that won't do. So it's a serious question with us to think of taking the initiative: for steam must come. It 's a scandal every day that it doesn't while we have coal. I'm for grand measures. At the same time we must not be imprudent: turning off hands, even temporarily, that have to feed infants, would be quite against my policy.' Her age struck Patrick as being about twenty-three. 'Could my nephew Arthur be of any use to you?' said Mrs. Adister. 'Colonel Adister?' Miss Mattock shook her head. 'No.' 'Arthur can be very energetic when he takes up a thing.' 'Can he? But, Mrs. Adister, you are looking a little troubled. Sometimes you confide in me. You are so good to us with your subscriptions that I always feel in your debt.' Patrick glanced at his hostess for a signal to rise and depart. She gave none, but at once unfolded her perplexity, and requested Miss

Mattock to peruse the composition of Mr. Patrick O'Donnell and deliver an opinion upon it. The young lady took the letter without noticing its author. She read it through, handed it back, and sat with her opinion evidently formed within. 'What do you think of it?' she was asked. 'Rank jesuitry,' she replied. 'I feared so!' sighed Mrs. Adister. 'Yet it says everything I wish to have said. It spares my brother and it does not belie me. The effect of a letter is often most important. I cannot but consider this letter very ingenious. But the moment I hear it is jesuitical I forswear it. But then my dilemma remains. I cannot consent to give pain to my brother Edward: nor will I speak an untruth, though it be to save him from a wound. I am indeed troubled. Mr. Patrick, I cannot consent to despatch a jesuitical letter. You are sure of your impression, my dear Jane?' 'Perfectly,' said Miss Mattock. Patrick leaned to her. 'But if the idea in the mind of the person supposed to be writing the letter is accurately expressed? Does it matter, if we call it jesuitical, if the emotion at work behind it happens to be a trifle so, according to your definition?' She rejoined: 'I should say, distinctly it matters.' 'Then you'd not express the emotions at all?' He flashed a comical look of astonishment as he spoke. She was not to be diverted; she settled into antagonism. 'I should write what I felt.' 'But it might be like discharging a bullet.' 'How?' 'If your writing in that way wounded the receiver.' 'Of course I should endeavour not to wound!' 'And there the bit of jesuitry begins. And it's innocent while it 's no worse than an effort to do a disagreeable thing as delicately as you can.' She shrugged as delicately as she could: 'We cannot possibly please everybody in life.' 'No: only we may spare them a shock: mayn't we?' 'Sophistries of any description, I detest.' 'But sometimes you smile to please, don't you?'

'Do you detect falseness in that?' she answered, after the demurest of pauses. 'No: but isn't there a soupcon of sophistry in it?' 'I should say that it comes under the title of common civility.' 'And on occasion a little extra civility is permitted!' 'Perhaps: when we are not seeking a personal advantage.' 'On behalf of the Steam Laundry?' Miss Mattock grew restless: she was too serious in defending her position to submit to laugh, and his goodhumoured face forbade her taking offence. 'Well, perhaps, for that is in the interest of others.' 'In the interests of poor and helpless females. And I agree with you with all my heart. But you would not be so considerate for the sore feelings of a father hearing what he hates to hear as to write a roundabout word to soften bad news to him?' She sought refuge in the reply that nothing excused jesuitry. 'Except the necessities of civilisation,' said Patrick. 'Politeness is one thing,' she remarked pointedly. 'And domestic politeness is quite as needful as popular, you'll admit. And what more have we done in the letter than to be guilty of that? And people declare it's rarer: as if we were to be shut up in families to tread on one another's corns! Dear me! and after a time we should be having rank jesuitry advertised as the specific balsam for an unhappy domesticated population treading with hard heels from desperate habit and not the slightest intention to wound.' 'My dear Jane,' Mrs. Adister interposed while the young lady sat between mildly staring and blinking, 'you have, though still of a tender age, so excellent a head that I could trust to your counsel blindfolded. It is really deep concern for my brother. I am also strongly in sympathy with my niece, the princess, that beautiful Adiante: and my conscience declines to let me say that I am not.' 'We might perhaps presume to beg for Miss Mattock's assistance in the composition of a second letter more to her taste,' Patrick said slyly. The effect was prompt: she sprang from her seat. 'Dear Mrs. Adister! I leave it to you. I am certain you and Mr. O'Donnell know best. It's too difficult and delicate for me. I am horribly blunt. Forgive me if I seemed to pretend to casuistry. I am sure I had no such meaning. I said what I thought. I always do. I never meant that it was not a very clever letter; and if it does exactly what you require it should be satisfactory. To-morrow evening John and I dine with you, and I look forward to plenty of controversy and amusement.

At present I have only a head for work.' 'I wish I had that,' said Patrick devoutly. She dropped her eyes on him, but without letting him perceive that he was a step nearer to the point of pleasing her.

CHAPTER XIII THE DINNER-PARTY Miss Mattock ventured on a prediction in her mind: She was sure the letter would go. And there was not much to signify if it did. But the curious fatality that a person of such a native uprightness as Mrs. Adister should have been drawn in among Irishmen, set her thoughts upon the composer of the letter, and upon the contrast of his ingenuous look with the powerful cast of his head. She fancied a certain danger about him; of what kind she could not quite distinguish, for it had no reference to woman's heart, and he was too young to be much of a politician, and he was not in the priesthood. His transparency was of a totally different order from Captain Con's, which proclaimed itself genuine by the inability to conceal a shoal of subterfuges. The younger cousin's features carried a something invisible behind them, and she was just perceptive enough to spy it, and it excited her suspicions. Irishmen both she and her brother had to learn to like, owing to their bad repute for stability: they are, moreover, Papists: they are not given to ideas: that one of the working for the future has not struck them. In fine, they are not solid, not law-supporting, not disposed to be (humbly be it said) beneficent, like the good English. These were her views, and as she held it a weakness to have to confess that Irishmen are socially more fascinating than the good English, she was on her guard against them. Of course the letter had gone. She heard of it before the commencement of the dinner, after Mrs. Adister had introduced Captain Philip O'Donnell to her, and while she was exchanging a word or two with Colonel Adister, who stood ready to conduct her to the table. If he addressed any remarks to the lady under his charge, Miss Mattock did not hear him; and she listened--who shall say why? His unlike likeness to his brother had struck her. Patrick opposite was flowing in speech. But Captain Philip O'Donnell's taciturnity seemed no uncivil gloom: it wore nothing of that look of being beneath the table, which some of our good English are guilty of at their social festivities, or of towering aloof a Matterhorn above it, in the style of Colonel Adister. Her discourse with the latter amused her passing reflections. They started a subject, and he punctuated her observations, or she his, and so they speedily ran to earth. 'I think,' says she, 'you were in Egypt this time last winter.' He supplies her with a comma: 'Rather later.' Then he carries on the line. 'Dull enough, if you don't have the right

His wife's diplomacy in giving the heiress to Colonel Adister for the evening had received his cordial support while he manoeuvred cleverly to place Philip on the other side of her. which he has reason to wish to succeed in doing.' 'Meetings? Dorcas. And there's another opportunity . or created it.' 'Not at all. He had committed himself to speech at last.' A period perfectly rounded. for she was aware of his unhappy passion for the beautiful Miss Adister. You might join if you would. and now not a step did the senseless fellow take. due to she knew not what. and his power of containing the expression where the sentiment is imagined to be most transparent may have surprised her. she had been moved by it. the task of pursuing conversational intercourse devolves upon him 'I missed Parlatti last spring. I fancy you are indifferent to Opera. hit on some perplexity. neither languid nor frigid seeming to her both open and uninviting.sort of travelling crew in your boat. the whole story had been poured into her ears. and he is led to suppose that she has a distaste for foreign places. 'I fancy you have never been in Egypt?' 'No' There it is. What opinion have you formed of her?' 'I know her only by name at present. I was as busy then as I am now.' 'Ah. A scrutiny she could have borne. ominous of the full stop.' 'Naturally. At the same time Miss Mattock exchanged a smile with her hostess. She turned slightly to Captain O'Donnell. so forth. and as he faced the table Miss Mattock's inclination to listen attracted him.' 'Your most obliged.' she puts her semicolon. Captain Con could have thumped his platter with vexation. dead sick of her man on the right. Possibly she had expected the eyes of such a lover to betray melancholy. for the tone betrays no curiosity about Egypt and her Nile. Condescending to attempt to please. and she might have read a signification. I enjoy it. He cast his eyes on her: a quiet look. he was a burning disgrace to the chivalry of Erin. She had the oddest little shiver.' 'Not Dorcas. though she offered him his chance. She would certainly be snapped up by a man merely yawning to take the bite. not a word did he have in ordinary civility. thrilling her as melancholy orbs would not have done. but the look of those mild clear eyes which appeared to say nothing save that there was fire behind them. I assure you. without tilting his shoulders to exclude the company by devoting himself to his partner. She felt bound to look happy to gratify an excellent lady presiding over the duller half of a table of eighteen. of whose benignant designs in handing her to the entertaining officer she was not conscious.

Gallant deeds! and now Mr. capacity. for a punishment to Rockney for his carrying off to himself a flower of the Green Island and holding inveterate against her native land in his black ingratitude. until you say ten times more than you began by meaning. considering Mr. a giant. get them into any state of fluency at all. from one end of a table of eighteen to whip up the whole body of them into a lively unanimous froth. and already she's leaping to be transplanted. it was entirely a dream. by way of mental note for their friends to-morrow. and this artillery of English Rockney resounds. on the understanding that we have justice. and there was a profound politician. he could say sharp things from the heart. and not a bit to spread a general conflagration and . but these English won't take it up as a start for fresh pastures. yes: union. They laugh. John Mattock. And yet it was tempting: the recent Irish news had stung him. like powder in a mine--the same person. George's Channel. and seeing them at it in earnest. and she and Philip have a pretty wrangle. they lend their ears and laugh a finale to it. On the whole. no other than himself too. a sure deserter to the camp of the brave. There was himself. And opposite to him was Mr. Mattock's presence. Saxon though they be. and they were fairly divided and well matched. will find her patriotism dissolving in the natural human current. and it is beyond mortal. Oh! but eloquence upon a good cause will win you the hearts of all women. give neat thrusts. You cannot. a creature snow-bound up to his chin. and like one another none the worse for not agreeing: patriotically speaking. she's really unrooted by that half-thawed colonel. a worthy antagonist. And Jane Mattock there. and a vast amount of blowing even on the topic of politics. delightful to rouse. chewing the cud. in the form of a firebrand or apple of Discord. and there was an unrecognised bard of his country. profoundly hidden at present. Forbery's anecdote now and then serves its turn. excepting Rockney's wife. Politics. will stir these English to enter the arena and try a fall. Marbury Dyke opens on Forbery's flank to support Mattock hardpressed. seeing that politics alone. Then it begins to grow hot. but they laugh extinguishingly. And thereupon we debate upon union. Three heroes out skirmishing on our side. and putting a damper on the fire that does the business for them. and have heated yourself to fancy you mean more still. Indeed a goodly vision of strife and peace: but. beyond Irish. and because she hopes for complete union between the two islands.. to make tea elsewhere. and this champion could be pricked on to a point of assertion sure to fire the phlegm in Philip. and then young Patrick might be trusted to warm to the work. only he had pledged his word to his wife to shun politics as the plague.. Jane is one of the first to give her vote for the Irish party. Saxon or other. the heaviest weight of the Irish light brigade. as if they were kettles come here merely for boiling purposes. Forbery glows and couches his gun.. imbibing forced doses of Arthur Adister. for he carried big guns and took the noise of them for the shattering of the enemy. you see them dwelling on the relish. never doubt of it. she says. like a dish of cream fetched out of thickness to the airiest lightness. politics forbidden. ladies!. with a similar object: the ladies to look on and award the crown of victory. before you think of setting to work to sow the land with affection:--and that 's a crop in a clear soil will spring up harvestthick in a single summer night across St. might knead them together and cut them in batches. in spite of her love for her brother John: in common justice. should fortune frown on them.gone for the old country!--one's family to boot! Those two were in the middle of the table.

' Philip replied. it must succeed. 'You may be enjoying an original blessing that we in Ireland missed in the cradle. as through a trumpet.' 'The stainless flag'll be in the ascendant in the long run. the lady under his wing. bearing an eye on Philip. admiring Philip's head. but very bluntly. and said in sympathy: 'Is the bad news from India confirmed?' He feared it was not bright.' Miss Grace Barrow. Cousins pretend they're better than pigs. as the soldier's martial cloak when he takes his rest on the field. . Mrs. Forbery. She had a look as good as handsome when she kindled. Forbery?' the captain inquired. honoured wife of the chairman of his imagined that a sigh escaped him. and called to Philip for the latest. and answered dead as a newspaper telegraphic paragraph. and there an end. 'Your nephew is quite the diplomatist.' said Mrs. observed to Dr. The captain persevered to draw his cousin out. You can't get them to grunt more than is exactly agreeable to them.illumination. She emphasised: 'I speak of the just cause. 'There's a harp or two in it. Mrs. Philip spoke to Miss Mattock: he was questioned and he answered.' Con groaned. distinctly from afar. The case appeared hopeless to Captain Con.' he responded pacifically. ma'am. Jane Mattock's fellow-worker and particular friend. 'Your chief has his orders?' 'There's a rumour to that effect.' he assented. 'Nothing that you have not had already in the newspapers. Dyke. Dyke was not pleased with the tone. He surveyed his inanimate eights right and left. 'Cousin. Miss Mattock was attentive. and folded his combative ardour around him. Marbury Dyke. 'And never will be out of it!' she thumped her interjection.' 'The fellow's training for diplomacy.' said he. 'Is it the flag of Great Britain you're speaking of. and diverge bounding from the road at the hint of the stick. Nephews I might drive to any market to make the most of them. presenting simply the corpse of the fact.' 'My belief is that if our cause is just our flag will triumph. He was a rival of Arthur Adister for military brevity.

'One thing. and he agreed with her.' a solemn dupe.'Or where 's your music?' said the captain. Nevertheless. 'You'd be having to mount your drum and fife in their places. and they follow him. to show that he knew the subject to be of the minor sort. at the head of a marching regiment of your giant foot-Guards. certainly does not inspire attachment. a Mr. and he looked humorously rueful while speaking with some earnestness. without a doubt of the accuracy of the shot. 'The Saxon should carry his White Horse. he cordially esteemed and hailed the victories of a military body whose idea was Duty instead of Ambition. Hear it any morning in your London parks. so 's a prince when the attendant dignitaries receive him submissively and hear him informing the nation of his advent. too distant or too dull to distinguish a note of challenge.' 'The idea is everything in military affairs. one thing I confess. he beamed like a man preparing to embrace a recovered sister. and martial!' he exclaimed. He guessed it at once. 'Oh. Dyke.' he suggested. I'm told in the provinces is astonishing for promoting enlistment. And what if he's a small one and a trifle squeaky. I never have yet brought myself to venerate thoroughly our Royal Standard. partly bald.' said Mrs. he esteemed our soldiers. and the fife announces himself to be born. and as no one hitherto had even comprehended his dilemma. observed to the lady beside him. I dare say it is because I do not understand it. Miss Barrow pronounced it cheerful. and with a candour that seduced the unwary lady to think dubiously whether she quite liked the fife. 'The effect of it. Rumford sadly . 'The Unicorn!' he exclaimed. ma'am. Rumford to lean forward and show her the face of one who had long been harassed by the same incapacity to digest that one thing.' She protested against the barbarism of war. Forbery said. left leg and right leg and bearskin. 'But how do we account for the horn on his forehead?' Mr.' A strong fraternal impulse moved Mr. like the famous mountain. 'It is the Unicorn!' she sighed. Rumford. A city man himself and a man of peace. 'patriotic as I am. 'The flag is only an idea. the sense of devotion. if I may speak by my own feelings. and looking more copious than his flow. 'The Lion is noble.' 'The Unicorn. It 's the idea that 's grand. of benevolent aspect.' She saw no fear of the necessity. I suppose. I hope. Three bangs of the drum. Rumford resumed. our sailors too. Ever since he was a child the difficulty had haunted him. happy to have caught Rockney's deliberate gaze. twinkling for an adversary among the males. that is to say. evading the ambiguous fife.' Mr. which we should always be led to see in national symbols. but thought it must be: it had always been: he deplored the fatality.' Dr. 'But the fife's a pretty instrument. though it was not enough to trip and jar a loyal enthusiasm in the strictly meditative.

queried. 'Two would have been better for the harmony of the Unicorn's appearance,' Captain Con remarked, desirous to play a floundering fish, and tender to the known simple goodness of the ingenuous man. 'What do you say, Forbery? The poor brute had a fall on his pate and his horn grew of it, and it 's to prove that he has got something in his head, and is dangerous both fore and aft, which is not the case with other horses, who're usually wicked at the heels alone. That's it, be sure, or near it. And his horn's there to file the subject nation's grievances for the Lion to peruse at his leisure. And his colour's prophetic of the Horse to come, that rides over all.' 'Lion and Unicorn signify the conquest of the two hemispheres, Matter and Mind,' said Dr. Forbery. 'The Lion there's no mistake about. The Unicorn sets you thinking. So it's a splendid Standard, and means the more for not being perfectly intelligible at a glance.' 'But if the Lion, as they've whispered of late, Forbery, happens to be stuffed with straw or with what's worse, with sawdust, a fellow bearing a pointed horn at close quarters might do him mortal harm; and it must be a situation trying to the patience of them both. The Lion seems to say "No prancing!" as if he knew his peril; and the Unicorn to threaten a playful dig at his flank, as if he understood where he's ticklish.' Mr. Rumford drank some champagne and murmured with a shrug to the acquiescent lady beside him: 'Irishmen!' implying that the race could not be brought to treat serious themes as befitted the seriousness of the sentiments they stir in their bosoms. He was personally a little hurt, having unfolded a shy secret of his feelings, which were keenly patriotic in a phlegmatic frame, and he retired within himself, assuring the lady that he accepted our standard in its integrity; his objection was not really an objection; it was, he explained to her, a ridiculous desire to have a perfect comprehension of the idea in the symbol. But where there was no seriousness everything was made absurd. He could, he said, laugh as well as others on the proper occasion. As for the Lion being stuffed, he warned England's enemies for their own sakes not to be deluded by any such patent calumny. The strong can afford to be magnanimous and forbearing. Only let not that be mistaken for weakness. A wag of his tail would suffice. The lady agreed. But women are volatile. She was the next moment laughing at something she had heard with the largest part of her ear, and she thought the worthy gentleman too simple, though she knew him for one who had amassed wealth. Captain Con and Dr. Forbery had driven the Unicorn to shelter, and were now baiting the Lion. The tremendous import of that wag of his tail among the nations was burlesqued by them, and it came into collision with Mr. Rumford's legendary forefinger threat. She excused herself for laughing: 'They are so preposterous!' 'Yes, yes, I can laugh,' said he, soberly performing the act: and Mr. Rumford covered the wound his delicate sensations had experienced under an apology for Captain Con, that would redound to the credit of his artfulness were it not notorious our sensations are the creatures and born doctors of art in discovering unguents for healing their bruises.

