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walking, and the young ducks were gone off this thing for the sake of your
little in search of water to have a swim. Nothing May ?” sad did Bid tell to May, but every tale had Miss Martha jerked a tear or two out of life in it, and a sparkle of fun and joy. her eye. She was impatient with herself
The next evening Miss Martha found for not feeling sterner.
how am I to take possession of an able“You see I have got well, Aunty," said bodied young man ? Am I to ride to the girl. “We have a great deal to do, and Camlough and carry him off in my pocket ?” I can't afford to be sick."
May had no longer any smiles for her “Thank God you are better, my darling; aunt's fidgety little speeches. Her eyes but what have we got to do ?”
gazed strangely out of the window, with “In the first place there are all these that fixed bleak look which they had taken people who are to be driven out of their when Paul was expected and did not come, homes. We must try and do something like eyes that had given up seeking for the for them. There will be sick people thing that could give them joy. amongst them.”
“I do not know how that will be," she Miss Martha looked grave. “I am ready said ; "I do not know yet." to do what I can,” she said. “I cannot do She closed her eyes, and Miss Martha
thought she slept; but she was pondering “ Bid has gone to the mountain," said all the time over that difficult problemMay, " to see how things are going: She how could Paul be carried out of the will be back here in the morning with the country and saved ? She had no doubt news. And, Aunty, there is another thing at all that his present state was directly -you and I have got to save Paul Finis- owing to the influence of the curse. ton.”
Anxiety must have caused that sudden “Now, my love, forgive me, but I will and mysterious illness which had left his not hear a word about that graceless young mind a wreck. She thought of him happy
A person who behaves as he has and light-hearted as she had first seen him, done is never worth a thought. When Had he stayed in that foreign country to your health is a little stronger, my darling, which an honest impulse had driven him, you will regain a proper spirit. Till then he wonld not now stand blighted in his have patience, and do not mention the prime. It was she who had brought him man's name.”
into danger, she who had kept him under May's face had become as white as the the cloud, and now she must send him mountain snow. She caught the arms of away from her, so that his troubles might her chair, and held them tightly. Some come to an end. It was only a poor comminutes passed before she spoke again. fort for her to know that he had already
“Aunt Martha,” she then said, “you forgotten her, so that it would cost him no have not understood me. I will explain pang if he were never to see her again. myself better, and you will not refuse to Of her own future she did not dare to listen to me. Paul Finiston has lost his think. mind, and he is in the power of an enemy. Miss Martha's thoughts on the subject I feel that he will never recover, never be were very different. The old lady did not the man God intended him to be, while he quite believe in the story of Paul's loss of is here in this country, under the shadow memory, and suspected that Katherine of the curse which he has so feared. If he had bewitched him, and that he had chosen were away in son bright new country the to stay at Camlough. She had not, howtrouble would leave him, and he might ever, the heart to thrust such opinion upon there live his life as he ought to live it. May. If the child believed him mad, why Don't believe I wish for him here that I let her believe so. may hear his voice and see his face, for I Meanwhile Bid had arrived at home on am a truer woman than you think me. the eve of a day of affliction. People were What I ask is this—do you take Paul to passing from one cabin to another, saying France, or to Italy if you like better, and sad farewells, and mourning together over place him with good people, and leave him the woe that was come among them. The there to God. I will manage here during Kearneys were carrying their small possesyour absence, and will be happy, feeling sions into a cave under a cliff, where they we have tried to save him. Now you intended to live till they could sell their know what I mean, Aunty. Will you do pig and their little bits of furniture. With the few pounds that such sale would bring visiting each other, all the short summer they must start by-and-bye, a sad and night, sitting round the fires for the few timid band of wanderers, to seek their dark chill hours talking over their past, or fortunes or misfortunes in some unknown trying to predict the future. Con sat by and dreaded town. Some others were the fire in the Kearneys' cabin, his face dark doing likewise, thanking God as they with gloom, his hands clasping his knees worked, that things were not worse with under his chin, his eyes roving from the them.
red hearth to Nan, and from Nan back to “ Sure it's the summer sky we have over the hearth. The girl was busy meanwhile our heads," said one. “ If a body must making jackets for the little brothers, and sleep on the grass, it's good to have it cloaks for the small half-naked sisters ont dhry.”
of every rag of stuff she could find, in"You say well,” said another; “We're cluding the bed-clothes.
The little ones betther off nor the old people-heavens be sat round her, awed into unusual hush, their bed! What debate could me an' the and watching every stitch with the eyes of baby make if the snow was blindin' our frightened rabbits. eyes and freezin' our hearts.”
“God help ye!” said a visiting neigh"The Lord wouldn't let that happen bour, “but ye're the long wake family!" twicet,” said a third.
