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THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
THE LADY OF 
 DEERPARK 
 
 BY 
 
 SEUMAS O'KELLY 
 
 METHUEN & GO. LTD. 
 36 ESSEX STREET W.C, 
 LONDON 
 
First published in 1Q17 
 
TO 
 
 S. O'S 
 
 
 044 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PART I 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Mary Heffernan ...... i 
 
 PART II 
 
 Kish Massy ....... 91 
 
 PART III 
 After the Marriage ...... 171 
 
 vu 
 
THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 PART I 
 MARY HEFFERNAN 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 PAUL JENNINGS, the President wants 
 you." 
 I tossed out an ace, put on my coat, left 
 the ball alley, and found the President awaiting me 
 in his parlour. He laid a kindly hand on my shoul- 
 der ; in the other he held a recently opened telegram. 
 He seated me on a chair near the table. And while 
 I sat there the news was broken to me of the family 
 calamity. My father had died rather suddenly. I 
 could speak no word, no tears came to me. A blind- 
 ing sense of sorrow and a curious elation strug- 
 gled in my mind for mastery. 
 
 A little later as I flew up the stairs to the dormi- 
 tory this strange elation got the upper hand. 
 Although I was half-way through my last term I 
 could have cried out a thanksgiving that I was to 
 escape from that school, for I hated it — hated it 
 with that hidden sickening unreasoning hatred 
 which sometimes makes miserable a young life, 
 i l 
 
THE iADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 I was about to get away from it all, and death was 
 a remote thing to my mind. I fired my miserable 
 belongings into the trunk with joy. 
 
 Two evenings later I was back in the solitude of 
 the hills, sitting alone with my mother, all our 
 friends having gone away after the funeral. 
 
 She looked at me a little sadly and said, " I won- 
 der, Paul, how you will fill his place ? " 
 
 I knew that the serious side of life had begun for 
 me. My father had been agent of the Heffernan 
 property. Along the highway, like a jagged mem- 
 ory, straggled the demesne wall, eloquent in its gaps 
 and breaches. About a mile down the road was 
 an entrance gate covered with lichen. A drive, 
 overhung by elm and chestnut trees, bordered by 
 shrubberies, swept from it to a solid square flat- 
 ruuZ^d mansion of dressed limestone. A flight of 
 steps, a portico supported by granite pillars, gave 
 the entrance dignity. For background there was 
 a lavish sweep of the hills. This mansion was the 
 home and the cradle of the Heffernans, and it is 
 known to the world by the name of Deerpark. 
 
 The Heffernans were of hot blood, root and branch. 
 When one heir to the estate dropped another more 
 impossible than himself stepped into his shoes, and 
 from start to finish it was a story of spending, of 
 gambling, of running through the property. 
 
 The womenfolk of Deerpark were set up in splen- 
 did bone. They were stately of carriage, good to 
 look upon. As far as the family property was con- 
 cerned, they were well intentioned. They did what 
 they could to keep the male Heffernans straight, 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 3 
 
 and in this they failed. Some of them had their 
 hearts broken in the process, and in course of time 
 they were all ruined or exiled and the estate fell 
 into a most parlous condition. 
 
 11 
 
 I can only distinctly recollect once seeing a male 
 member of the family. He was standing at a win- 
 dow as I passed, and the impression that remains 
 with me is of a nervous-looking gentleman, very 
 florid in the face, and the most round shape that I 
 have ever beheld : a round body, a little round 
 paunch, round shoulders, round, bird-like eyes, a 
 half-opened, round mouth, a round dimple on each 
 cheek, a small round head, and a round bald patch, 
 as geometrical as a tonsure, gleaming on his crown 
 over the yellow hair. He was really a prisoner in 
 the house. The law was such at the time that if 
 he ventured forth between sunrise and sunset his 
 round body would be seized upon and he would be 
 rolled into prison in satisfaction of the family 
 debts. Consequently a number of very ugly char- 
 acters constantly hovered around the place, vul- 
 tures watching their prey. The doors and lower 
 windows of the house were barricaded, the demoral- 
 ized servants became a heroic bodyguard for their 
 master and sworn devotees of his cellars. 
 