'O'Donnell has a shrewd head for business. He is sound at heart. There is not a drop of gout in his wine.' The lady laughed again, as we do when we are fairly swung by the tide, and underneath her convulsion she quietly mused on the preference she would give to the simple English citizen for soundness. 'What can they be discussing down there?' Miss Mattock said to Philip, enviously as poor Londoners in November when they receive letters from the sapphire Riviera. 'I will venture to guess at nonsense,' he answered. 'Nothing political, then.' 'That scarcely follows; but a host at his own table may be trusted to shelve politics.' 'I should not object.' 'To controversy?' 'Temperately conducted.' 'One would go a long way to see the exhibition.' 'But why cannot men be temperate in their political arguments?' 'The questions raised are too close about the roots of us.' 'That sounds very pessimist.' 'More duels come from politics than from any other source.' 'I fear it is true. Then women might set you an example.' 'By avoiding it?' 'I think you have been out of England for some time.' 'I have been in America.' 'We are not exactly on the pattern of the Americans.' Philip hinted a bow. He praised the Republican people. 'Yes, but in our own way we are working out our own problems over here,' said she. 'We have infinitely more to contend with: old institutions, monstrous prejudices, and a slower-minded people, I dare say: much slower, I admit. We are not shining to advantage at present. Still, that is not the fault of English women.' 'Are they so spirited?' Spirited was hardly the word Miss Mattock would have chosen to designate the spirit in them. She hummed a second or two, deliberating; it flashed through her during the pause that he had been guilty of irony, and she reddened: and remembering a foregoing strange sensation she reddened

more. She had been in her girlhood a martyr to this malady of youth; it had tied her to the stake and enveloped her in flames for no accountable reason, causing her to suffer cruelly and feel humiliated. She knew the pangs of it in public, and in private as well. And she had not conquered it yet. She was angered to find herself such a merely physical victim of the rushing blood: which condition of her senses did not immediately restore her natural colour. 'They mean nobly,' she said, to fill an extending gap in the conversation under a blush; and conscious of an ultra-swollen phrase, she snatched at it nervously to correct it: 'They are becoming alive to the necessity for action.' But she was talking to a soldier! 'I mean, their heads are opening.' It sounded ludicrous. 'They are educating themselves differently.' Were they? 'They wish to take their part in the work of the world.' That was nearer the proper tone, though it had a ring of claptrap rhetoric hateful to her: she had read it and shrunk from it in reports of otherwise laudable meetings. 'Well, spirited, yes. I think they are. I believe they are. One has need to hope so.' Philip offered a polite affirmative, evidently formal. Not a sign had he shown of noticing her state of scarlet. His grave liquid eyes were unalterable. She might have been grateful, but the reflection that she had made a step to unlock the antechamber of her dearest deepest matters to an ordinary military officer, whose notions of women were probably those of his professional brethren, impelled her to transfer his polished decorousness to the burden of his masculine antagonism-plainly visible. She brought the dialogue to a close. Colonel Adister sidled an eye at a three-quarter view of her face. 'I fancy you're feeling the heat of the room,' he said. Jane acknowledged a sensibility to some degree of warmth. The colonel was her devoted squire on the instant for any practical service. His appeal to his aunt concerning one of the windows was answered by her appeal to Jane's countenance for a disposition to rise and leave the gentlemen. Captain Con, holding the door for the passage of his wife and her train of ladies, received the injunction: 'Ten,' from her, and remarked: 'Minutes,' as he shut it. The shortness of the period of grace proposed dejection to him on the one hand, and on the other a stimulated activity to squeeze it for its juices without any delay. Winding past Dr. Forbery to the vacated seat of the hostess he frowned forbiddingly. 'It's I, is it!' cried the doctor. Was it ever he that endangered the peace and placability of social gatherings! He sat down prepared rather for a bout with Captain Con than with their common opponents, notwithstanding that he had accurately read the mock thunder of his brows.

CHAPTER XIV

OF ROCKNEY Battles have been won and the streams of History diverted to new channels in the space of ten minutes. Ladies have been won, a fresh posterity founded, and grand financial schemes devised, revolts arranged, a yoke shaken off, in less of mortal time. Excepting an inspired Epic song and an original Theory of the Heavens, almost anything noteworthy may be accomplished while old Father Scythe is taking a trot round a courtyard; and those reservations should allow the splendid conception to pass for the performance, when we bring to mind that the conception is the essential part of it, as a bard poorly known to fame was constantly urging. Captain Con had blown his Epic bubbles, not to speak of his projected tuneful narrative of the adventures of the great Cuchullin, and his Preaching of St. Patrick, and other national triumphs. He could own, however, that the world had a right to the inspection of the Epic books before it awarded him his crown. The celestial Theory likewise would have to be worked out to the last figure by the illustrious astronomers to whom he modestly ranked himself second as a benefactor of his kind, revering him. So that, whatever we may think in our own hearts, Epic and Theory have to remain the exception. Battles indeed have been fought, but when you survey the field in preparation for them you are summoned to observe the preluding courtesies of civilised warfare in a manner becoming a chivalrous gentleman. It never was the merely flinging of your leg across a frontier, not even with the abrupt Napoleon. You have besides to drill your men; and you have often to rouse your foe with a ringing slap, if he's a sleepy one or shamming sleepiness. As here, for example: and that of itself devours more minutes than ten. Rockney and Mattock could be roused; but these English, slow to kindle, can't subside in a twinkling; they are for preaching on when they have once begun; betray the past engagement, and the ladies are chilled, and your wife puts you the pungent question: 'Did you avoid politics, Con?' in the awful solitude of domestic life after a party. Now, if only there had been freedom of discourse during the dinner hour, the ten disembarrassed minutes allotted to close it would have afforded time sufficient for hearty finishing blows and a soothing word or so to dear old innocent Mr. Rumford, and perhaps a kindly clap of the shoulder to John Mattock, no bad fellow at bottom. Rockney too was no bad fellow in his way. He wanted no more than a beating and a thrashing. He was a journalist, a hard-headed rascal, none of your good old-fashioned order of regimental scribes who take their cue from their colonel, and march this way and that, right about face, with as little impediment of principles to hamper their twists and turns as the straw he tosses aloft at midnight to spy the drift of the wind to-morrow. Quite the contrary; Rockney was his own colonel; he pretended to think independently, and tried to be the statesman of a leading article, and showed his intention to stem the current of liberty, and was entirely deficient in sympathy with the oppressed, a fanatical advocate of force; he was an inveterate Saxon, good-hearted and in great need of a drubbing. Certain lines Rockney had written of late about Irish affairs recurred to Captain Con, and the political fires leaped in him; he sparkled and said: 'Let me beg you to pass the claret over to Mr. Rockney, Mr. Rumford; I warrant it for the circulating medium of amity, if he'll try it.' "Tis the Comet Margaux,' said Dr. Forbery, topping anything Rockney might have had to say, and anything would have served. The latter clasped the decanter, poured and drank in silence.

''Tis the doctor's antidote, and best for being antedated,' Captain Con rapped his friend's knuckles. 'As long as you're contented with not dating in double numbers,' retorted the doctor, absolutely scattering the precious minutes to the winds, for he hated a provocation. 'There's a golden mean, is there!' 'There is; there's a way between magnums of good wine and gout, and it's generally discovered too late.' 'At the physician's door, then! where the golden mean is generally discovered to be his fee. I've heard of poor souls packed off by him without an obolus to cross the ferry. Stripped they were in all conscience.' 'You remind me of a fellow in Dublin who called on me for medical advice, and found he'd forgotten his purse. He offered to execute a deed to bequeath me his body, naked and not ashamed.' 'You'd a right to cut him up at once, Forbery. Any Jury 'd have pronounced him guilty of giving up the ghost before he called.' 'I let him go, body and all. I never saw him again.' 'The fellow was not a lunatic. As for your golden mean, there's a saying: Prevention is better than cure: and another that caps it: Drink deep or taste not.' 'That's the Pierian Spring.' 'And what is the wine on my table, sir?' 'Exhaustless if your verses come of it.' 'And pure, you may say of the verses and the fount.' 'And neither heady nor over-composed; with a blush like Diana confessing her love for the young shepherd: it's one of your own comparisons.' 'Oh!' Con could have roared his own comparisons out of hearing. He was angry with Forbery for his obstructive dulness and would not taste the sneaking compliment. What could Forbery mean by paying compliments and spoiling a game! The ten minutes were dancing away like harmless woodnymphs when the Satyr slumbers. His eyes ranged over his guests despondently, and fixed in desperation on Mr. Rumford, whom his magnanimous nature would have spared but for the sharp necessity to sacrifice him. The wine in Rumford at any rate let loose his original nature, if it failed to unlock the animal in these other unexcitable Saxons. 'By the way, now I think of it, Mr. Rumford, the interpretation of your Royal Standard, which perplexes you so much, strikes me as easy if you 'll examine the powerfully different colours of the two beasts in it.'

Narcissus.' Philip said to Mr. in a form of apology for his relative.Mr.' 'Far be it from me to blame you. half chatting to Mr. as a thoughtful patriot. mane and tail.' He rubbed his hands. worthy of the reputation of a noble brewery. indifferent to the antagonist. true to the character of the numberless hosts he stands for. you should know. Rumford. Rumford to soothe him. if the world will let us. quite as you please.' 'Not at any price?' Philip fancied his tone too quakerly. and wore on his drawn eyelids and slightly drawn upper lip a look of lambent pugnacity awake to the challenge. And the pair are intended to indicate that you may see yourselves complete by looking at them separately.' Mr. and disdainful of the occasion. and when you gaze on it fondly you're playing the part of a certain Mr. not when we are roused. tempted to open his heart. That doughty Saxon had been half listening. is manifestly a consumer of doctor's drugs. may have nothing in his head. by the inexplicable presence of the Unicorn in the Royal Standard. The man was a perfect snail's horn for coyness. Dyspepsia. Unicorn. is discomposed. but his tawniness tells us he imbibes good sound stuff. you behold. perhaps. He recollected that the speaker was a cousin of Captain Con's. Your Lion. and would be glad to account for his one horn and the sickly appearance of the beast. Or there's the alternative of taking him to stand for your sole great festival holiday. for he could be a bellicose gentleman by deputy of the flag. we greatly prefer to live at peace with the world. who got liker to the Lion than to the Unicorn in the act. The circumstances did not permit of his being suffered to slip away: and his complexion showed that he might already be classed among the roast. and it is of no importance to the point--you have Grandgosier or Great Turk in all his majesty. I forget which. my dear sir. and on the other hand. 'I for one am proud of it. we want rousing. Mattock. Whereas your. and worshipping him as the personification of your Derbyshire race. I'm prepared to say he's there to represent the fair one half of the population. And there you have the symbolism of your country. Rumford protested that he had abandoned his inquiry: it was a piece of foolishness: he had no feeling in it whatever. Now will that satisfy you?' 'Quite as you please. and so your Royal Standard is your national mirror. my dear sir. 'One loves the banner of one's country--that is all. . as the showman says.' A glittering look was in Captain Con's eye to catch Rockney if he would but rise to it. 'Surely no! not in England?' said Mr. 'Here and there. Rumford replied. and withdrew into his wound for safety. none. Rumford. Right or left of the shield. 'We have too little of your enthusiasm for the flag. 'Your Lion:--Mr.

for here was the coffee coming round.' He spoke with a witless moderation that was most irritating. Mattock lurched on his chair. 'It seems to me a cry of the streets to call us by hard names. with half a groan that it had not come earlier. 'That shall pass for the epitaph of the living. and the other made a movement. and leave you to settle the political business. and send abroad to do the work of war while you propound the doctrines of peace at home. Patrick was eagerly watchful and dumb.' said he. Adister O'Donnell's household. pricked on the point of honour as a soldier! Are we inevitably to be thwarted by our own people? 'I suppose we all work for pay. and as Dr. he took it lightly. to enslave. 'that's what you're doing. Rumford.' 'We obey our orders. Forbery declined the fray. hirelings. and his wound drew him in again. The disappointed hero of a fight unfought had to give the signal for rising. it might be hoped. shocked by the inconsiderate punctuality of Mrs. he did likewise. 'Our what?' asked Mr.'Indeed I am not one of that party!' said Mr. . 'Paid soldiery. poor fellow!' All hope of a general action was over. Forbery responded to it by pushing back his chair. and at the same time your journals are venting their fine irony at the Austrians and the Russians and the Prussians for tearing Poland to strips with their bloody beaks. an appeal for the close of the sitting. Who should intervene at this instant but the wretched Philip. 'When are you ever at peace!' quoth his host. and Mattock and Rockney escaping without a scratch.' Philip replied. The question is what we fight for. whom you call volunteers. honestly unable to digest the opprobrious term. 'There's hardly a day in the year when your scarlet mercenaries are not popping at niggers. Rockney finished his coffee with a rap of the cup in the saucer.' and as he was the most placable of men concerning his personality. but he feared a snare. red and swelling.' Rockney's forehead was exquisitely eruptive. Double the number of the ten minutes had elapsed. The wine was in them. by a charming euphemism. He sprang up. Rumford. executioners.' said Con. 'You fight to subjugate. considering the latest news from the old country. beginning to glow. and the captain commended the spiriting of it.' said Rockney. and said. as Prospero his Ariel. hearing Rockney say: 'Captain Con O'Donnell is a politician or nothing.' Rockney had the flick on the cheek to his manhood now. 'He thinks and he feels.

and it was not that circumstance which caused the second rush of scarlet over her face. though she said: 'That one?' with a superior air. Con was obliged to subjoin: 'Inscribe it on the dungeon-door of tyranny. Mattock that a long look in among them was often his prayer at night.' His happy conscience enabled him to court his wife with assiduity and winsomeness. 'Know you one of the secrets of a young man's fortune in life. after thrilling the room. been bent upon charming Philip. Patrick was asked to sing. Patrick noticed it and said. and you're a witness to it. she could not have thrown more fire into the notes. He expressed a wish that the fog had cleared for him to see the stars of heaven before he went to bed.It was too late to catch at a trifle to strain it to a tussle. 'You know the secret of your happiness. Patrick thought. yet she sang as if possessed by him. with the thrill of her voice lingering in him: 'What is it you do like? I should so like to know. and the ladies were once more elated by seeing how chivalrously lover-like an Irish gentleman can be after years of wedlock. Patrick had heard of him in Paris.' But the note was peaceful. and she sang. 'I can tell my wife with a conscience we've had a quiet evening.' said Con: 'though we don't happen to have much choice of virgins for ye to-night. And if we'd go on joking to the end we should content them.' Patrick answered. Irish are popular.' he said to Patrick. and winter a holy season to him. This time she could track it definitely to its origin. 'But where--who had the honour of boasting you his pupil?' She mentioned a famous master. my son. It was a mellifluous love-song from a popular Opera somewhat out of date. He had applauded her mechanically.' said she. She had no great admiration of the sentimental Sicilian composer. 'It will surprise you perhaps to hear that I prefer German music. and give us a thrilling song at the piano. Then he took her place on the music-stool. it's in Italian!' she summed up her impressions of the sickly words while scanning them for delivery. accepting the one he selected as the favourite of his brother Philip's. and with an electrifying splendour of tone and style. . 'But it's the very heart of an Italian you sing with!' he cried. 'Well. Miss Mattock accompanied him at the piano.' She was answering when Captain Con came up to the piano and remarked in an undertone to Patrick: 'How is it you hit on the song Adiante Adister used to sing?' Miss Mattock glanced at Philip. for the reason of its showing them bigger and brighter. there was a gesture in her dismissal of the leaves displaying critical loftiness. That consolation remained. He begged for another song and she complied. if only by justifying their opinion that we're born buffoons. she confessed. Irish or French. Had she. And when she had done. They don't mind having us musically. informing Mr.

How true!' 'But any music I could listen to all day and all the night. keeping on the conversation with his eyes until he was caught by the masterly playing of a sonata by the chief of the poets of sound. and could not resist smiling at her lullaby to the prattler. Adister O'Donnell stepped over to them. I don't know.' said Patrick. 'It's you that haven't given it a fair chance I'd like to hear it again. but never seen it. 'I have often felt it. not like his inscrutable brother. Under the influence of good music. Adister was allowed no time to set the manoeuvre in motion. and she had to hush at him again. O'Donnell. 'Now. mio tradito amor!' 'Touch. He dropped his underlip.' 'There is. delicately mouthing: 'I. direct him.A lover's favourite song is one that has been sung by his love. The reminiscences of those pale intuitions made them always affectingly vivid. There's a forest on fire in it.' 'But it's not to be singing. one with whom something could be done to steady him. an allegro con brio.' she exclaimed. Leaving her friend Miss Barrow at the piano. too. But what vanity in our emotional state in a great jarring world where we are excused for continuing to seek our individual happiness only if we ally it and subordinate it to the well being of our fellows! The interjection was her customary specific for the cure of these little tricks of her blood. He was caught by it.' She assured him she was no enigma: she hushed to him to hear.' he was honest enough to reply. 'Now does not that touch you more deeply than the Italian?' said she. with the object of installing Colonel Adister in Patrick's place. The object was possibly perceived. What could she mean? Mrs. but he took the close of the introductory section. Patrick smiled in response. 'And be as proud of yourself the next morning?' Patrick was rather at sea. for the end. a better. 'And how can you sing so gloriously what you don't care for? It puzzles me completely. Mrs. . Mr. or hopefuller edition of Captain Con. he was boyishly Irish. She detected herself now in the full apprehension of the fact before she had sung a bar: it had been a very dim fancy: and she denounced herself guilty of the knowledge that she was giving pain by singing the stuff fervidly. a not unfavourable inclination towards the person sitting beside us and sharing that sweetness. she took a chair in a corner and said. improve him. He might be taught to appreciate Beethoven and work for his fellows. in the same breath that accused her of never feeling things at the right moment vividly. will soften general prejudices--if he was Irish. You exactly describe it. you will hear the music that moves me.' said he. She lost sight of the Jesuit. Exchanges of smiles upon an early acquaintance between two young people are peeps through the doorway of intimacy.

he couldn't sit it!' Miss Mattock laughed. Adister?' 'But why should I?' cried Patrick. and you will believe it.' 'I can do it: I will. and only doubts his ability. I want to work. O'Donnell is a great enthusiast for music. I'm empty-handed. 'The doubt throws a shadow on the wish.' 'Do you hear Mr.' She answered him. Mrs. Rockney.' Mrs.' said Miss Mattock. that is not to be thought of seriously. receiving directions from Grace and me! We should have to release him long before the six months' term. 'Our house could be Patrick's home capitally.' said Mrs.' he suggested to his wife. 'And if he accepts. Adister turned her head to the colonel. It 's true I want to travel and see a bit of the world to help me in my work by and by.' said Miss Mattock.' 'It's writing and accounts. Mrs. if you'll have me. Patrick said: 'I'm ready. my dear madam. He fancied he saw a thread of good luck for Philip in it. 'It's a gift of heaven. half jocosely: 'A whole year of free service? Reflect on what you are undertaking.'Mr. Miss Mattock. who was then looking down the features of Mrs. and music in the evening only now and then.' 'Work. and heard the story from Miss Mattock. for a year. 'Would he not sicken of it in a week.' 'But. Adister?' Captain Con fluttered up to his wife.' 'Has it ever struck you that you might try to help the poor?' 'Arthur is really anxious. I'm ready to try anything I can do.' 'And. Adister. though. Miss Mattock. only hinting that she thought the refusal of the post was due to Arthur. to the idle it would turn to evil. 'And can one picture Colonel Adister the secretary of a Laundry Institution. when we have resolved to incur the expense of a salaried secretary. O'Donnell.' 'I can't believe it. She was not a whit less hospitable. he tells me. 'No. like other gifts of heaven. And . imagine him on a stool. and could listen to it all day and all night. no worse?' 'Writing and accounts all day.