Nan threw her head back, and stifled a But there were others who could not groan. make an effort to be cheerful; the people “Misther Paul! Misther Panl !" she who had their sick and their dying to pro- said, "thin why did you desave us?” vide for. What could Tim's old father, and “ Arrah whisht !" said the neighbour; little Bride's crippled grandmother do but could he carcumvint the devil ?” die on the side of the hill? There was “Mick! the daylight's comin'. Will you patient Norah in the last stage of con- run an' thry if you see a sight o' Bid ?" sumption, and there was a mother of The neighbour went out sighing. many children who had been bedridden Well, well, well! but the obstinate
The children clung to their hope is in that girl !” mother, who could not move, and moaned “She ought to ha' come back," said over the horror which the morrow was to Nan; "she onght to ha' come back.” bring to them; and the woman with the sick Here Bid and the house-mother entered daughter sat with her arms round her dying the cabin together. The old woman had child, and prayed with frantic earnestness been detained, condoling and helping in that God would take her home before the
way. cruel hour should come. Sympathising suf
“Well !" cried Nan, springing to her ferers passed in and out of the cabins, and feet, and dropping her work. wept a little with one, and wept a little “The curse is down on Paul,” said Bid, with another ; while each would rebuke her solemnly; "ye bave ne'er a wan to look to neighbour for the despair which she felt but the Lord!" herself.
Nan crouched on the floor and buried Bundles were packed, and Sunday clothes her face in her gown. put on. In most cases where there was a “Get up girl, get up! There's worse strong healthy father or brother, he had off nor you. Ye've all got yer feet undher gone away already to look for work in the ye, an'
veins." nearest town, or in some other part of the “Young enough!" wailed Nan, as a todcountry. Those who were to begin their dling child tumbled into her lap. journey to-morrow, were all the weak, if “Ye'll make yer mother break down," not the helpless. People were dressed said Bid; “I looked for betther things from already for their travel, for there was no ye. Ye haven't the sick an' dyin' to take thought of sleeping on that last ever-to-be- on yer shouldhers. Get up now an' be a remembered night before they left the woman, Nan Kearney. An' I'll show ye homes that had sheltered them, never to Katty Daly, that can't stir, an' her seren see them more. They kept walking about, little girsheens all cryin' round her bed."
END OF THE SEVENTII VOLUME.
The hight of Translating Articles from ALL THE YEAR Round is reserred by the Authors.
Published at the Oce, 28, Wollington St., Strand, Printed by O. WHITING, Beaufort Wondo, Duke St, Lincoln't im Motta
bird, and he earnestly prayed that she as remained, and his whiskers, were streaked might be happy in it.
The lines round his eyes And she was happy; so happy that she and mouth were somewhat deeply graven, sometimes felt her happiness was too and the brow was heavy and thoughtful, great to be lasting, and that some re- but his bright blue eyes were full of life verse of fortune must be in store for he and merriment, the tones of his voice were But these flights of depression only hap- blithe and musical, his slight wiry figure, pened when John was away on his busi- though a very little bowed and stooping, ness tours, and then only during the first was as iron in its hardness, and when away half of his absence, for during the second from business he was as full of animal she was busy in contemplating his return, spirits and fun as any boy. and in devising all kinds of little expedients “I am all right, my darling," he reto show how welcome he was. See her peated, as, after taking off his hat and coat, now on this bright October evening, so he went with her into the dining-room; neatly and yet so becomingly dressed" though I know it is by no means prudent in her tightly-fitting mouse-coloured vel to stand in draughts, especially for people veteen gown, fastened round the waist by of my age.” a narrow black leather belt and buckle, “Now, John,” cried Alice, with up-lifted with a linen collar round her pretty throat, forefinger, "are you going to begin that and linen cuffs showing off her small white nonsense directly you come into the house ? hands. She had filled every available You know how often I have told you that ornament with the remnants of the summer subject is tabooed, and yet you have scarcely garden produce, the last of the monthly opened your lips before you mention it." roses, and the scarlet geraniums and cal- “Well, my dear,” said John Claxton, ceolarias, and the earliest of the autumnal passing his arm round her and drawing crop of dahlias, china-asters, and chrysan- her closely to him, "you know I have an themums. The air was chill without, age as well as other people, and a good but within the light from the wood logs deal more than a great many, I am sorry flickered brightly on the plate and glass to say; talking of it won't make it any set on the snowy tablecloth, in anticipation worse, you know, Alley, though you may of dinner, and the very odour of the burn. argue that it won't make it any better." ing beech-wood was home-like and comfort- “Silence !” she cried, stopping his ing. After giving a finishing touch to her speech by placing her hand upon his flowers in the drawing-room, and again mouth. “I don't care whether it makes it peeping into the dining-room to see that better or worse, or whether it doesn't make all was right and ready, Alice would open it anything at all; I only know I won't the glazed door and peer out into the dark- have it mentioned here! Your age, indeed! ness, would bend her head in eager listen- What on earth should I do with you if you ing for the sound of wheels entering the were a dandified petit maître in a short carriage-drive. After two or three expe- jacket
, with a little cane, or a great bulkriments her patience was rewarded. First ing yaw-haw fellow in a tawny beard, such she heard the clanging of the closing gate, as one reads of in the novels. then the sound of the rapidly approaching “I have not the least idea, Alley, but I carriage, and the next minute she was in dare say you would manage to spare some her husband's arms.