 One day Mr. William Heffernan got down on his 
 knees in his room before a heavy chest and pulled 
 out a bottom drawer. His round hands rummaged 
 through the chaos of its contents : there were old 
 
4 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 letters, bills, Christmas cards, cheques marked 
 " refer to drawer," twine, a hammer, discarded 
 cravats, pill-boxes, part of the tusk of an elephant, 
 blessed wax candles, ribbons, camphor, and several 
 silver and bronze military medals conferred on 
 various members of the family for deeds done in 
 campaigns against inferior races in the East. And 
 at the bottom of the drawer his hand at last closed 
 about what he sought. He drew up an old pistol 
 and a tin box of cartridges. Mr. William Heffernan 
 dusted the pistol, handled it, looked doubtful of it, 
 then rose. He put in a cartridge, cocked the pistol, 
 threw up his window, and looked down into the 
 Deerpark lawn. The only living thing there was 
 a tiger cat picking its way along the walk almost 
 directly under the window. Mr. William Heffernan 
 smiled, put out the pistol with a drop of the hand 
 which expressed decision, took aim, fired. The 
 cat sprang into the air, somersaulted, showing a 
 flash of its white belly, fell back, lay tense on the 
 gravel. Mr. William Heffernan smiled and drew in 
 his round head. 
 
 " Not so bad," he said. " Nine lives in one 
 crack." He was so pleased that he polished the 
 pistol with some of the military ribbons, made a 
 round ball of them and shied them back to the 
 drawer, his smile cheerful. He put another cart- 
 ridge in the pistol and laid it beside an envelope on 
 the table. He wheeled an armchair to the fire, 
 seated himself, luxuriously smoked a cigar. When 
 finished he stretched himself, yawned, went to a 
 mirror, oiled and brushed his hair, dusted his clothes, 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 5 
 
 put on a clean collar, a showy necktie. He lay 
 down on a sofa, drawing the tails of his coat under 
 him so that there should be no unseemly creases, 
 jerked down his waistcoat, felt his necktie, and with 
 the palms of his hands smoothed upwards the cres- 
 cent eyebrows. He reached out for the pistol, 
 raised it daintily in his hand, his little finger hooked 
 upwards like a very polite lady raising her teacup. 
 The barrel of the pistol shifted about his meagre 
 brow, feeling for the direct centre, for Mr. 
 Heffernan was precise. It stopped at the dent 
 immediately above the nose, there was a pause 
 while his tongue moistened his lips, then the trigger 
 was pulled. 
 
 The faithful men-servants in the kitchen at the 
 back of the house downstairs wete seated about the 
 fire, pewter noggins in their hands, talking about 
 the good old times. The butler, Martin Fox, lay 
 asleep in a settle-bed by the wall. The hours passed. 
 The noggins were replenished, the men grew more 
 pensive about the good old days. The butler woke 
 up, yawned, looked about him, rose. He stumbled 
 over a hound stretched asleep on the floor, shuffled 
 out of the kitchen, along the hall, and mounted the 
 staircase. The hand on the banister which helped 
 his upward progress was shaky. He blinked a good 
 deal, swayed now and again ; the sleep in the settle 
 had not been altogether a success. 
 
 The butler belched some wind from his stomach 
 as he opened Mr. William Heffernan's door. His 
 uncertain gaze at last rested on the figure reclining 
 on the sofa. He crossed the room, looked down at 
 
6 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 his master for some time, made the sign of the Cross, 
 and ambled to the open window, out of which his 
 body leaned. He saw the tiger cat sneaking into 
 the shrubbery, but beyond the shrubbery he ad- 
 dressed a possible audience lurking behind the trees. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the butler, " you may now all 
 go to hell, and may the devil roast you there." He 
 spoke with very great vehemence, spat from his fiery 
 breath, and drew down the window. It was the 
 only public speech he had ever delivered. 
 
 As he turned back to the room the white envelope 
 on the dark-red mahogany table arrested his atten- 
 tion. He went over, took it up, and read with diffi- 
 culty : "To my faithful butler, Martin Fox, with 
 compliments from William Heffernan." He opened 
 the envelope and drew out a cheque. His rheumy 
 eyes ranged along the document. According to its 
 proclamation it made payable to him the sum of 
 £500. It was duly signed by William Heffernan. 
 Through the sodden brain of Martin Fox there shot 
 one superb beam of ravishing joy in the fortune 
 acquired. Lucidity and a dull numbness super- 
 vened. He put the cheque in his pocket, shuffled 
 to the sofa again and swayed over the quiet figure 
 there. 
 