' 'But you'll have me?' 'Gladly. O'Donnell.' said Patrick.' said Patrick.with Mr. 'And not later than to-morrow evening I'll land him at your office. Besides. but for such a little want of ballast. We do not get the best of them in London. we do not get the best of the English--not the women of the north. 'But where there's an obstruction in the road. Miss Mattock. and prefer the straightforward method.' 'And mine is about the smallest.' She replied: 'I warn everybody that they shall be taken at their word if they volunteer their services.' Miss Mattock addressed the volunteer. 'We are too poor at present to refuse the smallest help. 'Well. and there's that to enliven him. 'But I am. diligently.' 'Take 'em in flank when you can't break their centre.' 'If they're Irish. intelligently.' Captain Con backed him for diplomacy.' said she. he'll find countrywomen of his among you.' said the captain. Does he know anything about steam?' 'The rudimentary idea. 'You'll learn he has a head. it's permissible to turn a corner.' 'I am myself naturally blunt. It breaks my heart sometimes to see how near they are to doing well. We have to put up with the rejected of other and better-paying departments of work. when they take to their work. 'Yes. Patrick nodded. excited by the breaking of her heart. For that matter. I'm proud if one of my family can be reckoned worthy of assisting in your noble work.' he said. you shall really try whether you can endure the work for a short time if you are in earnest.' 'I did not mean that. Intelligently certainly compared with our English. Mr.' Captain Con applauded the final words between them.' said Con. and he added: 'Miss Mattock. 'That's good for a beginning. O'Donnell it would be probationary for the first fortnight or month. You say they work well. They had the genial ring. though she accepted the wrong young man for but a shadow of the .' She deliberated. 'a whisper of cajolery in season is often the secret. on the whole.' She was bidden to know by the captain that the word of an Irish gentleman was his bond.

for it was to be a curious experiment. he was ready in imagination to see his cousins play the part of either. 'Observe the sneer:--for our verses are smoke. And if there was none. Con would have manoeuvred against his wife to send him downstairs at the lady's heels. though they were remarkably fine likenesses of a pair in the dead midway of the journey. and a song was vigorously demanded of him by the ladies. but whipping wooden horses. We turn to the right or the left. unrelieved by a tussle with Rockney. Miss Mattock pressed him to sing. Why not all the benefaction on our side. with a smile. 'I can't. But he had saddened his mind about old Ireland: the Irish news weighed heavily on him. it would be an Irish song.' said Con. But for that. If he sang. and he could have jumped at the thought of Patrick's cleverness: it was the one bright thing of the evening. he said.' she said. and he hinted at an objection of his wife's to spirited Irish songs of the sort which carry the sons of Erin bounding over the fences of tyranny and the brook of tears. There was a clear gain in it somewhere. This being settled.right sort of engagement. and a figo for rewards! Devotees or adventurers. Evidently those two were little adapted to make the journey of life together. She gave Patrick a look. by the sudden combination of enthusiastic Irish impulse and benevolent English scheming. Philip bowed to her stiffly.' Her carriage was announced. it's all according to the turn. And perhaps Mr. Captain Con reflected. 'Oh! on another occasion I'm the lark to the sky. 'Then it shall be on another occasion. and that way we're lucky dogs. as we bow to a commanding officer who has insulted us and will hear of it. and he would break down in it. The fellow was a perfect riddle. Rockney might hear a tale in verse as hard to bear as he sometimes found Irish prose!--Miss Mattock perceived that his depression was genuine. He shook his head. the heavens appeared to decree.' he sighed. Adister's lead and submitted herself to a further jolting in the unprogressive conversational coach with Colonel Adister. Jane Mattock was a good soul worth saving. 'I was plucking the drowned body of a song out of the waters to give it decent burial. as the cross-roads offered.' Rockney assured him that he could listen to anything in verse. whose fault as a driver was not in avoiding beaten ways. she very considerately resigned herself to Mrs. And if I sing I shall be charged with casting a firebrand at Mr. my dear lady. He was accused of singing to himself. But never forget that old Ireland is weeping! O never forget that old Ireland is weeping The bitter salt tears of the mother bereft! He hummed the spontaneous lines. and this way we're voluntary drudges. Rockney. He put on the proper gravity of a young man commissioned. not less than his desire to please her. the fate of it. hard to read as the zebra lines on the skin of a wild jackass-- . without a dimple of a smile.

but the Irishmen were subjected to some remarks by the Englishmen. Common sense is necessarily critical in its collision with vapours. 'No one knows but them above!' he said aloud. like the hold on a rogue by his collar. The air of their Ireland intoxicates them. apparently to his wife. and they see perfect independence in their grasp.' said Mattock. the crew playing Donnybrook freely. She had deputed Colonel Arthur to conduct Miss Mattock and Miss Barrow to their carriage. 'As to repression. Rumford. and the puling nonsense of our present Government. Rockney agree to walk in company to their clubs. have encouraged them so far and got us into the mess. if they kick at it. beyond an allusion to an accident to John Mattock's yacht off the Irish west-coast last autumn. She was easily appeased. So the party separated. Mattock and Mr. hazy speeches. whose party opposed Rockney's. Mr. 'Fair legislation upon your own interpretation of fair. nor is it an unjust one either. and the conscious possessors of an exclusive common sense are called on to deliver a summary verdict. 'What can you be signifying?' she asked him. very briskly and thankfully. wherein their qualities as individuals and specimens of a race were critically and neatly packed. and Mrs. and we have allowed it to be supposed that it frightens us. and the Irishmen together. 'The question of rain. fair legislation in due course. but no show of weakness. Rockney was for sharp measures in repression. Once let them imagine you are afraid of them. her head was up and high. never satisfied. Marbury Dyke. and she supposed the sentence might have a mysterious reference to the plan she had formed. Their leaders now pretend to work upon the Great Scale. Her small round eyes were wide-open. 'I dare say that was what I had in my mind. Their cooler heads are shrewd enough to see the folly. thirsting for a shindy. therefore it might be a punishable offence. fons et origo. hearing Mr. as did Mr. madam. if you had done him the kindness to pick up his glove. And what would be the spectacle if they were to cut themselves loose from England? The big ship might be inconvenienced by the loss of the tender. Irishmen are queer fellows. Concessions. with pilot and captain at sword and pistol. It 's wisest to let them . if the verdict be taken simply for an estimate of what is presented upon the plain surface of to-day. you would have missed that instructive scene this evening at Con O'Donnell's table. They require the strong hand: fair legislation.' he replied to her repetition of his words. but it catches the Irish fancy to rush to the extreme. too easily. Treat them as policemen treat highwaymen: give them the law: and the law must be tightened. Rockney was taken away by Mr. and the Englishmen were together. they demand everything on the spot upon their own interpretation of equity. the tender would fall adrift on the Atlantic. There is the capital blunder. and hardly a syllable relating to the Englishmen did the Irishmen say.' He proposed to them that they should delay the march on a visit to his cabin near the clouds.if Providence intended any meaning when she traced them! and it's a moot point: as it is whether some of our poets have meaning and are not composers of zebra. They were forced to decline his invitation to the gentle lion's mouth. Some of them get along pretty well in America.

Grace has too much on her hands. Forbery 's a more dangerous man.' Jane said. 'They seem to marry oddly in that family. which was the length of time he granted this ardent volunteer for evaporating and vanishing.' 'They are zealous when they are led. and they're soon at work.' Mattock let fly a short laugh at the remark. Hold off.' 'Is she such a beauty?' Again Mattock answered: 'Yes. She's a woman of principle. He entirely trusted to her discretion. Con O'Donnell comported himself decorously as a director. or we should be hearing of him. O'Donnell--did you notice him? I told you I met him a day or two back--seems willing to be of use. requesting to have a sight of the secretary's books at the expiry of the week. Next morning Jane Mattock spoke to her brother of her recruit.' said John Mattock. it will be useful to us. 'Any proposals from curates recently?' 'Not of late. He has a conspirator's head. It cannot hurt him to try. not without shrewdness: he seemed to be sobered by the money question. And Mr.' 'She has a dozen persons. is handsomer. nevertheless. it's only effervescence.' 'Beware of letting them suspect that they are led. and declined to uncork him. 'They do. which had the ring of some current phrase.' 'What kind of director of a City Company does he make?' said Rockney.' 'They are anxious to help the poor if they can discover how.' he said.' Mattock answered: 'Yes. Captain O'Donnell. He talks of a niece of his wife's: have you ever seen her?--married to some Servian or Roumanian prince. to account for the Captain's shrewdness.' . 'That wife of his is the salvation of him.exhaust their energies upon one another. the idea of a young Irish secretary was rather comical. There's no intentional mischief in Con O'Donnell. His wife keeps him quiet. He knows the length of his line.' after affecting thoughtfulness. and barring the marriage.' 'Good men. on the whole. I don't doubt. the brother of our secretary. 'Women are educated so shamefully that we have not yet found one we can rely on as a competent person. generally speaking on the reasonable side. 'If it releases poor Grace for a week. good sense too. Mattock bethought him that. He had his joke about it. 'She manages him cleverly. but we do not think him so trustworthy.' Rockney said. Did you observe him at all?--he sat by me. strange to say. I saw his game.

He locked his mouth. one does not with any stiffness of purpose go at a dust-heap eagerly. and might be expected to appear there while the novelty lasted. and saw the country in the reflection. Patrick O'Donnell would be as good as his word. to make the day secure and supply a somniferous pillow for the night. The salient features wore a resemblance. behind the country a great deal more. His England saw much of itself in him. looking at her with a twinkle she refused to notice. Jane said. doings. they have not betrayed eagerness for such dry stuff. 'Determined to master details' he could have accepted. or be assailed by the customary proposal. He surveyed his England with a ruddy countenance. indulged in no extravagances. For that matter. and he inclined to think his sister guilty of casting her protecting veil over the youth. Jane was her own mistress and could very well take care of herself. Irishmen were not likely to be far behind curates in besieging an heiress. a ready hand on. had spoken upon no other topic. A certain eagerness of her own in speaking of it sharpened her clear features as if they were cutting through derision. Hungry men have eaten husks.' which pricked the scepticism of a practical man. had asked pertinent questions. O'Donnell had been studious of his duties. It appeared that Mr. eager to master details. One may be determined to find a needle in a dust-heap.' she said. He seemed. The things he would strongly object to he did not specify to himself because he was untroubled by any forethought of them. commercial and marine. political. a recognised ability of the second-rate order. inherited and embraced. and John deferred his amusement until the termination of the week or month when his dear good Jane would visit the office to behold a vacated seat. a full purse. Behind each there was more. occasional fits of anxiety about affairs. as it might have done but for the veracious picture of Patrick in the word 'eager. 'If I find him there. and over. left few vacancies in his mind other than for the pleasures he could command and enjoy. he had confidence in her wisdom. shown no flippancy. a stout hold of patent principles.'What is that?' her brother asked her. than could be displayed by a glass. Her brother was of opinion that Mr. Business. Patrick's voracity after details exhibited a doubtfully genuine appetite. Prosperity and heartiness. followed by an illuminating conviction .' She was directed to furnish a compendious report of the sayings. and behaviour of the Irish secretary in the evening. He was besides of an unsuspicious and an unexacting temperament. She stated it to propitiate her brother. 'Only a notion of mine. CHAPTER XV THE MATTOCK FAMILY That evening's report of the demeanour of the young Irish secretary in harness was not so exhilarating as John Mattock had expected.

we are bound to conceive others at work as well as he. There he appealed to the white calves of his footmen for a day's work. popular books for the inciting of young Englishmen to dig to fortune had a place for it among the chapters. where so much was done. in the belief that our Creator originally composed in black and white. the Lord and he would have reared a garden in the desert. real though the story be. dying sour. nor did those worthy guides to the pursuit of wealth contain any reminder of old John Mattock's dependence upon the conjoint labour of his fellows to push him to his elevation. not the great creatures we assume ourselves to be. The first John Mattock was a representative of his time. He grumbled at the heavy taxation of his estate during life: yearly this oppressed old man paid thousands of pounds to the Government. who had built it from a spade. It was not mentioned in the popular books. will fetch some sort of yield out of any soil. when the empty heirs of his fellows might prefer a modest claim (confused in statement) to compensation against the estate he bequeathed: for such prophecy as that would have hinted at a tenderness for the mass to the detriment of the individual. generations hence. finding himself at the auspicious moment upon a line of rail. he moved when the country was moving. It was poor encouragement to shoulder and elbow your way from a hovel to a mansion! He paid the money. with the humorous indifference of familiarity and constitutional annoyances. And here the moral of the popular books turned aside from him to snatch at humanity for an instance of our frailness and dealt in portentous shadows:--we are. together with a liking for matters on their present footing in slow motion. and the means by which the country has executed its later giant strides of advancement. and such tenderness as that is an element of our religion. we may suppose. a forbidding one at the terminus. to produce the sum: and since. as the moral of the popular books does not sufficiently indicate. Elsewhere he would have moved. upon the plea that he had never been a democrat. against obstacles. as it has done before.that the world is a changing one and our construction not of granite. it seems to follow that the exemplar outstripping them vastly must have profited by situation at the start. nevertheless that a justifiable faith in the ship. an ardent sphere. The story of the building was notorious. excepting when they grew acute and called for drugs. As little did they think of foretelling a day. persistent and thrifty. The scene had been described with humanely-moralising pathos in the . where we read of the kind of man. An accumulation of upwards of four hundred thousand pounds required. a splendid example of energy on the road. will pull us through. for the spade-like virtues bear their fruits. which is a lucky accident. solid and square. The Lord. were the prominent characteristics of the grandson of the founder of the house. a moving country. despite all assaults and underminings of the common enemy and the particular. and an accident is an indigestible lump in a moral tale. Six months before his death he appeared in the garb of a navvy. still on the sands. and in the right direction. partly under his conductorship. and with friendliness to the race of man of both colours. not the drift of our teaching. joined to a constant study of the chart. in proximity to an oasis. to whom an old man of a mind totally Hebrew ascribed the plenitude of material success. but he would not have gone far. these. humbly soliciting employment at his own house-door. it should be known.

Like the first John Mattock. where. and excess of signification is attempted. have shone unambiguously as carrots. revel in the oriental superabundance. Marigolds are in her hand. a perpetual contrast. would have been shown wearing her ridiculous crown with some decent sulkiness. and yet by dint of sturdy energy. above the people. as a poetical splendour. by a very old Yorkshire collector. And as quickly as you perceive the contrast you swallow the moral. A bequest to the nation of the best of these pictures of Old John. as our popular words should do. is known to those who lived in days when Art and the classes patronising our Native Art existed happily upon the terms of venerable School-Dame and studious pupils. makes it milk for all time. and a pair of tight cornucopias at the temples. and really seem to swear we shall admire it. and filled the sails of many a sermon. facing the door) in our exhibition of the chosen artists. which our critics of Literature as well as Art are one voice in denouncing. they flocked to it thirsting and retired from it thoughtful. Degeneracy is the critical history of the Arts. The dreaded thing is down in a trice. when the complex overwhelms the simple. in the Great City's Green Park. before the sickly era displacing Exhibitions full of meaning for tricks of colour. and we should not have had her so unsparingly crowned. The fustian suit and string below the knee. wearing the rose of briny breezes. with clipped red locks. It causes blinking. in blue array. instead of letting plain nature speak her uncorrupted tongue to the contemplative mind. with some belief of having drunk of nature in art. The contrast flashed with the rapid exchange of two prizefighters in a ring. Compared with the portrait of Jane Mattock in her fiery aureole of hair on the walls of the breakfast-room. it was formerly of. the truth would have been told in a dexterous concealment--a rope of it wound up for a bed of the tortoise-shell comb behind. The girl of his day thus adorned by Nature. in her grandfather's epoch. but the deception is not disingenuous. The whole square of canvas is like a meadow on the borders of June. and a rebuke. and set many heads philosophically shaking. we perceive at a glance. monstrous atmospherical vagaries that teach nothing. 'I've worked a good bit in my time. and the purple plush breeches and twinkling airy calves (fascinating his attention as he makes his humble request to his own. as you will see the countless troops of urchins about the one cow of London. lift it wavily over her forehead. That it passed into the blood of England's middle-class population. and I baint done yet':--SEE PROFESSOR SUMMIT'S 'MEN WHO HAVE COME TO FORTUNE. against our traditions of the vegetable. smiling. Jane's hair was of a reddish gold-inwoven cast that would. They learnt from it. Her brother also is presented: a fine portrait of him. gentlemen. and it had for a length of seasons an annual position in the foremost rank (on the line. these domestic knights) to right and left of the doorway and in front. a contrast in the bowed master of the Mansion applying to his menials for a day's work at the rate of pay to able-bodied men:--which he is not. hit straight out of the canvas. it marks that fatal period of degeneracy for us. it struck the spectator's eye and his brain simultaneously with pugilistic force: a reference to the picture in the catalogue furnishing a recapitulation of the incident. The head of the heiress is in a Jovian shower. very popularly. to do what salutary work it may within you. a . on the one side. strange experiments on the complexion of the human face divine--the feminine hyper-aethereally.various books of stories of Men who have come to Fortune.' There is. What does our modern artist do but flare it to right and left.

The portrait is clearly no frontispiece of his qualities. we had coal. dated a generation back. and there was reason for doubt whether in the matter of industry we were quite up to the mark of our forefathers. and his high coloured cheeks. a lover of the sea. the subject is a modern Viking. who multipled the inheritance of the hundreds of thousands into millions. to imagine we were without rivals in the field. With his brass-buttoned blue coat. Yet this is Ezra Mattock. Asia. and you are to understand that his time is come and so should a Viking die: further. received comments from various newspaper articles. he looks for adventure without a thought of his heroism--the country all over. No deterioration of the stock was apprehended. and if an amateur. his right forefinger on a map. cited in our prints. and the Americas with iron rails. iron. after covering Europe. still the nation must be accused of a lack of vigilance. So accustomed had we become to the predominance of our position that it was difficult at first to realise a position of rivalry that threatened our manufacturing interests in their hitherto undisputed lead in the world's markets. a view of Spitzbergen through a cabin-window: for John had notions about the northwest passage. ready for the responsibilities of the title. was not the less a true sailor. We were possessed of certain positive advantages. how mightily he was one had not entered into the calculations of the public until the will of the late Ezra Mattock. and an industrious population. The portrait of John's father. the sermon ran. and the icebergs and hummocks about him. and it was an agreeable sentiment. The tale of our exports for the last five years conveys at once its moral and its warning. by no means a thrifty race. practical in every line of his face. On the wall. and a scientific seaman and engineer to boot. He married an accomplished and charitable lady. rather retiring into darkness than emerging. one of the few Christians that can hold up their heads beside the banking Jew as magnates in the lists of gold. if you will. just above his shoulder. There he stands. He is the ghost of the painter's impasto. A chuckle of collateral satisfaction ran through the empire. His life passed quietly.telescope under his left arm. The object of the artist (apart from the triumph of tone on the canvas) is to introduce him as an elegant and faded gentleman. Sketches of our ancient wooden walls and our iron and plated defences line the panellings. Others were energetic too! We were not. is just the man and little else. phantomly the man. coming opportunely. defying mankind to suspect that he cherishes a grain of romance. his death shook the country: for though it had been known that he had been one of our potentates. the awakening energy of the foreigner--a prodigious apparition on our horizon. and died. and his convict hair--a layer of brickdust--and his air of princely wealth. His brown coat struggles out of the obscurity of the background. All England and her dependencies felt the state of cousinship with the fruits of energy. His features are distinguishable and delicate: you would suppose him appearing to you under the beams of a common candle. We must look round us. at the tail of articles that had been discussing a curious manifestation of late--to-wit. or cottage coalfire --ferruginously opaque. Statistics . and accept the facts as they stood. but we were. is a sketch of a Viking putting the lighted brand to his ship in mid sea. and she did not spoil the stock in refining it. he had spent a winter in the ice. as it did. but it is chiefly background clothing him. it was to be feared. These degenerate artists do work hard for their money.