of your sweet love and kindness for me, if "Now come in, John, at once, out of that I were either of the specimens you
have bitter wind,” she cried, as soon as she was mentioned. As I am neither, perhaps you released, which was not for a minute or will allow me to change my coat and wash two; “it is enough to cut you in two. It my hands before dinner.” has been sighing and moaning round the That
You will find house all day, and I am sure I was thank- everything ready for you, and as you have ful that you were coming home and hadn't had a long journey, and it is the first time to go any sea voyages or other dreadful of your return, I insist on your availing things.”
yourself of the privilege which I gave you “ Thank you, my darling, I am all right, on such occasions, and on your coming I shall do very well now,” said John down in your shooting-coat and slippers, Claxton, in a chirping, cheery voice. and making yourself comfortable, John,
Why had Tom Durham called him old ? dear--and don't be long, for we have your There was a round bald place on the crown favourite dinner.” of his head to be sure, and such of his hair When Mr. Claxton appeared in the dining-room, having changed his coat for a “Oh, it is the wine, I am sure! there is velvet shooting-jacket, and his boots for a no such other wine in the world, unless pair of embroidered slippers, his wife's Mr. Calverley has some himself. There handiwork, having washed his hands and now, talking of Mr. Calverley reminds me brushed up his hair, and given himself that you never have asked about Tomquite a festive appearance, he found the about Tom, John-are you attending to soup already on the table.
what I say?" “You are late, as usual, John,” cried "I beg your pardon, dear," said John Alice, as he seated himself.
Claxton, looking upward with rather a “I went to speak to Bell, dear,” replied flashed face, and emptying his glass at a John Claxton; “but nurse motioned to draught. “I confess my thoughts were me that she was asleep; so I crept up as wandering towards a little matter of busilightly as I could to her little bedside, and ness which had just flashed across me.” bent down and kissed her cheek. She is “You must put aside all business when quite well, I hope, dear, but her face looked you come here; that was a rule which I laid a little flushed and feverish."
down at first, and I insist on its being ad" There is nothing the matter with her, hered to. I was telling you about Tom, dear, beyond a little over-excitement and my brother, you know. " fatigue. She has been with me all day, in “Yes, dear, yes, I know you went to the greatest state of delight at the pro- Southampton to see him off.” spect of your return, helping me to cut “Yes, John; that is to say, I went to and arrange the flowers, to get out the Southampton and I saw him there, but I wine, and go through all the little house- did not actually see him off, that is see him hold duties. I promised her she should sail, you know.” sit up to see her papa, but little fairies of Why, Alice, you went to Southampton three or four years of age have not much for the express purpose !" stamina, and long before the time of your “Yes, John, I know; but you see the return she was dropping with sleep." trains did not suit, and Tom thought I had
“ Poor little pet! Sleep is more bene- better not wait, so I left him just an hour ficial to her than the sight of me would or two before the steamer started.” have been, though I have not forgotten to "I suppose he did go," said John Claxton, bring the doll and the chocolate creams I anxiously; "there is no doubt about that, I promised her. However, the presentation hope ?” of those will do well enough to-morrow.” * Not the least in the world, not the
The dinner was good, cosey, and delight- smallest doubt. To tell you the truth, ful. They did not keep the servant in the John, I was rather anxious about it myself, room to wait upon them, but helped them- knowing that Tom had the two thousand selves and each other. When the cloth pounds which you sent him by me, you was removed, Alice drew her chair close dear, kind, good fellow, and that he isto her husband, and according to regular well, perhaps not quite so reliable as he practice poured out for him his first glass might be-but I looked in the newspaper of wine.
the next day, and saw his name as agent “Your own particular Madeira, John,” to Calverley and Company among the list she said ; “the wine that your old friend of outgoing passengers.” Mr. Calverley sent you when we were first “Did he seem tolerably contented, married. By the way, John, I have often Alice ?" wanted to ask
drink the “Oh, yes, John; he went away in great hotels and the horrible places you go to spirits. I am in hopes that he will settle when you are away—not Madeira, I am down now, and became a steady and recertain.”
spectable member of society. He has plenty “No, dear, not Madeira,” said John of talent, I think, John, don't you ?" Claxton, fondly patting her cheek; “wine, “ Yonr brother has plenty of sharp, beer, grog-different things at different shrewd insight into character, and know
ledge of the Alice,” “Yes, but you never get anything so said Mr. Claxton somewhat bitterly; "these good as this, confess that?"
are not bad as stock-in-trade for a man of “Nothing that I enjoy so much, cer- his nature, and I have no doubt they will tainly; whether it is the wine, or the com- serve his turn. pany in which the wine is drunk, I leave Why, John,” said Alice, with head upyou to guess.”
turned to look at him more closely, “how