Lord Kilgobbin

‘Out of pique?’

‘I repeat it. It was a pure case of temper. I would not ask her to sing. I even found fault with the way she gave the rebel ballad. I told her there was an old lady – Americanly speaking – at the corner of College Green, who enunciated the words better, and then I sat down to whist, and would not even vouchsafe a glance in return for those looks of alternate rage or languishment she threw across the table. She was frantic. I saw it. There was nothing she wouldn’t have done. I vow she’d have married even you at that moment. And with all that, she’d not have done it if she’d been “clean-bred.” Come, come, don’t flare up, and look as if you’d strike me. On the mother’s side she was a Kearney, and all the blood of loyalty in her veins; but there must have been something wrong with the Prince of Delos. Dido was very angry, but her breeding saved her; she didn’t take a head-centre because she quarrelled with Æneas.’

‘You are, without exception, the most conceited – ’

‘No, not ass – don’t say ass, for I’m nothing of the kind. Conceited, if you like, or rather if your natural politeness insists on saying it, and cannot distinguish between the vanity of a puppy and the self-consciousness of real power; but come, tell me of something pleasanter than all this personal discussion – how did mademoiselle convey her tidings? have you seen her note? was it “transport”? was it high-pitched, or apologetic?’

‘Kate read it to me, and I thought it reasonable enough. She had done a daring thing, and she knew it; she hoped the best, and in any case she was not faint-hearted.’

‘Any mention of me?’

‘Not a word – your name does not occur.’

‘I thought not; she had not pluck for that. Poor girl, the blow is heavier than I meant it.’

‘She speaks of Walpole; she incloses a few lines to him, and tells my sister where she will find a small packet of trinkets and such like he had given her.’

‘Natural enough all that. There was no earthly reason why she shouldn’t be able to talk of Walpole as easily as of Colenso or the cattle plague; but you see she could not trust herself to approach my name.’

‘You’ll provoke me to kick you, Atlee.’

‘In that case I shall sit where I am. But I was going to remark that as I shall start for town by the next train, and intend to meet Walpole, if your sister desires it, I shall have much pleasure in taking charge of that note to his address.’

‘All right, I’ll tell her. I see that she and Miss Betty are about to drive over to O’Shea’s Barn, and I’ll give your message at once.’

While Dick hastened away on his errand, Joe Atlee sat alone, musing and thoughtful. I have no reason to presume my reader cares for his reflections, nor to know the meaning of a strange smile, half scornful and half sad, that played upon his face. At last he rose slowly, and stood looking up at the grim old castle, and its quaint blending of ancient strength and modern deformity. ‘Life here, I take it, will go on pretty much as before. All the acts of this drama will resemble each other, but my own little melodrama must open soon. I wonder what sort of house there will be for Joe Atlee’s benefit.’

Atlee was right. Kilgobbin Castle fell back to the ways in which our first chapter found it, and other interests – especially those of Kate’s approaching marriage – soon effaced the memory of Nina’s flight and runaway match. By that happy law by which the waves of events follow and obliterate each other, the present glided back into the past, and the past faded till its colours grew uncertain.

On the second evening after Nina’s departure, Atlee stood on the pier of Kingstown as the packet drew up at the jetty. Walpole saw him, and waved his hand in friendly greeting. ‘What news from Kilgobbin?’ cried he, as he landed.

‘Nothing very rose-coloured,’ said Atlee, as he handed the note.

‘Is this true?’ said Walpole, as a slight tremor shook his voice.

‘All true.’

‘Isn’t it Irish? – Irish the whole of it.’

‘So they said down there, and, stranger than all, they seemed rather proud of it.’

THE END