LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 66 'THEIR OUTSTRETCHED HANDS WERE CLASPED TOGETHER OVER THE STREAM" ..... HE AIMED A BLOW AT THE BACK OF THE ...... "BUT DO I COMPLAIN?' SAID THE OTHER".. "GOOD-BY, AUNTIE DEAR!" .... "HER SHRIEK OF FEAR WHEN HE HAULED IN FOR HER A GASPING AND FLOPPING GURNARD" ....... HE WALKED INTO THE DINING-ROOM AFTER ..... "SEE WAS SEATED ON THE HEARTH-RUG BE 66 66 FORE THE FIRE, HER HEAD JUST TOUCH- .... ROSS READ THE LETTER THROUGH DELIB- THERE WAS A SLACKENING OF THE LINE, ..... "THESE TWO, THEN, WERE PRACTICALLY 66 SHE DID NOT SPEAK; BUT SHE PLACED HER ......... 66 THEY TURNED AND FOUND BEFORE THEM MR. SYDENHAM HIMSELF, AND ALSO HIS SHANDON BELLS. CHAPTER I. "OVER RUNNING WATER." So still this night was. The white moonlight lay over the sleeping world; the Atlantic was calm; the little harbor town of Inisheen, with all its picturesque squalor of quays and creeks and stranded boats, had gone to rest; and here, high up in this inland glen (from which the sea was visible only as a sharp line of silver at the horizon), among the felled trees and the brush-wood, there was no sound save the continuous "hush -sh-sh" of the streamlet far below in the darkness. Nor was there any sign of life in this open glade—not even a rabbit out browsing on the dew-wet grass, or a curlew crossing the clear depths of the blue-gray sky in its flight from the moor to the shore. Only the moonlight shining calm and still on the wilderness of bramble and bracken and furze, and here and there on the white stump of a felled beech or ash; and always the murmur, down below, of the unseen rivulet on its way to the Blackwater and the sea. But by-and-by, along the road over there, that was barred across by the shadows of some tall elms, two people came slowly walking, and the cheerful sound of their speaking was clear in the stillness. "The more I think of it," said one of them, who was a very pretty, slightly formed young lady, with eyes as black as the sloe, a mouth that could assume a most piquant expression, and a voice that was soft and musical and laughing—“the more I think of it, this seems the most extraordinary escapade I ever entered upon. Altogether a most decorous proceeding! I suppose by this time every soul in Inisheen is fast asleep; and no doubt Miss Romayne is supposed to be asleep too, and dreaming of the Conservatoire and her début at Covent Garden; while as for Master Willie, if he were to be missed, of course they'd imagine he was away after the wild-duck again, · so it would be all right for him. Sure I think," she added, altering her voice slightly, and speaking very shyly-"sure I think 'tis I am the wild-duck that Masther Willie is afther." "Do you know, Kitty," said her companion, who was taller and fairer than she: a young fellow of two-and-twenty, perhaps, with light brown wavy hair, the shrewdest of clear blue eyes, and a well-set, slim figure-"do you know, Kitty, when you speak in our Irish way like that, my heart is just full of love for you." "Oh, indeed!" she said, in a tone of surprise. "Oh, indeed! And at other times what is it full of, then ?” 66 "Well, at other times," he said- at other times, you see— well, at other times, Kitty, do you know, it is just full of love for you. Never mind. When I go to England I'll soon get rid of the Cork accent; and when I come back to you, Kitty—” "Indeed you may save yourself the trouble," she interposed, promptly. "I am not going to have any stranger come back to me. I am going to have nobody but my wild Irish boy, with whatever accent he has, and with all the the cheek he is not likely to get rid of anywhere. There's no other word for it, I declare. Such cheek as never was heard of! Do you know, sir, that I sang at the Crystal Palace with Titiens and Santley ?" 66 You've reminded me of it pretty often, Kitty," was the meek reply. "Yes; and Miss Catherine Romayne, who has sent all Dublin wild with her singing of Irish songs, who could make engagements all over Ireland for the rest of her natural life, comes to Cork—to find herself patronized by the Cork Chronicle! The Cork Chronicle, indeed! And it isn't the editor, mind you, but only the sub-editor-does he sweep out the office too?-that has undertaken to sing the praises of Miss Romayne, and make the whole country understand what a wonder she is! Dear me, what beautiful language! It has been reserved for an English singer to reveal to the Irish people the pathos of' The Bells of Shandon.' Truly! What did they think the song was, then? Did they think it was comic? Then came the usual thing-I foresaw it from the beautiful writing in the Cork Chronicle-bouquets; complimentary notes; finally an introduction; and, behold! the sub-editor of the Chronicle isn't in the least a pale youth with long hair and inky fingers, but rather half a young gamekeeper and half a young squireen, and the remainder a fair-haired Apollo Belvedere with a delightful accent and the most ingenuous blush. And oh, such innocence! and oh, such modesty! Modesty! May he be permitted to call?' And the very next day, as Miss Romayne and her faithful guardian are seated at their mid-day meal, there's a knock at the door, and enter Mr. Modesty! Bless the man, I said to myself, doesn't he know what's what, but he must pay an afternoon call at two o'clock in the day? Anybody in his senses would have backed out; but you weren't the least in your senses-confess it now, Willie-" 66 Were you ?-when you found your pretty black hair was all about your shoulders, and bottled stout on the table? And 'would Mr. Fitzgerald sit down and have some lunch?' and 'would Mr. Fitzgerald prefer a glass of sherry?' At all events, you were civil-mannered then, Kitty." This was carrying the war into the enemy's country; but she paid no heed. "I think you grew more happy, Willie, when I went to the piano, and so got my back turned on you, and when Miss Patience took her newspaper to the window; at least you grew more audacious in your flattery-there was something about Tara's harp being awakened again—and then-there was a moment-after that 'Bells of Shandon' that you would have-I think there was a moment when I chanced to turn, and I fancied young Mr. Gamekeeper's clear blue eyes weren't quite so clear as usual-can you tell me?" "It seems a long time ago," he said, absently, "though it isn't. Can you tell me, Kitty, why it is that Miss Patience, who was so friendly with me at first, took it into her head to quarrel with me?" "Why, you quarrelled with her!" "Nonsense; I did nothing of the sort," he said, with a laugh. |