As when the gloomy pedagogue has concluded his exhortation. The minds of the readers of journals were now directed to think of the hoarded treasures of this favoured country. and whetted the appetite of . it was remembered. Carthage was named. commanding all the crossroads. we were the sole people that had the option. much to the nation's comfort. surpassing all actual and fabulous gold-mines ever spoken of: Aladdin's magician would find his purse contracting and squeaking in the comparison. Our Poets were cited: not that there was a notion that poems would pay as an export but to show that if we excel in one of the Arts we may in others of them. It is the genius of the will. given the foreigner glimpses. or it will ultimately be unable to feed its young--nay. the world's gold-mine. They were started at our dinner-tables. an ancient song of raven recurrence croaked of 'Old England a-going down the hill'. and the subsiding see-saw restored a proper balance. The poetry was not cited. Thus did Optimism and Pessimism have their turn. The contemplation of a million stupefies: consider the figures of millions and millions! Articles were written on Lombard Street. Outside these dismal assemblies. of wealth to his children. Ezra's legacy of his millions to son and daughter broke like a golden evening on the borders of the raincloud. and not to be emasculated by the possession.were then cited. a very Pelion upon Ossa. for there is a link of electricity between the street-boy and the leading article in days when the Poles exchange salutations. Why should we not learn to excel in Art? We excelled in Poetry. Why. if we pleased. and scourged the social converse. and resume the race for wealth with the rest of mankind. they led invariably to the question of our decadence. A country breeding hugely must prove its energy likewise in the departments of the mind. there are spectators of its method of getting to an equipoise out of the agitation of extremes. too. Energy is adapted to flourish equally in every branch of labour. The explosion of a particular trade points to your taking up another. the object being to inflate the balloon of paradox with a light-flying gas. whose eyes were to dilate wider than they did in the valley of diamonds. lie by and pass two or three decades as jolly cricketers and scullers. a great mercantile community absolutely obliterated! Senatorial men were led to propose in their thoughtfullest tones that we should turn our attention to Art. like the two great parties in the State. Things could not be so bad when a plain untitled English gentleman bequeathed in the simplest manner possible such giant heaps. Not less than in the articles. Unhappily. to feast its aldermen! Let us be up and alive.--Such was the exhortation of a profound depression. if they did but know it. The peep at our treasures to regain composure had. but even if counted they would be past conception. they were distressing nevertheless. like the sidereal system. we could. we fear. Mr. our granary of energy. nor was it necessary. the store of jewels held by certain private families called for remark and an allusion to Sindbad the sailor. they were perhaps livelier than in the preface. Then. hardly sensible of the holiday in our pockets though we were the last people to do it. statistics birched the land. in the streets. but to have the cap. might excuse a little reasonable pride in ourselves. Our Fortunatus' cap was put to better purposes. and prove a poem-producing people to be of their nature born artists. They might approximately be counted.

a master of millions. Lectures were addressed to democrats. reverentially monarchial. Who could pretend to despise the honour of admission to the ranks of the proudest peerage the world has known! Is not a great territorial aristocracy the strongest guarantee of national stability? The loudness of the interrogation. . But your Liberals are sometimes Radicals in their youth. pretty nearly as it has here been dotted in lining. wild driving. preached on the theme of our peculiar Republicanism. our House of Lords was pledged solemnly in reams of print. and his choice of parties might not be so much sagacity as an instance of unripe lightheadedness. he was at once considered as fast and safe. you are almost expected to do it. His bards were awake to his anxiety. defenceless. The very wealthy young peer is never wanton in his politics. at the end of it. and English aristocracy received the paean.! You see the straight deduction from the circumstances:--we are. We were told that 'blood' may always be betted on to win the race. Mr. It is discovered to be no worse than an alderman's dream. which seems to admonish us that the heir of vast wealth should have it imposed on him to accept a peerage. Bull thrillingly. A maudlin fit of worship of our nobility had hold of him next. however. India and Ireland consenting. start up. not because of any public knowledge of the character of Jane Mattock. When it was added that the man had the habit of taking counsel with his sister. So much for a passing outline of John Bull--the shadow on the wall of John Mattock. a prey to foes within and without. . and those are seen enviously glaring. A coronet steadies the brain. and the freaks of Radicalism. His bards flung out their breezy columns. in their grip. We pay this homage to the settled common sense of women. merely progressive. and celebrated John Mattock's doings with a trump and flourish somewhat displeasing to a quietly-disposed commoner. who had never sighed (and he had only to sigh) to die a peer. precluded thought of an answer. and be locked up as it were. The unostentatious millionaire's legacy to his two children affected Mr. warns us of a sack under our beds. . rush to the doctor and the blacksmith. or a baronet. a Republican people! Newspaper articles on the watch sympathetically for Mr. Could he believe in the existence of a son of his. That is historical. say what you will. Laudatory articles upon the soldierly 'march past' of our volunteers permit of a spell of soft repose. deeper than prudent. A young conservative millionaire is less disturbing. the wealthiest man in the country had flown away to Shadowland a common Mr. or simple Knight? The downright hard-nailed coffin fact was there. like the thunder of Jove. The Republican was informed that they were despised as a blatant minority. blood that is blue will beat the red hollow. but you are to shake that young pate of yours restively under such a splendid encumbrance. proclaim ourselves intestinally torn. John's entry into Parliament as a Liberal was taken for a sign of steersman who knew where the tide ran. Distinctly does she discountenance leaps in the dark. Then do we. Bull's latest view of himself. No sooner are we at peace than these are heard uttering low howls. Soon after he was observed fondling the Crown Insignia. rig alarums. that ever dogs the optimistic feast. Private reports of John. gave him credit for sound opinions: he was moderate. who have so sweetly sung our senses to sleep.our masses. but the pessimist frenzy of the night has tossed a quieting sop to the Radical. and summoned the volunteers to a review. kept an eye on the owner of those millions. You may let out your heels at the social laws. though he is not of lucid memory. and robbers about to try a barely-bolted door. Panic. The spectre. Bull.

his bright-faced sister he could thoroughly trust for prudent conduct. Brother and sister preserved their little secrets of character apart. and they were separately aware of an inward smile at one another's partial deception. a woman of decisive penetration. would marry a beggar-maid.John. This in fact was their life. She doubted such perfect disinterestedness in any young man as that he should slave at account-keeping to that Laundry without a prospect of rich remuneration. her vision was acutely retrospective. with the emphasis on each word. And he paid no compliments to Jane: of the two he was . and some of the latest enrolled are the stoutest defenders of the flag. There were matters which he excluded from confidence. their widowed maternal aunt. hooted by its old assumption. John was passion's slave. she was the natural prey of a threadbare poet. nor could she perfectly open her heart to him. and that it should be but occasionally difficult to them shows an affinity with the type. They both had an established ideal of their personal qualities. 'Let me see your prodigy. But they were not so successful with the lady governing the household. Patrick O'Donnell. Socially these island men and women of a certain middle rank are veterans of an army. As for Jane. Patrick was presented at her table. Mrs. even from intimate communication with himself. Especially do we reserve our speech concerning the dream in which we had a revelation of the proud frame deprived of a guiding will. appeared simple. The ideal of English gentleman and gentlewoman is closely Roman in the selfrepression it exacts. Lackstraw. professed no enthusiasm for the Laundry. detected. they had. yet it was a trifle higher and fairer than the working pattern. She pointed to incidents of their youth. and albeit they were sincere enough. by what each knew at times of the thumping organ within them. O continental observers of the race. anxious past endurance. quite sincere in their mutual intercourse. let it be ever behind a curtain. He spoke little. These he could not reveal. The stroke of the deeper self-knowledge rarely shook them. as she remarked. for the same reason. but the soul swayed by passion is ignominiously bare-poled. as it happened. which did not thwart their honest power of working up to the respected ideal. The wealth of her nephew and niece caused such a view of them to be. and demanded the right to inspect him. Ah that abject! The dismantled ship has the grandeur of the tempest about it. and we do not speak of our dreams--not of every dream. had not so grave a respect for the sex as for the individual Jane. who might step to an alliance with any one of the proudest houses in the Kingdom. He gave her a good portion of his heart in confidence. cause for doubting that they were as transparent as the other supposed. She had grounds for fearing that John. since they were neither of them pretentious. not far above the positive. call it hypocritical? It is their nature disciplined to the regimental step of civilisation. He thought women capable of acts of foolishness. They could not be expected to unfold what they declined personally to examine. We can be held guilty only if we court exposure. She had steeled herself against an Irish tongue. Do you perchance. Anything beside it was a dream. and the tale of his going down to the city for a couple of hours each day to learn the art of keeping books was of very dubious import in a cousin of Captain Con O'Donnell. and an insubordinate recruit of the army aforesaid. Lackstraw heard of Mr. To her they were without a mask. If instinct plays fantastical tricks when we are sleeping. Jane the most romantic of Eve's daughters. flung rudderless on the waves.' she said. they were able to live with full sensations in the animated picture they were to the eyes best loved by them. and all of it in affection. Mrs.

pure milk. 'That is. Lackstraw fished for some account of his home. in the spiritual sense. potatoes and bread.' he confessed. he dashed a few sketches of mother and sisters.more interested by the elder lady. Mrs. She spoke of it openly to prove that Jane must marry a title and John become a peer. had betrayed himself in his mother's days. The boy. when it required all her influence and his father's . He was open to flow on the subject. were the things he coveted in plenty for his people and himself. and would like to feel he was doing a bit of good. the question was put. with whom he was on friendly terms. Jane acquiesced. however. and of his own poor estate. His brogue rather added to his air of truthfulness. Lackstraw thought it prudent to hint at the latter idea to Jane while she decided in her generosity to embrace the former. O'Donnell. The name of Mattock gave her horrors. Lackstraw. Oh! if all Irishmen shared his taste for sweet water. Could one.' said he. Mrs. and to Lackstraw above the earthly martyr would go bearing the designation which marked her to be claimed by him. The girl had been secretive about the early activity of hers. Sweet water. The juvenility of him was catching. and the peasantry. Mr. I'm bound apprentice for a year. and not one of the actor's properties. observing that he liked thick cream: there was a touch of home in it. She declared her incapacity to die happy until the two had buried Mattock. But for John and Jane the index of Providence pointed a brighter passage through life. 'A trifle so. He was an absentee for his education. He was not alive for his own pleasure. The innocent sensuality in the candid avowal of his tastes inspired confidence. Lackstraw asked herself. though her aunt knew of two or three adventures wanting in nothing save boldness to have put an end to her independence and her prospects:--hence this Laundry business! a clear sign of some internal disappointment. having always considered it a curious fact that her aunt should combine the relish of a country life with the intensest social ambition-a passion so sensitive as to make the name her husband had inflicted on her a pain and a burden. was the answer. frail hearts. and an invitation to come down to her farm in the Spring.' 'Oh. Her own one fatal step condemned her. His easy manners and the occasional streak of correct French in his dialogue cast a shadow on it. They had. Never was there such a name to smell of the soil. and she reminded Jane of it as a curious fact. He was asked whether he did not find it tiresome work. fresh as trout in the stream. have faith in this young Irishman? He possessed an estate. he said. Why not?--his heart was evidently much more interested in her pursuits than in her niece's. as Lackstraw on her tombstone. owing to the opinion she held upon the sacredness of marriage. They had only to conquer the weakness native to them--the dreadful tendency downward. Then why did he pursue it. pure milk and wholesome bread. if it was indeed the man. if you are still in London. whose farm and dairy in Surrey he heard her tell of with a shining glance. dowerless girls. Mrs. what a true Union we should have! She had always insisted on those three things as most to be desired on earth for the masses. calling forth an echo from Mrs. Yet he might be an ingenuous creature precisely because of the suspicion roused by his quaint unworldliness that he might be a terrible actor.

and they are most easily lulled by the flattery of seeing their special virtues grafted on an alien stock: for in this admiration of virtues that are so necessary to the stalwart growth of man. reproaching every one who had hinted a doubt. if we jump out of it to examine its appearance. honest. Irish still. She dealt them out in exclamations. Six months of ungrudging unremunerated service. She thought of her looks as less attractive than they were. a trying doctor for a child of the patient. a Celt who had schooled his wits to observe and meditate. It was the vice of her condition to be suspicious of the honesty of men. but he had the knowledge of his being trusted as not every Irishman would have been. to rescue him from immediate disaster. merely seeming to take notes. when not fretted by them. not one of your lunatics concerning his country--he could listen to an Englishman's opinion on that head. John Mattock could shake his hand heartily when he was leaving our shores. and Rockney was. O'Donnell was a sort of exceptional Irishman. This was at the expiration of seven months and two weeks of service. and still impulsive. was shown in the treatment Patrick received from the Mattock family. listen composedly to Rockney. Only after he had gone. had been the most suspicious of his pure simplicity.' Perhaps his pause on the interjection expressed a doubt of our getting them genuine. The disposition of the English to love the children of Erin. a very strange bird. they become just sensible of a minor deficiency. methodical. Press Dragoon about Ireland. showing devotion to the good cause and perfect candour from first to last. notwithstanding the unaccountable part he played as honorary secretary to that Laundry. Mr. The confidences. and know that of all around her she. as well as the reason why he had won their private esteem. when they're genuine and first rate!--are pretty well the pick of the land. not devoid of practical ability in a small way--he did his duties of secretary fairly well. Patrick was released by Miss Grace Barrow's discovery at last of a lady capable of filling his place: a circumstance that he did not pretend to regret. Mrs.authority. He relinquished his post and stood aside with the air of a disciplined soldier. They are not willingly suspicious: it agitates their minds to be so. understood his position with them as one of the gallant and amusing race. pleasant to entertain and talk to. than an Englishman. what with his mixture of impulsiveness and discretion. as much as telling him that now they knew him they trusted him. would have said: 'These Irish fellows. Lackstraw's confidences on the theme of the family she watched over were extended to Patrick during their strolls among the ducks and fowls and pheasants at her farm. the tree. Remembering her chill once on hearing Patrick in a green lane . A service of six months to the secretaryship established his reputation as the strange bird of a queer species: not much less quiet. did Jane distinguish in herself the warmth of friendliness she felt for him. likeable. On the whole. apparently sincere--he had refrained from courting Jane. and Patrick. should not be all trunk. an odd creature enough. he was aware. if he had finished the sentence instead of lopping it with an interjection. with proof positive of the woman's unworthiness. and a poetic touch beyond: so that John Mattock. as Captain Con termed him. upon her receiving his first letter from the Continent. of her wealth she had reason to think that the scent transformed our sad sex into dogs under various disguises. was English. were common property of the visitors one after another. It is a love resembling the affection of the stage-box for a set of favourite performers.

where they botanised among spring flowers call himself her Irish cousin, as if he had advanced a step and betrayed the hoof, she called him her Irish cousin now in good earnest. Her nation was retrospectively enthusiastic. The cordiality of her letter of reply to the wandering Patrick astonished him on the part of so cool a young lady; and Captain Con, when he heard Miss Mattock speak of Patrick to his wife, came to the conclusion that the leery lad had gone a far way toward doing the trick for himself, though Jane said his correspondence was full of the deeds of his brother in India. She quite sparkled in speaking of this boy. She and the captain had an interchange of sparklings over absent Patrick, at a discovery made by Miss Colesworth, the lady replacing him, in a nook of the amateur secretary's official desk, under heaps of pamphlets and slips, French and English and Irish journals, not at all bearing upon the business of the Laundry. It was a blotting-pad stuffed with Patrick's jottings. Jane brought it to Con as to the proper keeper of the reliquary. He persuaded her to join him in examining it, and together they bent their heads, turning leaf by leaf, facing, laughing, pursuing the search for more, sometimes freely shouting. Her inspection of the contents had previously been shy; she had just enough to tell her they were funny. Dozens of scraps, insides of torn envelopes, invitation-cards, ends of bills received from home, whatever was handy to him at the moment, had done service for the overflow of Mr. Secretary's private notes and reflections; the blotting-paper as well; though that was devoted chiefly to sketches of the human countenance, the same being almost entirely of the fair. Jane fancied she spied herself among the number. Con saw the likeness, but not considering it a complimentary one, he whisked over the leaf. Grace Barrow was unmistakeable. Her dimpled cushion features, and very intent eyes gazing out of the knolls and dingles, were given without caricature. Miss Colesworth appeared on the last page, a half-length holding a big key, demure between curls. The key was explained by a cage on a stool, and a bird flying out. She had unlocked the cage for Patrick. 'He never seemed anxious to be released while he was at work,' said Jane, after she and the captain had spelt the symbolling in turns. 'And never thirsted to fly till he flew, I warrant him,' said Con. A repeated sketch of some beauty confused them both; neither of them could guess the proud owner of those lineaments. Con proclaimed it to be merely one of the lad's recollections, perhaps a French face. He thought he might have seen a face rather resembling it, but could not call to mind whose face it was. 'I dare say it's just a youngster's dream on a stool at a desk, as poets write sonnets in their youth to nobody, till they're pierced by somebody, and then there's a difference in their handwriting,' he said, vexed with Patrick for squandering his opportunity to leave a compliment to the heiress behind him. Jane flipped the leaves back to the lady with stormy hair. 'But you'll have the whole book, and hand it to him when he returns; it 'll come best from you,' said Con. 'The man on horseback, out of uniform, 's brother Philip, of course. And man and horse are done to the

life. Pray, take it, Miss Mattock. I should lose it to a certainty; I should; I can't be trusted. You'll take it!' He pressed her so warmly to retain the bundle in her custody that she carried it away. Strange to say the things she had laughed at had been the things which struck her feelings and sympathies. Patrick's notes here and there recalled conversations he had more listened to than taken part in between herself and Grace Barrow. Who could help laughing at his ideas about women! But if they were crude, they were shrewd--or so she thought them; and the jejuneness was, to her mind, chiefly in the dressing of them. Grace agreed with her, for Grace had as good a right to inspect the papers as she, and a glance had shown that there was nothing of peculiar personal import in his notes: he did not brood on himself. Here was one which tickled the ladies and formed a text for discussion. 'Women must take the fate of market-fruit till they earn their own pennies, and then they 'll regulate the market. It is a tussle for money with them as with us, meaning power. They'd do it as little by oratory as they have done by millinery, for their oratory, just like their millinery, appeals to a sentiment, and to a weaker; and nothing solid comes of a sentiment. Power is built on work.' To this was appended: 'The better for mankind in the developing process, ay, and a bad day for us, boys, when study masks the charming eyes in gig-lamps, and there is no pretty flying before us. Good-night to Cupid, I fear. May be I am not seeing far enough, and am asking for the devil to have the loveliest women as of old. Retro S. M.' The youthful eye on their sex, the Irish voice, and the perceptible moral earnestness in the background, made up a quaint mixture.

CHAPTER XVI OF THE GREAT MR. BULL AND THE CELTIC AND SAXON VIEW OF HIM: AND SOMETHING OF RICHARD ROCKNEY Meanwhile India, our lubber giant, had ceased to kick a leg, and Ireland, our fever-invalid, wore the aspect of an opiate slumber. The volcano we couch on was quiet, the gritty morsel unabsorbed within us at an armistice with the gastric juices. Once more the personification of the country's prosperity had returned to the humming state of roundness. Trade whipped him merrily, and he spun. A fuller sketch of the figure of this remarkable emanation of us and object of our worship, Bull, is required that we may breathe the atmosphere of a story dealing with such very different views of the idol, and learn to tolerate plain-speaking about him. Fancy yourself delayed by stress of weather at an inn or an excursion, and snapped up by some gossip drone of the district, who hearing whither you are bound, recounts the history and nature of the place, to your

ultimate advantage, though you groan for the outer downpour to abate.-Of Bull, then: our image, before the world: our lord and tyrant, ourself in short--the lower part of us. Coldly worshipped on the whole, he can create an enthusiasm when his roast-beef influence mounts up to peaceful skies and the domestic English world spins with him. What he does not like will then be the forbidding law of a most governable people, what he does like the consenting. If it is declared that argument will be inefficacious to move him, he is adored in the form of post. A hint of his willingness in any direction, causes a perilous rush of his devotees. Nor is there reason to suppose we have drawn the fanatical subserviency from the example of our subject India. We may deem it native; perhaps of its origin Aryan, but we have made it our own. Some have been so venturesome as to trace the lordliness of Bull to the protecting smiles of the good Neptune, whose arms are about him to encourage the development of a wanton eccentricity. Certain weeds of the human bosom are prompt to flourish where safeness would seem to be guaranteed. Men, for instance, of stoutly independent incomes are prone to the same sort of wilfulness as Bull's, the salve abject submission to it which we behold in his tidal bodies of supporters. Neptune has done something. One thinks he has done much, at a rumour of his inefficiency to do the utmost. Spy you insecurity?--a possibility of invasion? Then indeed the colossal creature, inaccessible to every argument, is open to any suggestion: the oak-like is a reed, the bull a deer. But as there is no attack on his shores, there is no proof that they are invulnerable. Neptune is appealed to and replies by mouth of the latest passenger across the Channel on a windy night:--Take heart, son John! They will have poor stomachs for blows who intrude upon you. The testification to the Sea-God's watchfulness restores his darling who is immediately as horny to argument as before. Neptune shall have his share of the honours. Ideal of his country Bull has none--he hates the word; it smells of heresy, opposition to his image. It is an exercise of imagination to accept an ideal, and his digestive organs reject it, after the manner of the most beautiful likeness of him conjurable to the mind--that flowering stomach, the sea-anemone, which opens to anything and speedily casts out what it cannot consume. He is a positive shape, a practical corporation, and the best he can see is the mirror held up to him by his bards of the Press and his jester Frank Guffaw. There, begirt by laughing oceanwaves, manifestly blest, he glorifies his handsome roundness, like that other Foam-Born, whom the decorative Graces robed in vestments not so wonderful as printed sheets. Rounder at each inspection, he preaches to mankind from the text of a finger curved upon the pattern spectacles. Your Frenchmen are revolutionising, wagering on tentative politics; your Germans ploughing in philosophy, thumbing classics, composing music of a novel order: both are marching, evolutionising, learning how to kill. Ridiculous Germans! capricious Frenchmen! We want nothing new in musical composition and abstract speculation of an indecent mythology, or political contrivances and schemes of Government, and we do not want war. Peace is the Goddess we court for the hand of her daughter Plenty, and we have won that jolly girl, and you are welcome to the marriagefeast; but avaunt new-fangled theories and howlings: old tunes, tried systems, for us, my worthy friends. Roundness admiring the growth of its globe may address majestic invitation to the leaner kine. It can exhibit to the world that Peace is a most desirable mother-in-law; and it is tempted to dream of capping the

pinnacle of wisdom when it squats on a fundamental truth. Bull's perusal of the Horatian carpe diem is acute as that of the cattle in fat meads; he walks like lusty Autumn carrying his garner to drum on, for a sign of his diligent wisdom in seizing the day. He can read the page fronting him; and let it be of dining, drinking, toasting, he will vociferously confute the wiseacre bookworms who would have us believe there is no such thing as a present hour for man. In sad fact, the member for England is often intoxicate. Often do we have him whirling his rotundity like a Mussulman dervish inflated by the spirit to agitate the shanks, until pangs of a commercial crisis awaken him to perceive an infructuous past and an unsown future, without one bit of tracery on its black breast other than that which his apprehensions project. As for a present hour, it swims, it vanishes, thinner than the phantom banquets of recollection. What has he done for the growth of his globe of brains?--the lesser, but in our rightful posture the upper, and justly the directing globe, through whose directions we do, by feeding on the past to sow the future, create a sensible present composed of both-the present of the good using of our powers. What can he show in the Arts? What in Arms? His bards--O faithless! but they are men--his bards accuse him of sheer cattle-contentedness in the mead, of sterility of brain, drowsihood, mid-noddyism, downright carcase-dulness. They question him to deafen him of our defences, our intellectual eminence, our material achievements, our poetry, our science; they sneer at his trust in Neptune, doubt the scaly invulnerability of the God. They point over to the foreigner, the clean-stepping, braced, self-confident foreigner, good at arms, good at the arts, and eclipsing us in industriousness manual and mental, and some dare to say, in splendour of verse=-our supreme accomplishment. Then with one big fellow, the collapse of pursiness, he abandons his pedestal of universal critic; prostrate he falls to the foreigner; he is down, he is roaring; he is washing his hands of English performances, lends ear to foreign airs, patronises foreign actors, browses on reports from camps of foreign armies. He drops his head like a smitten ox to all great foreign names, moaning 'Shakespeare!' internally for a sustaining apostrophe. He well-nigh loves his poets, can almost understand what poetry means. If it does not pay, it brings him fame, respectfulness in times of reverse. Brains, he is reduced to apprehend, brains are the generators of the conquering energies. He is now for brains at all costs, he has gained a conception of them. He is ready to knock knighthood on the heads of men of brains--even literary brains. They shall be knights, an ornamental body. To make them peers, and a legislative, has not struck him, for he has not yet imagined them a stable body. They require petting, to persuade them to flourish and bring him esteem. This is Mr. Bull, our image before the world, whose pranks are passed as though the vivid display of them had no bad effect on the nation. Doubtless the perpetual mirror, the slavish mirror, is to blame, but his nakedness does not shrink from the mirror, he likes it and he is proud of it. Beneath these exhibitions the sober strong spirit of the country, unfortunately not a prescient one, nor an attractively loveable, albeit of a righteous benevolence, labours on, doing the hourly duties for the sake of conscience, little for prospective security, little to win affection. Behold it as the donkey of a tipsy costermonger, obedient to go without the gift of expression. Its behaviour is honourable under a

discerning heaven, and there is ever something pathetic in a toilful speechlessness; but it is of dogged attitude in the face of men. Salt is in it to keep our fleshly grass from putrefaction; poets might proclaim its virtues. They will not; they are averse. The only voice it has is the Puritan bray, upon which one must philosophise asinically to unveil the charm. So the world is pleased to let it be obscured by the paunch of Bull. We have, however, isolated groups, individuals in all classes, by no means delighting in his representation of them. When such is felt to be the case among a sufficient number, his bards blow him away as a vapour; we hear that he is a piece of our English humour--we enjoy grotesques and never should agree to paint ourselves handsome: our subtle conceit insists on the reverse. Nevertheless, no sooner are the hours auspicious to fatness than Bull is back on us; he is our family goat, ancestral ghost, the genius of our comfortable sluggishness. And he is at times a mad Bull: a foaming, lashing, trampling, horn-driving, excessive, very parlous Bull. It is in his history that frenzies catch him, when to be yoked to him is to suffer frightful shakings, not to mention a shattering of our timbers. It is but in days of the rousing of the under-spirit of the country, days of storm imprudent to pray the advent of, that we are well rid of him for a while. In the interim he does mischief, serious mischief; he does worse than when, a juvenile, he paid the Dannegelt for peace. Englishmen of feeling do not relish him. For men with Irish and Cambrian blood in their veins the rubicund grotesque, with his unimpressionable front and his noisy benevolence of the pocket, his fits of horned ferocity and lapses of hardheartedness, is a shame and a loathing. You attach small importance to images and symbols; yet if they seem representative, and they sicken numbers of us, they are important. The hat we wear, though it is not a part of the head, stamps the character of our appearance and has a positive influence on our bearing. Symbolical decorations will stimulate the vacant-minded to act up to them, they encircle and solidify the mass; they are a sword of division between Celts and Saxons if they are abhorrent to one section. And the Celtic brotherhood are not invariably fools in their sensitiveness. They serve you on the field of Mars, and on other fields to which the world has given glory. These execrate him as the full-grown Golden Calf of heathenish worship. And they are so restive because they are so patriotic. Think a little upon the ideas of unpatriotic Celts regarding him. You have heard them. You tell us they are you: accurately, they affirm, succinctly they see you in his crescent outlines, tame bulk, spasms of alarm and foot on the weaker; his imperviousness to whatsoever does not confront the sensual eye of him with a cake or a fist, his religious veneration of his habitual indulgences, his peculiar forms of nightmare. They swear to his perfect personification of your moods, your Saxon moods, which their inconsiderate spleen would have us take for unmixedly Saxon. They are unjust, but many of them speak with a sense of the foot on their necks, and they are of a blood demanding a worshipworthy idea. And they dislike Bull's bellow of disrespect for their religion, much bruited in the meadows during his periods of Arcadia. They dislike it, cannot forget the sound: it hangs on the afflicted drum of the ear when they are in another land, perhaps when the old devotion to their priest has expired. For this, as well as for material reasons, they hug the hatred they packed up among their bundles of necessaries and relics, in the flight from home, and they instruct their children to keep it burning. They transmit the sentiment of the loathing of Bull, as assuredly they would be incapable of doing, even with the will, were a splendid fire-eyed motherly Britannia the figure sitting in the minds of men for our image

and were not bards of Bull to celebrate his firmness and vindicate his shiftings. and of the simplicity of his attachment. There were occasions when distinguished officials and Parliamentary speakers received the impetus of Rockney's approval and not hesitatingly he stepped behind them to bestow it. Still he had no delight in shuffling a puppetry. Love her as well. Richard Rockney takes front rank. and thus his changes of view were not attributed to a fluctuating devotion. the great lesson of all men. who blew in the trumpet of the country. in whatever fashion it may have been esteemed by the objects propelled. If a bitter experience showed that frequently. The sight of a broken-down plough is mournful. and penitently will he gaze back on that misleading spark-the spectral planet it bids wink to his unreceptive stars--acknowledging him the bare machine for those two to drive. Public allusions to her were greeted with his emphatic assent in a measured pitch of the voice. will be taught in sorrow that there is no life for him but of past and future: his delusion of the existence of a present hour for man will not outlast the season of his eating and drinking abundantly in security. Verily he lives for the present. all for the present. her spiritual director. was Rockney's. He will perceive that it was no more than the spark shot out from the clash of those two meeting forces. and the flourish was no vain show. as wisely. That clear knowledge of the right thing for the country was grasped but by fits by others. and loved her hotly. He meant hard steel to defend the pill he had prescribed for her constitutional state. He has to learn this fact. and the monition for her soul's welfare.--a palpitating figure. Others perchance might equal his love. you had his cordial hand. His calls for them resounded through the wilderness of the wooden. He had a manner of utterance quite in the tone of the familiar of the antechamber for proof of his knowing himself to be this person. A journalist altogether given up to his craft. he was a man of forethought besides being a trenchant writer. Among the patriotic of stout English substance. no instrument of enjoyment. and he was profoundly. not to say inspiredly. penetrable to thought. solitary in its depth. but the one thing to do with it is to remove it from the field. her man-at-arms. was intimate with her resources. He lives by reading rearward and seeing vanward. they travelled scarce a tottering stagger farther than they were precipitated. Enough to profit them this way and yonder as one best can! You know the newspaper Press is a mighty engine. considering the audience he had gained. He has no actual life save in power of imagination. not less than eminently. he would have preferred automatic figures. the lover of Great Britain. Any solid conviction of a capable head of a certainty impressed upon the world. indeed generally. He was in one her physician. actually none the vigilant circumspection. Nor did he pretend to special privileges in assuming his militant stand. or an instantaneous flourish of the rapier. notwithstanding that the commencement of his journalistic career smelt . Furthermore there may be a future closed to him if he has thrown too extreme a task of repairing on that bare machine of his. but simply that he had studied her case. was a sign of his willingness to let the shadow of any man adopting his course obscure him. they passed out of the range of criticism upon inconsistency. and not a stolid concrete of our traditional old yeoman characteristic. He did not so much write articles upon the health of his mistress as deliver Orphic sentences. the shaping forethought. The act. alive to change. the wretched consolation afforded by a side glance at a more enlightened passion. none the wisdom of it. then all his weapons to back you.

the vaster than the island England. the main secret was his art of writing round English. It was the personal throb. Had not Rockney been given to a high expression of opinion. lapses of cowardice: how one man stood against a host for law or humanity. Feeling the nerve of strength. Premiers of parties might be Captains of the State for Rockney: Rockney was the premier's pilot. how crowds looked on at the beating of a woman. the weakness . reluctant indication of our not being the men we were. would present us probably the most prodigious Gigantomachy in literary polemics. Government was lashed for sleeping upon shaky ordinances. our army and navy. Reefs here. on our courts of Law. He did away with the Biscay billow of the leading article--Bull's favourite prose--bardic construction of sentences that roll to the antithetical climax. Style cast her aegis over him. Fervidness is the core of style. his relish of the bluff besides. and if he will run the country on to it. whose foamy top is offered and gulped as equivalent to an idea. he would often have been exposed bare to hostile shafts. colonists were gibbeted for the maltreating of natives: the ring and fervour of the notes on daily events told of Rockney's hand upon the national heart--with a faint. Woe to the country as well. Deeds of valour were noted by him. The fire of a mind was translucent in Press columns where our public had been accustomed to the rhetoric of primed scribes. The ardour of his temperament suffused the directness of his intelligence to produce it. struck forcibly. Writing of such a kind as Rockney's was new to a land where the political opinions of Joint Stock Companies had rattled Jovian thunders obedient to the nod of Bull. and still he would be busy picking up needles and threads in the island. One secret of the belief in his love of his country was the readiness of Rockney's pen to support our nobler patriotic impulses. And he was not devoid of style. sometimes to command. He was a man of forethought. It was a drunken captain. He was a steam ram that drove straight at the bulky broadside of the enemy.of sources entirely opposed to the conclusions upon which it broadened. or woe to him. a more illumined prescience. our colonies. But Rockney's combat with his fellow-politicians of the Press partook of the Swiftian against the Johnsonian in form. yonder a foul course: this is the way for you! The refusal of the captain to go this way caused Rockney sincerely to discredit the sobriety of his intellect. run and leap-a natural style. an enforced. how a good fight was maintained in some sly ring between two of equal brawn: and manufacturers were warned of the consequences of their iniquities. was always alert for debate. His eye was on our commerce. the lover of Great Britain: he shouted his directions in the voice of the lover of his mistress. An encounter between Swift and Johnson. Or how if a traitorous? We point out the danger to him. on our streets and alleys. urged to rebuke. Simple unfitness can scarcely be conceived of a captain having our common senses and a warranted pilot at his elbow. he was the foremost. plain in fervour. But after all. instead of laborious Latinised periods: and the secret of the art was his meaning what he said. dexterously. It is not imaginable among comparative pygmies. were it imaginable. the captain by the prophetic intimations of a holier alliance. He was a tough opponent for his betters in education. Though not alone in working the change. shallows there. if Rockney's directions for steering were unheeded. and the two qualities made his weakness and strength. He wore an armour in which he could walk. we proclaim him guilty either of inebriety or of treason--the alternatives are named: one or the other has him.

he was the oracle and martyr of superior vision: and as in affairs of business and the weighing of men he was of singularly cool sagacity. dictate. but who gave ear to his prescience? Few: the echo of the country now and then. As to the gobbling age. you are in peril of collapsing: show it nothing but the likeness of its dull animal face. Furiously we disagree with you. midway in his running. or reveal him. except Time. mere commentators upon events. though ideas remain closely consecutive and the utterance resonant. Between gouty blood and luminous brain the strife had set in which does not conduce to unwavering sobriety of mind. Ask him. what a public! Serve it honourably. His defects as well as his advantages as a politician preserved to him this virtue. Thus there was nothing to teach him. and journalism is the food of the age. dear me! those jog-trot sermonisers. hard on the downright. Rather no journalism at all for him! He thought the office of the ordinary daily preacher cowlike. however. while his opponents were equally insensible to the weakness under the force of his blows. and annual should be the uplifting of his voice instead of diurnal. These reflections within us! Might not one almost say that the retreat for the prophet is the wilderness. open to the humours of the distinct discrimination of things in their roughness. He sees in time little else. . whose trick is to turn corners of unanticipated sharpness. and leave the directly seeing and ardent to dash at walls. O insensate mechanism! and we will let you know you have a stomach. Such a man has the stuff of the born journalist. without-which incessant journalism is a gabble. thoroughly to trust to his voice when he delivered it in ardour--circumstance coming to be of daily recurrence. digesting nought. Great love creates forethoughtfulness. His gadfly stung him to warn.was masked to him. far from the hustled editor's desk. and he had begun to churn it. what he thinks of quick breathing: he will answer that to be a shepherd on the downs is to be more a man. the scrawl of them on the dark of the undeveloped dazzles his brain. that he may feel in conscience worthy of a hearing and have perpetually a conscience in his charge! For on what is his forethought founded? Does he try the ring of it with our changed conditions? Bus a man of forethought who has to be one of our geysers ebullient by the hour must live days of fever. Insisting on a future. O gobbling age! swallowing all. He has to do it for his own sake. prognosticate. question himself! how constantly wrestle with himself! And if he be a writer ebullient by the hour. you are steadily inflated. manage somehow to keep up the sale of their journals: advertisements do not flow and ebb with them as under the influence of a capricious moon. And. We are in you to lead you or work you pangs! Rockney could not be a mild sermoniser commenting on events. the Government not often. He was sure of his love. he could not do homage to the belying simulacrum of the present. the knowledge of the firmly-based materialism of his nature caused him. Ah. how snappishly suspect himself. it really thinks better of him than he of it. His apprehensions distemper his blood. if only to spare his blood the distemper? A fund of gout was in Rockney's. us too you have swallowed. Never had he been an adulator of Bull. How rigidly should the man of forethought govern himself. After a term of prolonged preachification he is compelled to lash that he may less despise the age. his very sincereness twists him awry.

he saw the well-minded valorous people. and the hatred of a Celt.In the season of prosperity Rockney lashed the old fellow with the crisis he was breeding for us. the alternately braggart and poltroon. despisers of death. has a figure of hugeous animalism supplied to his malign contempt. and just men too. but the prevalence of Saxon blood is evinced by the public disregard of any Celtic conception of the honourable and the loveable. The revolutionist in English journalism was too devoutly patriotic to belabour even a pantomime mask that was taken as representative of us for the disdainful fun of it. Compared with the bolts discharged at Bull by Rockney's artillery. so that the Celt anxious to admire is rebutted. the possibly great in the graver strife ahead. Rockney's historic England. to appease an animus. saw the country incarnate in Bull. nor a people hardening to Spartan lineaments in the fire. thinking to do justice. whether of war or social suffering. he prefers to rub the rawness of his wound and be ready to pitch his cap in the air for it. Celt and Saxon are much inmixed with us. The country has gone the wrong road. It is not seen. constituted their essential merit. graceless to a scoffer. Behind the plethoric lamp. something sweeter than the slow animal well-meaningness his placable brethren point his attention to. might soften him. Our monumental image of the Misuse of Peace he pointed out unceasingly as at a despot constructed by freemen out of the meanest in their natures to mock the gift of liberty. and though he can understand the perils of a severance. out of sheer bloodloathing of a connection that offers him nothing to admire. the real English whereas an alienated Celtic satirist. but it may yet cross over to the right one. though painful. at most a roguish screw-kneed clown to be whipped out of him. the repressed sentiment of admiration-or passion of fealty and thirst to give himself to a visible brighter--is an element of the division: meditative young Patrick O'Donnell early in his reflections had noted that:--and it is partly a result of our daily habit of tossing the straw to the monetary world and doting on ourselves in the mirror. Con O'Donnell for a diversion. Some spirited brilliancy. through his vivid fancy and his disesteem. that none of them were bardic of Bull. respecters of life. sweating in labour that he may gorge the fruits. and writing on his daily topics with strenuous original vigour. His articles of foregone years were an extraordinary record of events or conditions foreseen: seductive in the review of them by a writer who has to be still foreseeing: nevertheless. . now gasping puffs of panic. A man of forethought using the Press to spur Parliament to fitly represent the people. worshippers of a discerned God of Laws. stupefied by the contemplation of the mask: his vision was of the great of old. a nation under a monstrous defacement. until our habitual doings are viewed in a bemused complacency by us. Both below and above the blind mass of discontent in his island. he has Bull on the eye. now blown with the fleshpots. and the scumsurface of the country is flashed about as its vital being. nothing to hug to his heart. and when prostration ensued no English tongue was loftier in preaching dignity and the means of recovery. consolatory to think of. when it perceives that we were prophetic. quick as he is to catch at images. and that our sound man would have acted wisely in heeding some of the prescriptions. issue of glorious grandsires. and the living heroic England to slip from that dull hide in a time of trial. he cannot see. Captain Con O'Donnell's were popgun-pellets. Only Rockney fired to chasten. And this is the creature to whose tail he is tied! Hereditary hatred is approved by critical disgust. iron men to meet disaster. some persistent generosity (other than the guzzle's flash of it).

He has. and not to England. they may put an extinguisher on the Irish Vesuvian. are condemned to expend their genius upon the abstract. if there be a brain. and he will soon subside into his domestic. You have not yet. in combating him. He cannot admire it. the quaint. given to be songful and loving. a member of strange sects--he so inveterate in faithfulness to the hoar and the legendary!--Anything rather than Anglican. though he is orderly and serviceable.even though. will like an able and gallant enemy better than a grudgingly just. To pronounce it his childishness provokes the retort upon your presented shape. on hearing how that poets bring . and he does bloom beautifully in the rays he courts. Even in a Bull. Be certain that the material grounds of division are not all. you will know that for half a century you have appeared bottom upward to mankind. should be sheepish in hope for love. whom you call the Welshman. but the sentimental are here very strong. lumbersome. Speaking to the brain of the country. of ardent temperament. allured his imagination to the idea of England. Despite the passion for his mountains and the boon of your raising of the interdict (within a hundred years) upon his pastors to harangue him in his native tongue. do not report him at all. The material points in a division are always the stronger. harps to wild Wales. lend no ear either to his panics or his testiness. The brain should lead. But there is reason to think that America has caught the imagination of the Cambrian Celt: names of Welshmen are numerous in the small army of the States of the Union. not very deeply injured within a century. they and their children. and where men take soldier-service they are usually fixed. Once free of him. Nature they read spiritually or sensually. Banish him your revels and your debatings. dull. they return him his hearty antipathy. the picturesque. it is his particular form of strength to require one for his proper blooming. privacy. You may be so self-satisfied as to dispense with an ideal: your yokefellow is not. seek to be loved. And your poets are in a like predicament. beneficent as he can dream of being. for that man can be admired. and banish Bull. Decline to let that old-yeomanturned alderman stand any longer for the national man. politic friend. are unable to be epical or lyrical of him. their affection likewise is undefined. and the Celt. and becomes contentedly a transatlantic citizen. varied by pothouse. Here is one. and deride for his delight in songful gatherings. always shrinkingly apart from him. He too. like Rockney. They swell to a resemblance of their patron if they stoop to woo his purse. he sets the teeth of the Celt gnashing at him. especially none to his rages. he gladly ships himself across the waters traversed by his Prince Madoc of tradition. yet to be loved you must be a little perceptibly admirable. prohibit him your Christmas. when his notions are in a similar state of inversion. his Cambrian highlands. Pass the laws. They are in the Celtic dilemma of standing at variance with Bull. Your poets are the most persuasive of springs to a lively general patriotism. Believe in a future and banish that gross obscuration of you. The Cymry bear you no hatred. Gaelic Scots wind the same note of repulsion. And you have wondered at the absence of love for you under so astounding a presentation. Ah then. he leaves you and forgets you. one is sure of the power of a resolute sign from it to dismiss the brainless. goes a step nearer to the bourne of pacification than Press and Parliament reflecting the popular opinion that law must be passed to temper Ireland's eruptiveness.

The theme is chosen and must be treated as a piper involved in his virtue conceives it: that is. otherwise it will wreak circular mischief instead of illumining. repulsive to write. and treating of a blood. the backbone of him. tickling. melting to the iron man. Ineffectual is that encouragement. Were he in the fire. Him the gay manipulators propitiate who look at him through Literature and the Press. been seen to thump the midriff and rally them for their shyness of it. At his pleasures he is anti-hymnic. it has been said. not the country. what they think and say of one another. Better worship that than nothing. his parasites upon him. our England of the ancient fortitude and the future incarnation. or the explosive powders are being secretly laid. Why not in a tale? It is he. May plumpness be their portion. the wretch dreads. and the wherefore of our abusing of ourselves. growling at the smallest . realistically. before he stretches his inanimate length. I protest. pleasantly pinching of Bull is one of those offices which the simple starveling piper regards with afresh access of appetite for the well-picked bone of his virtue. and there will. can afford to hear. as carrion to batten on. and then you will not be surprised by his irreverence. it would be different. but with the realism of the active brain and heart conjoined. not with Bull's notion of the realism of the butcher's shop and the pendent legs of mutton and blocks of beef painted raw and glaring in their streaks. whose example teaches you to shun the plaguey tale that carries fright: and so you find him sour at business and sick of his relaxings. telling them he doubts them true poets while they abstain from singing him to the world-him. having the harpoon of the inevitable slayer of the merely fleshly in his oils. Rome burns. He has perceived the virtues of Peace. or rather inter-drone. thinks this poor starveling. you were conducted to a like point of view? Self-worship. and across the pulpit-cushions. He and his thousand Macheaths are dancing the country the giddy pace. the shots are aimed which seem so malignant. He is the obstruction. and be his piper for his gifts. is to descend to a carnival deep underneath. This interlude. repellent to song. not against the country. An ideal of country. You are requested simply to recollect that there is another beside you who sees the object obliquely. While he reigns. as it is better for flames to be blown out than not to ascend. of Great Britain. often without knowing that they are divided. and against him. in the end. to wave as a standard over their fraternal marching. That ghastly apparition of the fleshly present is revealed to him as a dead whale. and offend not the Pierides. hating both because he harnesses himself in turn bestially to each. without the brother eye for the need of virtuousness to make good use of them and inspire the poet. is conceivable that will be to the taste of Celt and Saxon in common. the thing we want and can have.praise to nations. To humour him. and they never hanged for it! But the flattering. brave England. be many a crater of scoria in the island. can hardly be excluded from a theme dramatising Celtic views. as in fact he can now understand his Shakespeare to have done. is preferable to no trimming of the faculty. and the things refreshing the centre of him. What if. to which the idea of country must shine resplendently if we would have it running at full tide through the arteries. your all for animal pleasure in the holiday he devours and cannot enjoy. The reasons for the division of Celt and Saxon. Preserve your worship. His own enrolled unrhythmical bardic troops (humorous mercenaries when Celts) do his trumpeting best. but worship does not necessarily cease with the extinction of this of the voraciously carnal. like airy Macheath at Society. Let Bull boo his drumliest at such talk: it is. if the object fills your optics.

But.' Her companion looked up at the lighted sky. Now the rain is over. . for despite a manful smile his complexion was telltale. Oh! the beautiful .' not every chapter can be sunshine. But you should have gone down to the cabin with Father Boyle and you would have been sure of not catching cold. and allow his pleasures to inspire a dose of thoughtfulness. The scene of frayed waters all rosy-golden. and then did the tricksy Southwest administer grisly slaps to right and left.admixture of them.' she confided the fact to herself vocally. were a bath for every sense of life. because she would keep her place on deck from beginning to end of the voyage. then. look at it! And it's my first view of England. Well. illumination. 'You would not be advised. and golden-banded heathery height. vivid distances. He seemed in his clear-edged mass King of this brave new boundless world built in a minute out of the wreck of the old. and--who knows?-become a brighter fellow. We have worn through a cloud with cloudy discourses. 'And aren't you the same and worse? And not liking it either. An hour back the vessel was labouring through rueful chasms under darkness. the billows to be kissing fingers to him. Her faith in the capacity of Irish frieze to turn a deluge of the deeps driven by an Atlantic gale was shaken by the time she sighted harbour.' a gentleman beside her said after a delicate pause to let her impulsive naturalism of utterance fly by unwounded. was resplendent for those of our recent sea-farers who could lift an eye to enjoy it. the rollers shattered up the cliff to have run to extinction to scale him. 'Dear! and I'm wet to the skin. and down at the pools in . . breaking to flights of blue. but we are in a land of shifting weathers. and had a slight shudder to find herself trickling within. if he would but chirp a little over his work. when. and drenching the locks of a young lady who sat cloaked and hooded in frieze to teach her wilfulness a lesson. Freshness. your carriage is at the door. especially when she shed showers by flapping a batlike wing of the cloak. I fear. I'll say it's a beautiful country. Sir!' she replied. then salt air. You could believe the breast of the mountain to be heaving. one to be rescued from the pole-axe. 'coelum crebris imbribus ac nebulis foedum. he would be happier. CHAPTER XVII CROSSING THE RUBICON Rough weather on the Irish sea discharged a pallid file of passengers from the boat at Holyhead just as the morning sun struck wave and mountain with one of the sudden sparkling changes which our South-welters have in their folds to tell us after a tumultuous night that we have only been worried by Puck. whizzing spray across the starboard beam. 'But there 's no harm in salt. with the tinted sand. the country smiles and the wet highway waves a beckoning hand.

enough to stand for a resemblance. I'll be there before noon. and she retorted: 'What sort of a night has it been below. She could have rallied him. You may spy him on the . he rolled and snatched and tottered on his way to them. and much of her spirit was the same. When Time goes reaping he will gather us a sheaf. And my poor child! what sort of a night has it been above. the rosy red of her lips. thank ye. was just such a south-western sky as April drove above her. he said: 'I should like to be on the top of that hill now. she drank the scene. and was very like a horse fretful for the canter. Father Boyle came climbing up the ladder. He laughed: the reason for the variation of exercise was conclusive.' 'You want to have a last gaze over to Erin?' 'No. or I would have burst from it to take a ducking with felicity. He flung up his head and sniffed the air. I haven't thrown up my soul. Mr. 'They say he looks on Ireland. I love him. the same in colour and quickness. and accepted the gentleman's help of an arm.' The young lady's eyes flew to the top. Surely 'tis a glorious morning?' Mr. but she forbore. 'The captain'll have a quieter passage across. out of which the picture springs. 'Tis past. I hadn't the courage. and his name is Caer Gybi. my dear. and the dark. I thought myself nigh on it once or twice. and there's the comfort! You did well to be out of that herring-barrel. her hair. that's the most I can say. her laughing eyes showed the readiness. But I do. Father Boyle?' Her twinkle was livelier than his. He repressed a disposition to shudder. I 've read in books. though. Colesworth. Colesworth responded heartily in praise of the morning. and it was one of our Saints gave him the name. the blue. Colesworth. her eyes. uncertain of his legs. Her face. it's to walk and feel the breeze. 'There's our last lurch.tarpaulin at his feet. He was beginning to fancy that he felt the warmth of spring sunshine on his back. where a soft calm swell received them with the greeting of civilised sea-nymphs. and with the anticipated ecstasy of soon jumping out of wet clothes into dry. glory to the breakwater!' exclaimed Father Boyle. saying: 'Thank ye. Mr. Kathleen?' He said it rather twinkling. But who describes the spirit? No one at the gates of the field of youth.' 'Won't you require a little rest?' 'Sure and I've had it sitting here all night!' said she. so like as to give Miss Kathleen an idea of the comparison. and good morning. And an amazing kind steward it was. with the threaded locks about forehead and cheeks. compassionate in archness. or I'd have counted the man for some one else. as the boat pitched finally outside the harbour fence. 'Purgatory past is good for contemplation.

Colesworth.' 'To submission to the laws. Mr. 'Is it quite fair to the country and to Miss O'Donnell to impress on her before she knows us that England is the enemy?' 'Habit. O'Donnell's that evening. For there is one.' Miss Kathleen said she would go below to get the handbags from the stewardess. I hoped we had come to a better understanding. no doubt. from watching the stars all night. Colesworth's brows had a little darkened over the Rev. you have a noble minority at work. You were kind enough to instruct me in a good many things I shall be sure to profit by. sir.' he said.' 'Sir. He took two or three impatient steps up and down with his head bent. Kathleen. I like Irishmen so well that if the whole land were in revolt I should never call it the enemy's country.' 'You talk like a song. 'We 'll hope your writings may do service to mend the breach. Mr. if you remember the whisky and the fumes of our tobacco at one o'clock!' 'I shall recollect the evening with the utmost pleasure. and more 's the pity.' 'No. though. habit! we've got accustomed to the perspective and speak accordingly.' said the priest.' she said. There's a breach visible. It's not all cloud when the high wind blows. as not objecting to stand next to alone. 'Pardon me.pier. As my friend Captain Con O'Donnell says. Mr. and wonderfully bright. We'll be meeting him on the landing. 'tis my duty to do it as pastor and citizen. I wish I could have spent more time in Ireland. there's one. Colesworth.' 'They did appear.' 'If he's not in bed. Gentleman's last remark. As it is. and it's wide and deep.' 'The atmosphere was genial. that you were going to hold out a hand and lead your flock to the right sort of fellowship with us. as you know.' 'I really thought. it's plain to the naked eye as a pair of particularly fat laundry drawers hung out to dry and ballooned in .' said Miss Kathleen.' 'Couldn't I rattle a throat if I were at home. and I take you for one of the noblest. my dear. Colesworth. Mr. to more than that. Father!' 'Ah! we're in the enemy's country now.' 'Excellently spoken.' 'I thought you agreed with me that good efforts are being made on our side to mend the breach. judging from our conversation at Mrs. 'He must have had a fifty-lynx power of sight for that. 'I saw them come out and go in. You spoke with friendly warmth.

nor probably. and by her vast ability got the entire management. Colesworth. sir. a title of distinction in itself! He was congratulated not less cordially for his being so fortunate as to know Miss Mattock. in short: for he continued to look argumentative after all had been said. the captain armed. Temporarily we are in cordial intercourse. She. you young ones! At the hotel they heard that Captain Con O'Donnell was a snug sleeper upstairs. Colesworth said he was the brother of the lady in question. and Father Boyle wanted to go to bed for refreshment. would the sentiment of national disunion have struck his mind: it was difficult to him in the description. he had also the pleasure of an acquaintance with Miss Mattock. Proceed and trip along. and the captain. All very transparent to pastoral observation. Colesworth might perchance be a relative of the highly intelligent admirable lady who had undertaken the secretaryship. Miss Kathleen returned to deck carrying her bags. with a boy running after it. to a certain hereditary share of brains greatly to be envied: brother of Miss Colesworth. of Miss Mattock's benevolent institution. and he. let alone Kathleen. news of the family in Ireland and England was exchanged.' Mr. or Kathleen would have had an Irish kiss to greet her landing in England. But the cousinly salute was little delayed. This. His comparison touches the sentiment of disunion. He was vehemently congratulated on the relationship. Or perhaps he threw a coveting eye on sweet Miss Kathleen and had his own idea of mending a stitch of the breach in a quite domestic way. was happy. but on the road to a fortune. had not been the kernel of the truth. yielded one of her bags. however. Colesworth and the captain bowed to an introduction. the Holy Father would have a word to say. the captain himself very soon informed them. He considered his Rev. not by any means likely to catch it. and Kathleen was an airy gossamer. and stretching away like a corpulent frog in the act of swimming on the wind. friend to be something of a slippery fish. inasmuch as it was already an article in the decrees of fashion among the nobility and gentry of both sexes in the metropolis to have their linen and laces washed at the Mattock laundry. immediately cried out that Mr. and subsequently an amiable dissension arose on the part of the young lady and Mr. The gentleman had to descend. and was conducting it with such success that it was fast becoming a grief to the generous heart of the foundress of the same to find it not only self-paying. and then Mr. which bore witness. at mention of his name. He had fancied they would not cross the Channel on so rattlesome a night. Captain Con retained the hand of Father Boyle and squeezed it during his . Colesworth. one of a million. or to keep it if he did. while Father Boyle's opinion of him likewise referred him to an elemental substance. For the men it is another matter: that is as the case may be. if he had. Mr. The maids of his Church do not espouse her foes. If so. but why should they not be left to their chirruping youthfulness? The captain was not in view. though doubly laden. Mr. Colesworth had not ever seen such a pair of laundry drawers inflated to symbolise the breach between Ireland and England. of slow movement-earth.extension--if mayhap you've ever seen the sight of them in that state:-just held together by a narrow neck of thread or button.

no. my dear . I gave him his chance of the last vacant seat up to the last hour. Kathleen: and one of them as big an heiress as any in England. I think it was in Germany. and there she has it.' . Poor Philip--yes. he has written books. Father Boyle. Adister?' 'Not a syllable. and so I'm proud to tell her I offer her none. . I have a wife. and make a powerful row when it does. There's my contest! I had urgent business in Ireland. I am. no fear. and that bludgeon sun of India knocked him down. .' said the priest. She likes a trifling surprise too.' remarked the captain. my dear friend. That's to come. and Philip might have saved his kinsman if he had liked. Kathleen answered: 'He made friends with our Patrick on the Continent. Irish or no. round. It's a secret with a time-fuse warranted to explode safe enough when the minutes are up. He called on us coming and called on us going and we came over together. But it's when the Parliamentary voting is on comes the connubial pull. Ay. bearing a letter from Patrick. he does. She's fond of history. you'll see him. and she 's a good woman. I count on her kindness. we love him. He means to be one of their writers on the newspapers. you'll find. a dear good soul. she hates fiction.eulogies. Not a word to our friend up yonder. and now the die is cast and this time I 'm off to it. there 's no mightier compliment to one's wife. 'But you haven't confided anything of it to Mrs. and Master Philip divides me against my domestic self. and he yawned frightfully. and there he lies. He was invalided at the right moment for him. He studies everything. Colesworth went upstairs to his room not unflattered. They're nursing him. Philip's no fool. at the same time dispensing nods and winks and sunny sparkles upon Kathleen. Why Bayard in the nineteenth century's a Bedlamite. he's a gallant soldier. Mr. and no contest to follow by my fireside. She'll know it when it's history. alive to his duty. 'You're for a nap to recompose you. and he might have accepted the seat and spared me my probation: he's not married.' said Miss Kathleen. But let that be: I serve duty too. He had only to say the word: I could have done all the business for him. but she's a savage patriot. and that fall from his horse finished the business. But he'll get up. always willing to let me go. It is all right over there. and came to us to study the old country. ?' said Con. Oh! Philip! Ease your heart about Philip. 'But tell me: our Philip?' 'Books!' Con exclaimed. He's on his couch--Mars convalescent: a more dreadful attraction to the ladies than in his crimson plumes! If the fellow doesn't let slip his opportunity! with his points of honour and being an Irish Bayard. So I tell him. There he is. yes! we 're sorry to see him flat all his length. Oh! we can whip up the business to a nice little bowl of froth-flummery. She's a good woman. The flattery enveloped him in the pleasant sense of a somehow now established companionship for the day with a pleasant person from whom he did not wish to separate. I suppose?' 'A walk over! a pure ceremonial. 'It's hard to discover a man in these days who hasn't written books. 'You made the gentleman's acquaintance.

seeing her trip aloft. and after assisting to half disrobe the scarce animate figure. flurried a withdrawal of them. doesn't know the sensation. if ever girl in this world!' 'I sat on deck all night.'Then he's coming all right. 'And 'tis a curious fact that every man in that condition seems enviable to men on their legs. having the chance. because of a qualm.' Kathleen said.' Captain Con assented. 'Not for . who looks as if he were waiting the return of the tide. Patrick O'Donnell. or not far off it.' Away she went. and as for patriotic inflammation. 'Of course. I'll order breakfast for four in a quiet corner where we can converse--which. departed on his mission of the sedative. At the breakfast for three he was able to tell Kathleen that the worthy Father was warm. and that it should be hot. which lent itself like an artist's lay-model to the operation. by this time. Colesworth would keep me company. Stay. 'He 's a soldier.' The attempt at a formation of the word produced a cavernous yawn a volume of the distressful deep to the beholder. I'll soon be dressed for breakfast. asked dozens of questions.' said the captain. And similarly with death. .' 'He could hardly do less. in the ocean of sleep. young Mr. I'm under an obligation to your cavalier.' Father Boyle interposed his hand. won't be possible in the presence of that gaping oyster of a fellow. delivered a moan on her behalf. 'Her heart's been heavy. talked of his Rubicon. declaring that his experience overnight could pronounce it good.' . sir? You've made acquaintance with my cousin. who was no longer in the resemblance of a gaping oyster on the borders of the ebb. but the picture of the finish of the leap across is a taking one. by the way. He proposed bed and a sedative therein.' 'Yes.' said Mr. and a good one. and looks like a strapped bit of steel after the night's tumbling.' Kathleen cried. suggested the answers. These chops are done as if Nature had mellowed their juiciness. . I rejoice to hear.' he tried to add 'four. is he?' said Kathleen. 'I'm young as that too. 'You deserve them. Colesworth. 'Full fathom five the Father lies. praised his wife. we'd rather not.' 'Oh! but he's coming round. and on his way to complete restoration. through his hearing or seeing my name and suspecting I had a sister.' said Con.' 'They are so nice. but he 's nothing more. with Patrick wandering and Philip on his back. So he led his tired old friend to the bedroom. 'The country is not disturbed. and Mr. And how did you find Ireland. 'She's got an appetite. But that notwithstanding. and you'll go and stroke down mother with that.

'That is. hadn't he?' 'He had. he gave you a letter of introduction to his family!' said Con. The lady he was for seeing. Now for an egg. if you'd like to have an idea of a young Catherine or a Semiramisminus an army and a country. As to Ireland. And let me tell you that the Pen demands it of us. my dear. and it's drowned! Had he seen.' 'Not disturbed! no! with a rotten potato inside it paralysing digestion!' exclaimed Con. There's nothing she's not capable of aiming at.'So the doctor thinks his patient is doing favourably! And you cottoned to Patrick? And I don't wonder. and the end of it was a trifle sanguinary. Where was it?' 'We met in Trieste. the harvest was only middling good last year. Colesworth. 'And permit me to add. Mr.' 'I heard of it in England last year. particularly well suited to her nature. under her father's roof. he was fresh from Vienna when I met him. 'Bless the honey heart of the girl! Life's in you. do you know. 'Did she come through it safely?' 'Without any personal disfigurement: and is in England now. though not perhaps on that account. 'But she's a grand creature. Colesworth too can take a sight at the Sea-God after a night of him.' 'And that's the bit of luck we depend on. and you ought to know her. Colesworth. He was about to start by one of the Austrian boats for the East. I'm glad to see that Mr. 'Now Patrick had been having a peep at Vienna. meditating fresh adventures. A cloud too much.' Kathleen replied.' said Mr. and she suffered a disappointment also. It augurs magnificently for a future career.' . and saying: 'He was disappointed. Mr. 'To be sure. anybody in Vienna?--you were not long together at Trieste?' Mr. The first of the requisites is a stout stomach--before a furnished head! I'd not pass a man to be anything of a writer who couldn't step ashore from a tempest and consume his Titan breakfast. She has great notions of the power of the British Press and the British purse--each in turn as a key to the other. was just then embarking on an adventure of a romantic character. that Patrick's choice of a friend is mine on trust. Colesworth. And there's pretty well nothing and nobody she wouldn't make use of. and calls for fuel. Colesworth had sufficient quickness to perceive that the two questions could be answered as one.' said Con.' 'I think I'll eat an egg.' Kathleen cried: 'Ye 're talking of the lady who was Miss Adister--I can guess--Ah!' She humped her shoulders and sent a shudder up her neck.' revealed that he and Patrick had been long enough together to come to terms of intimacy. Kathleen.

shows you to be eminently a stranger to the official duties. in spite of the cry of my conscience--a poor infant below the waters.' remarked the young practitioner. Do you know Rockney? He's the biggest single gun they've got. for you can't leave it gaping.' said Mr. the event would be wanting. disapproved of himself.' 'Rockney. and capitulating what I didn't think at all. and the journalist has to cram it. Colesworth. and he's mad for this country.' 'That remark. but ask him about the public. I've been one in the whirr of them. I've walked the better half of Donegal alone. thought of Kathleen as a daughter of Erin--a privileged and inviolate order of woman in the minds of his countrymen--and wriggling internally over a remainder scruple said: 'Mr. 'This morning?' the captain asked her. 'I am neither a correspondent nor a reporter. 'Tis the necessity of the profession. it must be filled. 'When I've done. we indulge our hallucination of immunity. She saw his dilemma in his doubtful look.'We are qualifying for the literary craft.' 'I'm unattached at present. and if I were. Colesworth. Miss O'Donnell. relating what I hadn't quite heard. Not every journalist can say as much. And if it is my reproach that I left it to the perils of drowning.' said Mr. Sure it's yourself knows as well as anybody. There's Rockney. approved of him. and won't be endured by him.' the latter said. 'Journalism is a maw." sir: But wait and tell me what you think of him after tossing him his meat for a certain number of years.' . casting up ejaculatory bubbles of protestation. 'has the tone of a man disappointed of the dictatorship. Colesworth mayhap has to write a bit in the morning. While you're discussing matters with Father Boyle. sir. you'll hear the menagerie-keeper's opinion of the brute that mauled his loins.' 'It's better not to think of him quite as a beast. 'Outside the wheels of the machine. and along the coast I mean to go.' said Mr. Colesworth.' 'The profession will not impose that necessity upon me. so when nature and circumstance won't combine to produce the stuff. we have recourse to the creative arts.' Captain Con eyed the protector. that I can walk a day long and take care of my steps. it's my pride that I continued to transmit air enough to carry on the struggle. 'Infinitely better: and I like your "guile. I--know you're burning to. and our private opinion is detected as a discord by the mighty beast.' said Kathleen. sir. Captain Con.' observed the captain. The Press is the voice of the mass. 'It's for a walk in the wind up Caer Gybi. and this morning I'll have a protector. and like anything else which perpetually distends for matter.

' said she. if you can. the cloud that frowned. the green of the earth greening out from under wings of shadow. Colesworth: a memorable walk in the recollections of the scribe. Captain Con permitted her to take the walk up Caer Gybi alone with Mr. The captain's eyes twinkled on him. and has been raging astray politically ever since. I shall find her in London. his attempt at it confused his ideas of his expressive powers. with a turn for adventure and enterprise: it's rare fun: he 's nibbling. or at our lodgings at a Surrey farm we've taken to nurse my cousin Captain Philip O'Donnell invalided from Indian awful climate!-on my return.' 'I'll not forget. The captain applauded the fancy as a pleasing delusion of the young sprigs of Journalism. None the less. denied the conclusiveness of French generalisations. You must make her acquaintance. and useful to our party. Colesworth. Colesworth fancied. He said to her before she started: 'Don't forget he may be a clever fellow with that pen of his. Resist her. he had a fondness for them: they stamped a radiant day in his mind. he'll be hooked. If it isn't a woman. It was one of our giant days to his emotions. He spoke as one indicating a thread to suggest a cable. beyond the resources of rhetoric to have done it equally. But wait for him too. and you 'll make a decent stand against Lucifer. I'm not Irish born. She has beauty. the mountain ranges holding hands about an immensity of space. her noticing you is a pretty compliment to your pen. thinking how readily he would back smart Miss Kathleen to do the trick. Oddly too. which ascribed to women universal occult dominion. when I hope to renew the acquaintance. and he was unused to the fetters of metre: and although the verse was never seen by man. you'll find. He's a grand piece of ordnance. while scourging the lines with criticism. that he was proof against feminine blandishments in the direction of his writings. and points him. then. you know. that primes him. I suppose it's hardly the poor creature's fault. we have to fight him. . with all respect for French intelligence.' Mr. And now he 's nibbling at a bait--it 's fun: the lady I mentioned. discharges him. and lost her last year. the cloud that glowed. Poor fellow! I pity him. and particularly memorable to him through the circumstance that it insisted on a record in verse. This was the day of Captain Con's crossing the Rubicon between the secret of his happiness and a Parliamentary career.'Then you do know Rockney!' shouted Captain Con. She's a niece of my wife's and I'll introduce you. ay. because of the wonderful likeness of the young lady to the breezy weather and the sparkles over the deep. That 'll be consoling. Mr. For the good of his party. and traced all great affairs to small intrigues. Colesworth. and what's more. And supposing she rolls you up and pitches you over. he said. if need were. 'That's the man in a neat bit of drawing. Mr. and hold your own against her. she has brains. He had a sweet Irish lady for his wife. Upon this. and tell me by and by.

and schoolmaster when mature a visibly limited creature. desirous of avoiding a challenge to show every feature. except for the aid she had from her friend Grace Barrow and from Miss Colesworth. 'She'll be seen by Philip like as if she were a nightmare apparition of his undertaker's wraith. If in a world still barbarous we must have soldiers. Lackstraw's model farm Woodside on the hills. she was often summoned to London by her intuition of John's wish to have her presiding at table for the entertainment of his numerous guests. Adister O'Donnell was a nurse in name only. And he seemed to estimate his professional duties apart from an aim at the laurels. surcharged with zeal. and this. to help to save a good sword for the country. The cares of nursing were Jane's almost undividedly. The soldier personally. It smites a deeper nerve. Mrs. She inclined to think more highly of him for having courted exposure on a miserable frontier war where but a poor sheaf of glory could be gathered. She loved . It stood edgeways within. too. Jane Mattock assisting Mrs. A conception of the possibility of a man's being both a soldier and morally a hero edged its way into her understanding. even prayerful. but stretched upon the debateable couch of sickness we are not so touching as the coloured coat: it has the distinction belonging to colour. or more than one. and supervision can be done at a distance if the subordinate is properly attentive to the rules we lay down. like a person shut off on a sudden from her former theories and feelings. Mrs. If we are under sentence of death we are all of us pathetic of course. and at first induced her aunt to join her in the daily walk of half a mile to sit with him. She regarded him and his trappings as an ensign of our old barbarism.' Captain Con said to Jane. where there is no imaginary subjection to the charms of military glory. not a member of our broader world. after he had taken lodgings at a farmhouse near Mrs. Lackstraw was a very busy lady at her farm. here was one whom it would be grievous to lose. some such impression of her frigid mournfulness might have struck a recumbent invalid. Without dismissing any of these views she found them put aside for the reception of others of an opposite character. So Jane was left to him. Adister O'Donnell to restore Captain Philip was very singularly affected. 'Barring the dress. and in her soul she would have ascribed it to her cares of nursing that she had become thoughtful. and there was a moving story of how he had fallen.CHAPTER XVIII CAPTAIN CON'S LETTER Women may be able to tell you why the nursing of a military invalid awakens tenderer anxieties in their bosoms than those called forth by the drab civilian. and could peruse platitudes upon that theme with enthusiasm. she was accustomed to consider an inferior intelligence: a sort of schoolboy when young. doubtful. she confessed that she supervised the art of nursing better than she practised it. as Jane appeared to be. in minds to which the game of war is lurid as the plumes of the arch-slayer. when recommending his cousin to her charitable nature. Jane acknowledged it.' as he added. He had fallen for the country. Theoretically she despised the soldier's work as much as she shrank abhorrently from bloodshed. hopeful.

the suspicion of danger dispersed. to bid her be on her guard. and beg the good gentleman your brother to give me a diploma as nurse to your firstborn. refused to be raised before the mind. Springtide in the country set her singing. according to report. and wish you happy.' They agreed as to his unlikeness to fluid Patrick. humaneness. who could be playful in privacy with friends. the fact that she was an admirable nurse and liked to exercise her natural gift. if you don't come home soon. I know you 'll bring home a foreign Princess to brea k the heart of your faithful. Mrs. The picture of Jane bestowing her hand on a Roman Catholic in military uniform. Therefore if Captain Philip was unlike him. You've put seas between us. clapped a brogue on her tongue to discourse of Patrick and apostrophise him: 'Oh! Pat. no hint of wild winds and heavy seas. Who would have thought!--is the cry when the strongest bulwark of the fence is broken through. There now!' She finished smiling brightly. Grace Barrow noticed certain little changes of mood in Jane she could scarcely have had a distinct suspicion at the time. the most vigilant and plain-spoken of her sex. both eulogistic of the absent brother. I should not like to offend him. Lackstraw had been apprehensive about her fancy for Patrick. and of how unlike Patrick he was. a soldier and Papist could never be thought perilous to a young woman scorning the sons of Mars and slaves of sacerdotalism. The nursing of a man of Letters. There was nothing to trouble it. and strictly a Catholic. Charitableness. by rendering it attractive. After a recent observation of him. Mrs. . perfectly accounted for Jane's trips to Lappett's farm. and are behaving to me as an enemy. 'He has an interesting head . A suggestion of possible danger might prove more dangerous than silence. and the jellies and fresh dairy dainties and neat little dishes she was constantly despatching to the place. and alert there. But I'll always praise you for a dear boy. whom she was bound to serve in return for Patrick's many services to her. only you don't rattle the eighteenth letter of the alphabet in the middle of .the country. Jane least of any would have thought what was coming to pass. Thus we perceive that wits actively awake inside the ring-fence of prepossessions they have erected may lull themselves with their wakefulness. she pronounced him interesting. Pat. steel her heart against serpent speeches. Lackstraw. her walk to her patient at Lappett's farm and homeward was an aethereal rapture for a heart rocking easy in fulness. would not have been so tolerated. 'You really have caught a twang of it from your friend Captain Con. and Grace was a trifle astonished. or of the neighbour to him. see well to have the woman's precious word No at the sentinel's post. beware of what it is that great heiresses are courted for. Jane talked of poor Captain Philip as Patrick O'Donnell's brother. but hard. for her friend's humour was not as a rule dramatic. so little Irish and winning in his brevity of speech. my dear cousin Pat! why are you so long away from your desponding Jane? I 'll take to poetry and write songs. . her aunt. The pale square-browed young officer. had forborne to utter the usual warnings which were to preserve Miss Mattock for her future Earl or Duke and the reason why she forbore was a double one. did and said nothing to alarm her or strike the smallest light. Besides. Pat. and she was allowed to enjoy the pleasures of the metropolis as frequently as she chose. a beggar in rags. on an evening stroll from Lappett's to Woodside. and Jane. not even the familiar insinuation from the vigilant monitress.

'It 's the style I like best:--no perpetual personal thankings and allusions to the trouble he gives!' Jane exclaimed. he would treat her courteously. dear. Adister had been waiting on him all the while. I doubt if he would have complained if Mrs. But soldiers. or not a soul. She knew a story of him contradicting that. but for the present she was happier in her prospect of nearly a week of loneliness. realising the hospital attendance. especially flowers of the wilds.' said Grace. Jane remembered having once been curious about this adventurous man of Letters who lived by the work of his pen. Miss Colesworth was coming to her next week. The day was one of sunshine. deep ditchbanks unrolled profuse tangles of new blades. He talked well.' though it was not stressed. He has never complained. of all men. The beech twigs were strongly embrowned.' 'Too great a power of self-repression sometimes argues the want of any emotional nature. and I like that in all things. Lackstraw's dread of the arrival of one of the minstrel order: and the girl.' 'I've tried. primroses ran along the banks. and was expending it on travels--rather imprudently. I can imagine him lying on the battle-field night after night quietly. and can't persuade my tongue to do it "first off.words. A red-haired young woman chooses to wait on him and bring him flowers--he's brother to Patrick in his love of wild flowers. just in that military style. one would expect to be overwhelmed by a feeling of weakness. hence Mrs. and her walk across the same tracks early in the morning. It coloured the remainder of an evening walk home through the beechwoods and over the common with Grace. She remembered comparing him to one who was compelled to swim perpetually without a ship to give him rest or land in view. 'One wonders what he thinks of as he lies there by the window. The story had not recurred to her since she had undertaken her service. certainly.' 'Still I think it a horrid profession. and my invalid has no brogue whatever to keep me in practice. not once. she fancied Emma Colesworth to be thinking. resolving not to groan. the larches shot up green spires by the borders of woods and on mounds within. He doesn't confide it to his hospital nurse. who could deliberately cut a bouquet from . 'He shows perfect good sense.' Grace felt obliged to insist on that: and her 'I think. Jane had a maxim that flowers should be spared to live their life. and sharp eyes might light on a late white violet overlooked by the children.' 'Yes. These officers bear illness well. odorous: one of the rare placid days of April when the pettish month assumes a matronly air of summer and wears it till the end of the day.' said Grace. as you know. I suppose it 's the drill. she had reared herself on our poets." as boys say. windless. with her brother if he had arrived in England. after Grace had gone to London. 'I think too much honour is paid to it. He had made a little money by a book.' Jane replied. tickled Jane's dormant ear to some drowsy wakefulness. Jane shook her head. at all events!--and he takes it naturally and simply.

leads to finer civilisation. now he could feel he was embarked for recovery: and he told her how the farmer and one of his men had lent a shoulder to present him to his old and surest physician-rather like a crippled ghost. He whistled to Jane's dog Wayland. They were fixed on her in his manner of gazing with strong directness. and some hieroglyphic matter besides. sufficiently shaded. M. and it seemed to her no violation of her sentiment to gather handfuls making a bunch that would have done honour to the procession of the children's May-day--a day she excused for the slaughter because her idol and prophet among the poets. caused her to interrogate his eyes. but to windward of the cooking-reek. 'Out? I feared it would be a week. of smithy redness and ruggedness. brooded so softly! Such natures. was attending her. well-known to her by this time. felt so shrinkingly. But now they cried out to her to be plucked in hosts. Adister was upstairs in bed with one of her headaches. then. that the look would give him a spring to health. and alone.' she said. A slight hardening of Philip's brows. in the painful effort to reconcile apparent antagonism and read themselves. and had the sweet surprise of seeing her patient lying under swallows' eaves on a chair her brother had been commissioned to send from London for coming uses. He was near the farm-wife's kitchen. was that day on the side of the children. He answered with the half-smile that refers these questions to the settled fact. How like a bath of freshness would the thick faintly-fragrant mass shine to her patient! Only to look at it was medicine! She believed. a retriever. 'I have a great liking for him. Jane supposed: She spoke of him as the most devoted of husbands. they claimed the sacrifice. pleasantly warmed. quick in sensibility. and she hurried forward to have them in water-the next sacred obligation to the leaving of them untouched. wild nature's interpreter. yet idealistic. She read the contrary opinion. Blunt of speech. Lappett her primroses. they mean nothing. would refuse to pluck a wildflower. imaginative. toning down her delight. and was often a problem to the chief person interested in it.the garden. if requested. and as her very delicate feelings were not always tyrants over her clear and accurate judgement. She had reared herself on our poets. He would be one of the first to . with open letter on the rug covering his legs. it was the whistle that startled her to turn and see him as she was in the act of handing Mrs. Passing through the garden-gate of Lappett's farm she made her way to the south-western face of the house to beg a bowl of water of the farmer's wife. 'We all respect him for his single-hearted care of her. Air had always brought him round. She thought so decisively. having Newfoundland relationships. after our manner of developing. spoke so flatly. they rather tended to stamp her character than lead her into foolishness. that also. Longer than others are they young: but meanwhile they are of an age when we are driven abroad to seek and shape our destinies. forget that they are not full grown. His tirades about the Saxon tyrant are not worth mentioning. in her lively healthfulness. If much brooding on them will sometimes create a sentimentalism of the sentiment they inspire. she had the complex character of diverse brain and nerve. Is it quite prudent?' Jane said. Captain Con.

. She thought it a sign of his friendliness in sharing family secrets with her. His dryness in hitting the laughable point diverted her. She hears this morning I 'm off on a hasty visit to Ireland. and yours the blame. and her mind became suffused with a series of pictures of the chameleon captain . Seeing his fingers grope on the rug. my boy! I know what I am about when I set my mind on a powerful example. I know he would. . we get our character from the objects we contemplate . 'Yes. on my way. 'I am to read it through?' she said. I am sure. My election to the vacancy must be reckoned beforehand. As the chameleon gets his colour. and asked her to read it. They had it from the clouds yesterday. Do they not seem a bath of country happiness!' Evidently they did their service in pleasing him. He is truly chivalrous. she handed him his open letters. and pretty Kitty before I cross. and one of millions. They will not say of me after that (and read only the speeches reported in the local paper) "what is the man but an Irish adventurer!" He is a lover of his country. Now the die is cast.' Philip's broad look at her had not swerved.rush to the standard if there were danger. And that stigmatic title of long standing. after a run over some lines. The bowl of primroses placed beside him on a chair by the farmer's dame diverted it for a moment. and read: 'MY DEAR PHILIP. He nodded. But we are past sighing. wondering a little that it should be in Captain Con's handwriting.' Jane glanced over the edge of the letter sheet rosily at Philip. I promise you a sounding report from the Kincora Herald. But if I am in the nature of things unable to command the waves. drove him to the step-to the ruin of his domestic felicity perhaps. Jane drank his look at the flowers. and they are tolerably alike. though I will be the last to fling it at you. passing under his inspection. nor his wife. 'We can none of us live for ever. trust me for holding a mob in leash. Caius Julius Caesar sighed? 'No. by the proper person. and fresh water every day will keep them alive a good long time. 'You gathered them?' he said. as I have been preparing her of late to expect I must. if any. She took the letter. He selected the second. when he crossed the tide.' she replied. My spirits are up. Judging by the wind this morning. Philip O'Donnell. more than anything earthly.--Not a word of these contents. we will hope. nor thought of his life. I meet Father B. Laugh. 'Think you. the passage will furnish good schooling for a spell of the hustings. which will be delivered seasonably to the lady chiefly concerned. but of the thing to be done.

I suppose?' Philip signified that it was too late. and I am bound to confess I have no positive disrelish of his compliments. CHAPTER XIX MARS CONVALESCENT Jane's face was clear as the sky when she handed the letter back to Philip. which is my love of the land of my birth. that it would be advisable to leave the unfolding of the present secret to the captain. Have I not often informed her myself that a flower from her hand means more than treasures from the hands of others. on the highway. A wife must come second to that if she would be first in her husband's consideration. Jane wondered why the letter had been shown. She was guessing at his reasons for showing her the letter. 'Yes. The harangues will not be closely reported. Nothing would stop him. 'An election to Parliament! Perhaps Mrs. aware of when it is best to be out of the way. you say. Appreciate her. Her patient might be . and stated it in his briefest. and you are not the only soldier who is a strategist. 'You read to the end?' said Philip. Captain Con always amuses me. to soften the shock I fear it may be: but we must wait till her headache has passed. though seeming to go at a funeral pace to certain ceremonies leading to the union of the two countries in the solidest fashion. She is one whom not to love is to be guilty of an offence deserving capital punishment. or cherish him beaten--which is not in the prospect. Hurrah me on. to their mutual benefit. Adister should have a hint of it. when certain things are done.planted in view of the Roman to become a copy of him. after a shining example. He was moreover of opinion. Let Ireland be true to Ireland. like the airy bird to his home in the corn. and a bastinado to season the culprit for his execution. and let me fancy I hear you shouting it. next to the wife of my bosom the best of women. it struck her that the prolonged directness of his look was peculiar: she attributed it to some effect of the fresh Spring atmosphere on a weakened frame. and they appeared possibly serious. Now adieu and pax vobiscum. or perish in my esteem. Reap the rich harvest of your fall to earth. sir. In doing so. and a tactician too. You are for that. Con sleeps with a corner of the eye open. Philip.' The drop of the letter to the signature fluttered affectionately on a number of cordial adjectives. and you are where I leave you. The secret of his happiness is in extreme jeopardy. Expect me absent for a week. now it is action. We will talk of the consolidation of the Union by and by. But this may prove a desperate step.' she said. I leave you in the charge of the kindest of nurses. I stand by the truth. so that she did not peruse the terminating lines with her wakefullest attention: 'The liege lady of my heart will be the earliest to hail her hero triumphant.

'That is a danger.' 'We think her a good-looking girl. I think it. then. at the usual hours of the day.' 'I hope she will be pleased with England. and yet I hope you will not allow her to put me aside altogether?' 'You shall do as you wish.annoyed and needing sympathy? 'After all.' she said. But he calls himself our friend. She went through the same forms each day. of good Irish training.' said she. and I see the many faults we have. Like Patrick in face. I am unmitigatedly for the one country--no divisions. Oh! surely it is her aim.' said Philip. I know.' 'For you he has a real love.' 'Yes. 'Is she like Patrick? Her name is Kathleen. 'Well. and he is a chameleon. and he let fall a breath. though she would have felt the apathetic doltishness of the woman less. I mean. he may be trusted not to wound us.' Her patient's eyelids were down. whose lumbering assiduities he fenced with reiterated humourous negatives to every one of her propositions. 'My brother says he is a serviceable director of the Company they are associated in.' 'Parliament may steady him. On her return from the poor lady racked with headache and lying little conscious of her husband's powder-barrel under the bed. Adister. 'Your sister will be with you soon.' said Philip.' 'It is too much of a platform for Con's head. We want all our strength in these days of monstrous armies directed by banditti Councils. until she prefaced the last two or three of the list with a 'Deary me!' addressed consolatorily to herself. England is the nation of the Christian example to nations. Jane found her patient being worried by his official nurse. She proposed to send her name up to Mrs. 'Captain Con may turn out to be a very good sort of member of Parliament in his way.' she said. there is more of poet than politician. a bundle of a woman.' 'He finds himself among reasonable men. a farm-labourer's wife. eloquent of his thoughts. he may listen to us at times. 'I am glad. but Irish.' . and Jane.' 'She is a raw Irish girl. I think he really has a liking for John and me. felt how hard it must be for him to bear.' Philip's eyebrows lifted. At least she strives to be that.

His hand moved.' A silence of long duration fell between them. It sailed by. She accused her silly visions of having softened her. and of Patrick and where he might be now. her strange impressions and her way of proclaiming them. ultimately of Captain Con and Mrs. The arrival of her diurnal basket of provisions offered a refreshing intervention of the commonplace. and that he did not speak of his family's exclamations on the subject because of Kathleen's being so good-looking a girl. that she might consult with Mrs. He knows that he married a fortune. a sister must resemble these handsome features here. and here is he deceiving her. Jane imagined a possibly greater likeness to her patient. and she thought him asleep. and when she ventured to look at him again there was no sign of fresh drops falling. For if good-looking. Jane was hungry too. 'She will have the right to tell him so. Still he was bound to consult his wife previous to stepping before the public. they were unseen. lying--there is no other word: and one lie leads to another. She had sight of a tear that grew big under the lashes of each of his eyelids. So might he lie on the battle-field.' 'She will delight my brother. desiring to conjure it to stay and shadow him. He asked her if she was going. When he married a fortune he was a successful adventurer. John loves Irish ballads. 'She is an excellent woman. talking of Kathleen on her journey.' she said. April's. His duty as a man of honour is to be true to his bond and serve the lady. Lappett about putting up some tentcover. a model of uprightness. Meditating on her unanswered question of Miss Kathleen's likeness to Patrick. Bright air had sharpened his appetite: he said he had been sure it would. His eyelids were shut. The compact was understood. and gently rose to slip away. Her own eyes overflowed. A hasty smoothing to right and left removed the traces. quiescent to inspection in their marble outlines as a corse. His eyelids kept shut. sitting close beside him to shield his head from the sunbeams.' 'A good fortune. with no one to watch over him! While she watched. she has done him all the good in the world. Falseness to his position won't wash him clean of the .' said Jane.'Does she play? sing?' 'Some of our ballads. She looked at a white fleece that came across the sun. and rolled heavily. and they feasted together gaily. but stopped. She raised her parasol. 'Not home. It seemed to have meant to detain her.' Philip said sternly. a log. Philip acquiesced. The fit of weeping was momentary. and anticipated cheating the doctor of a part of the sentence which condemned him to lie on his back up to the middle of June. 'He has broken faith with her. She fancied he would like to sleep. a novelty with her. Adister. He never can be anything but a comic politician. her heart began to throb before she well knew the secret of it.

assumes the consent of the heavenliest wife in Christendom. 'I forgot to mention that Mrs. 'No.' 'I wish indeed he had been more candid. and not having an instant to debate on it.' 'Surely you are not for disunion?' 'The reverse.' said Jane. 'We are not certain that Mrs. The effort wearied him.' Jane pleaded for Captain Con. you would consider me guilty of greater than any poor Con is likely to commit.' Had this been the burden of his thoughts when those two solitary tears forced their passage? Hardly: not even in his physical weakness would he consent to weep for such a cause. Antics are harmless. 'You may restrain him from excesses.' said Philip. that makes it worse.' Philip delivered the speech with a partial imitation of Captain Con addressing his wife on his return as the elected among the pure Irish party. though they get us laughed at. She supposed he was regretting his cousin's public prominence in the ranks of the malcontents.' she said. .' said she. Adister will object. do not think Mrs. 'A bad mentor for him.' she said. Adister will ever allow you to feel the lightest shadow . Philip answered: 'He is punctilious.' . 'Do you see her reading a speech of her husband's?' he remarked. that will hold it fast. while she smiled at his unwonted display of mimicry. Adister has a letter from her husband telling her he has been called over to Ireland on urgent business. Presently with something like a moan: 'And I am her guest!' 'Oh! pray.' Jane assented to the sarcasm.' 'Were I in that position. I am for union on juster terms. 'He will listen to you. 'In Ireland he is agreeably surprised by the flattering proposal of a vacant seat.title. .' 'You have read his letter. He crushed her charitable apologies with references to the letter.' Philip replied. 'He is chivalrously attentive to her.

'Would not Patrick's counsels have an influence?' 'Hitherto our Patrick has never presumed to counsel his elder brother.' 'With so little of the Jesuit in him!' 'Little of the worst: a good deal of the best. She was directed by his words to think of the scarlet coat. 'I reflect a little on the substance of things as well.' 'What is the best?' 'Their training to study. True.' 'But an officer wearing . Not the Jesuits would have a chance of keeping a grasp on Patrick! He'll always be a natural boy and a thoughtful man. .' 'The uniform! That would have to be stripped off. And they train you to accept service: they fit you for absolute service: they shape you for your duties in the world. verily! And his utterances had a shocking emphasis. her first impression of him! She could not quit the theme: doing that would have been to be indifferent: something urged her to it. which were hardly less than the affrighting ones blown across the Irish sea by that fierce party. He stated the terms.'But what are the terms?' He must have desired to paint himself as black to her as possible.' 'You would not regret it?' . 'Are they really your opinions?' He seemed relieved by declaring that they were. They train you to concentrate the brain upon the object of study. and so long as they don't smelt a man's private conscience. Rockney denounce for disloyal insolence: he could find excuses for them and their dupes-poor creatures. 'I shake a scarlet cloak to you?' said Philip. He was at a Jesuit college in France when he was wax. he spoke of the granting them as a sure method to rally all Ireland to an ardent love of the British flag. Now he's taking the world. He held them to be just. But he praised names of Irish leaders whom she had heard Mr. 'Patrick is quite free of them. 'We will hope that the Irish fever will spare Patrick. There'd be an end to any professional career.' said she.' Jane's features implied a gentle shudder. simply sensible terms. they are model masters. .' she said. Happily Patrick has held his own. Then she was not wrong in her idea of the conspirator's head.

And it was instantly: 'Not in arms. as incapable of conceiving as of bestowing pleasure: a bald cry for pennies through the barest pretence to be agreeable but Jane found it hard to be tolerant of them out of London. 'Very well. 'Can you endure the noise?' she asked him. If the country favours me with active service I'm satisfied for myself. threw a smoke over the country sky." But I used to like it once. 'Con would say it shrieks "murder. his kepi was blue. Captain Philip's tone was too plain and positive: he would be a most practical unhistrionic rebel. responsive to a livelier measure. always considerate for children. Jane observed him listening. where a danceless quadrille-tune succeeds a suicidal Operatic melody and is followed by the weariful hymn. miss. befouled the pure air she loved. and by degrees she distinguished a maundering of the Italian song she had one day sung to Patrick in his brother's presence. You asked me for my opinions: I was bound to give them. Philip assured her he was not annoyed. his tailor had rigged him as a military gentleman.' He tried an explanation by likening the dissension to a wrangle in a civilised family over an unjust division of property.' Could she have had the temerity? Jane marvelled at herself. and many of them. It yelled of London to Jane.' said Philip. whose last drawl pert polka kicks aside. Jane called to the farm-wife. And here.' Mrs. Adister must be dismissed. She doubted that the weighty pair of tears had dropped for the country. Wayland was growling. and this one affecting her invalid and Mrs.' said Jane. 'You would countenance a revolt?' she said. Thus does the poor Savoyard compel a rich people to pay for their wealth. 'I remember your singing that the week before I went to India. striking at that extreme to elicit the favourable answer her tones angled for. The instrument was one of the number which are packed to suit all English tastes and may be taken for a rough sample of the jumble of them. A jerky monkey was attached to the organ. Not without pathos in the abstract perhaps do the wretched machines pursue their revolutions of their factory life. we think it so cheerful!' cried Mrs. Lappett. as he was marking the case with some nicety and difficulty. Her children were seen up the garden setting to one another with squared aprons. 'Bless me. and glanced at her young ones harmonious and out of mischief. an itinerant barrel-organ crashed its tragic tale of music put to torture at the gate. Generally I let them rest. She had . Happily politics and I have no business together.'No sorrow is like a soldier's bidding farewell to flag and comrades. throttled the spirits of the woods. He spied an objectionable animal. Lappett came answering to the call. he had to be held by the collar. and his coat was red. Captain Con would have shed them over Erin. and her scarlet blush flooded her face.

'Con would have argued him out of hearing before he ground a second note. and they beheld a flashing of white teeth and heard Italian accents. I hope. He looked up and breathed his heaven of fresh air. 'Hunting. was it not?' said Jane. he must rest his back and not use his legs for months. 'I have no idea when Con returns from his unexpected visit to Ireland.' 'I think Mr. 'I wonder when I shall see Patrick!' he said. The monkey saluted militarily. 'Anything you command. quickened in spite of himself by the sham sounds of music to desire changes and surprises. that thing on their backs. Jane was wondering whether he could be a man still to brood tearfully over his old love. Soldiers are desperate creatures. The leaps of the children were dashed.forgotten the racked Mrs. Adister with features which were the acutest critical summary of the discord caused toll to be paid instantly.' . The similarity to the regimental band heading soldiers on the march from Church might have struck Philip. A sallow two or three minutes composed their motions.' 'Within a fortnight. 'not on these hills!--and it must be a trial for the wretched men to climb them.' 'Let me believe it! You have heard from him? But you are in the air! exposed! My head makes me stupid.' Mrs. My brother Edward had one like it in his youth. The farmer. home for tea.' The appearance of Mrs. She echoed him. 'And I! Soon. Adister. Adister said. and then they jumped again to the step for lively legs. my dear. Jane pitied. but with painful suggestions of his foregone drilling in the ceremony. Adister had his fall when hunting.' said Philip. she could not interpose to thwart his act of resignation.' said Philip. while Mrs. and I would not incur his blame. and a footman. It is now five o'clock. The air begins to chill. crutched. He was near to being a permanent cripple from that fall. Now the hymn of Puritanical gloom-the peacemaker with Providence performing devotional exercises in black bile. Con will never forgive me if you catch a cold. took him between them. madam.' The eyes of Jane and Philip shot an exchange.' 'They are as accustomed to it as mountain smugglers bearing packs of contraband.' she resumed. madam. 'We are safe nowhere from these intrusions. Adister said to Jane: 'The doctor's orders are positive:--if he is to be a man once more.

. What. and even while she saw it accurately. if those tears came of the repressed desire to thank her with some little warmth? He was honour's own. . he wrote: 'I leave you to . She had a dim remembrance of words ensuing: 'ceremonies going at a funeral pace .That was rather different from a fall on duty before the enemy. Adister pressed her to have at her heels? That he was! Captain Con's behaviour grieved her. Those words: 'The consolidation of the Union:' sprang up. he felt. . the moment of keen perception was overclouded by her innate distrust of her claim to feminine charms. on the highway to the solidest kind of union:'--Yes. . and could not. perhaps that he had never thanked her.' And Captain Philip showed her the letter: She perceived motives beginning to stir. Thrilling to kindness. Was not her old Wayland as good a protector as the footman Mrs. Jane took her leave of Philip beside his couch of imprisonment in his room. Walking homeward she likewise gave Wayland a hug.' and questioned him of his fondness for her. . incurred by severe exhaustion after sunstroke! . they find their level. If he cared for her so much. poor soul! helpless to escape it. As soon as she had asked herself the nature of the design of so honourable a man as Captain Philip in showing her his cousin's letter. and warmhearted Patrick talked of him as a friend whose heart was. He embraced her old dog Wayland tenderly. She called him 'dear old fellow. Hard men have sometimes a warm affection for dogs. For why should he wish her to understand that he was no fortune-hunter and treated heiresses with greater reserve than ordinary women! How could it matter to him? She saw the tears roll. warning him not to be faithless ever to the mistress who loved him. He lay there. weak and tongue-tied: hence those two bright volumes of his condition of weakness. and. . By these lights of his character she read the act. . who see what there is to be seen about them and know what may be known instead of decorously waiting for the astonishment of revelations. waving the reply as a torch. .--What was she doing when they fell? She was shading his head from the sun. He must have had his intention: and now as to his character!--Jane was of the order of young women possessing active minds instead of figured paste-board fronts. The tears of such a man have more of blood than of water in them. and the question of his character confirmed it. He was not vain to the degree which stupefies the sense of there being weight or wisdom in others. But could he be imagined seeking to put her on her guard? There may be modesty in men well aware of their personal attractions: they can credit individual women with powers of resistance. his friend's. why had he not placed confidence in her and commissioned her to speak of his election to his wife? Irishmen will never be quite sincere!--But why had his cousin exposed him to one whom he greatly esteemed? However angry he might be with Con O'Donnell in his disapproval of the captain's conduct. . her blood spun round and round. then. And it certainly revived an ancient accusation against his countrymen. His intention was . it was not very considerate to show the poor man to her in his natural colours. promising to return in the early morning. And he was honour's own. Tears of men sink plummet-deep.

Could it be possible that human persons were subject to the spells of persons with tastes. To me it is wine! The drinking of the pure well-water as wine is among the fatal signs of fire in the cup. aims. Her lust of freedom gave her the towering holiday. Who was he? Not discoverable. pursuits alien to theirs? It was a riddle taxing her to solve it for the resistance to a monstrous iniquity of injustice. happier than poor Grace Barrow's. because disguise of them is needed by the bashful spirit which accuses itself of audaciousness in presuming to speculate. where even a thought of a presence was thrust away as a desecration and images of souls in thought were shadowy.' not one had moved her to regret the refusal. perfect in loneliness. and read flatness. She paid for this indulgence of her mood by losing the spirit entirely. Had she asked herself the reason of her extended speculation. and could only give her hand to a man able to direct and help her. The battle was won without a blow. She took the delirium in her own pure fashion. thought Jane.' She did not reflect that the strong glow of poetic imagination is wanted to hallow a passionate devotion to the inanimate for this evokes the spiritual. Whose was it? She had a vision of the gulfs of bondage. She attacked it in the abstract. and passionateness of any kind in narrower brains should be a proclamation to us of sanguine freshets not coming from a spiritual source. but of a milder sort and partially transparent at one or two of the gates she had touched. And it was no unreal love. she sent her voice through the woods and took the splendid ring of it for an assurance of her peculiarly unshackled state. practices. and she read. she sang. She fancied she had not ever been so wedded to Nature as on that walk through the bursting beechwoods. that sweet lonely walk. . And Oh! it could not be. she is cut away from Nature: that pure well-water is tasteless to her. in confusion. where facts. dimly recognised for such--as they may be in truth. yet the laden emotions of her nature brought her round by another channel to the stage neighbouring sight. Of the men who had 'done her the honour. her foot would not have stopped more abruptly on the edge of a torrent than she on that strange road of vapours and flying lights. How is it that sensible women can be so susceptible? For. She loved this liberty. an absolutely unflushed freedom. She struck a light to try her poet on the shelf of the elect of earth by her bed. But the heart betraying deluded her. in a love of the bankside flowers and the downy edges of the young beech-buds fresh on the sprays. She did not. not likely to be. showing Nature at work rather to enchain the victim than bid her daughter go. A mind capable of seeing was twisted by a nature that would not allow of open eyes. are accepted under their disguises. though too intent and forcible to win the spirit from the object. degrading her conception of our humanity. as a volunteer champion of our offended race. Rumour spoke of Emma Colesworth having a wing clipped. She lived in the hope of simply doing good. Jane of course meant the poet's 'Nature. At night she was a spent rocket. she can give her heart no longer to the innocent things about her. Therefore she had her freedom. the moment a woman is what is called in love. Her glorious walk through the wood seemed burnt out.So the pursuit of the mystery ended. as it had commenced. Not his the fault! She revered him too deeply to lay it on him. What had gone she could not tell: her very soul she almost feared. one who would bear to be matched with her brother.

an endless mystery. sounded the cloying tune through her frame.Thereupon came glimpses of the gulfs of bondage. She heard crashes of the opera-melody. and alert Would like to feel he was doing a bit of good [The End] . when not fretted by them Loves his poets. they are born with the faith. passed into the vulgar sugariness. tyrannically led a captive. can almost understand what poetry means May lull themselves with their wakefulness Never forget that old Ireland is weeping Not every chapter can be sunshine Not likely to be far behind curates in besieging an heiress Not the great creatures we assume ourselves to be Nursing of a military invalid awakens tenderer anxieties Paying compliments and spoiling a game! Secret of the art was his meaning what he said Suggestion of possible danger might more dangerous than silence Tears of men sink plummet-deep Tears of such a man have more of blood than of water in them They laugh. Beautiful women may believe themselves beloved. until perforce she usurped the note. One thrill of appreciation drew her on the tide. Those voluptuous modulations of melting airs are the natural clothing of beautiful women. but they laugh extinguishingly Time. and once drawn from shore she became submerged. delicious. like the organ-monkey. Why am I not beautiful. lost herself. whose trick is to turn corners of unanticipated sharpness Twisted by a nature that would not allow of open eyes With death. an insatiable thirst for the mystery. foreign. They are privileged to believe. was her thought. appearing interminable. they were chapters of soft romance. And saying to herself: This is what moves them! she was moved. because of a qualm Woman's precious word No at the sentinel's post. roseenfolded. she was led by it. we'd rather not. and despising it even more than the wretched engine of the harshness. ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: A whisper of cajolery in season is often the secret Ah! we're in the enemy's country now Beautiful women may believe themselves beloved Could peruse platitudes upon that theme with enthusiasm Foamy top is offered and gulped as equivalent to an idea Hard men have sometimes a warm affection for dogs He was not alive for his own pleasure Hug the hatred they packed up among their bundles I baint done yet Irishmen will never be quite sincere Loudness of the interrogation precluded thought of an answer Love the children of Erin.

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