 " No matter, Mister William," he said. " If it's 
 no good itself, maybe that's not your fault. Your 
 intentions were good, Mister William — your inten- 
 tions were good." 
 
 He rose on his toes and heels as he spoke, and sud- 
 denly the knowledge that something wet and sticky 
 sopped under his slippers sobered him at a stroke. 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 7 
 
 He turned and trotted to the door. At the door he 
 looked back. Dark wet marks on the carpet re- 
 corded his flight from the sofa. With a little cry 
 he kicked off the bloody slippers, and in his stocking 
 feet ambled down the stairs, whining in a low cry 
 of pain as he went. 
 
 in 
 
 I remember this occurrence mostly because I saw 
 a carriage drive up to the door that same night and 
 a girl hurry out of it. This girl was a sister to Mr. 
 William Heffernan, and the only one of the family 
 then left living in this part of the hemisphere, and I 
 remember, too, that my father spoke of her as " the 
 other prisoner," because she had been hidden away 
 in some remote part of the country. There was a 
 scuffle on the doorsteps when she alighted, blows 
 were struck between the servants and the sheriff's 
 men, and my heart fluttered with the terror which 
 comes to one who for the first time hears the rough 
 angry voices of passionate men breaking into curses 
 and imprecations. They struggled around the 
 figure of the solitary girl : she was smuggled into the 
 house in a fainting condition, and once more the 
 watchdogs found themselves at their old occupation 
 — all doors and windows, which they dared not force, 
 secured against them. The body of Mr William 
 Heffernan was quietly removed at night and com- 
 mitted without any undue ceremony to the family 
 vault in the churchyard of Gorrybeg, down the road. 
 
 The lady who had driven up to Deerpark under 
 
8 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 these circumstances was Miss Mary Heffernan. 
 She assumed ownership of the place and made great 
 efforts to pull the estate together, but it was mort- 
 gaged beyond her power of redemption, and in the 
 course of time passed into the grip of the Court of 
 Chancery. The grass was let to neighbouring far- 
 mers right up to the hall-door. She had no beast 
 of her own that stood upon four feet, if I except a 
 mare that was too old to go between the shafts. 
 
 With what she received from the Court of Chan- 
 cery she was able to hide herself away from the 
 world. A servant, a widow, one Mrs. Briscoe, who 
 had seen a great deal of the rollicking of the family, 
 looked after her wants. Miss Heffernan never 
 stirred out of Deerpark. She was still under a 
 mortal terror of lurking enemies behind the trees, 
 and no amount of persuasion would induce her to 
 venture forth. 
 
 The house itself fell into a condition of the great- 
 est dilapidation. The great bulk of the rooms 
 were stripped of every stick of furniture. The 
 paint and the paper had begun to peel off the walls 
 in long shreds, tapestries were rotting under the 
 cornices, plastering had fallen from patches of the 
 ceiling and lay untouched in little heaps on the 
 floors. The very panelling was crumbling away, 
 and I have always had the most extreme loathing 
 for rats because of the manner in which I saw them 
 coursing about the rooms of Deerpark and heard 
 them squealing and fighting behind the wainscot- 
 ing. In the lower passages and corridors there 
 was a thick damp vapour, the walls wept eternally. 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 9 
 
 Miss Heffernan could not afford to keep fires going 
 except in the few rooms at the end of the right angle 
 of the house in which she lived and into which she 
 had stacked such property, personal and valuable, 
 as had been held back from the bailiffs. If ever 
 anybody was entrenched in the last ditch, that per- 
 son was surely Miss Mary Heffernan. 
 
 Next to her horror of the now imaginary enemies 
 outside, she had one other haunting fear. She stood 
 in terror of the thought that some day the only 
 living relative she had in the world, one George 
 Heffernan, a nephew, a son of the late Mr. William 
 Heffernan, would turn up. He had been taken to 
 Australia when a boy, and was really heir to the 
 property. It was in his name, as a minor, that the 
 Court of Chancery administered the estate. If this 
 heir should ever turn up we all knew from family 
 history that he would fire the last miserable shot in 
 the Deerpark locker. His very name held such 
 terror for the lady of Deerpark that it was never 
 even mentioned to her. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 WHEN I was hurried home from school, 
 about the year 1894, to succeed my father 
 in the agency of the Deerpark property, I 
 discovered that my position was little more than 
 a nominal one. The estate was hopeless : there did 
 not seem the remotest chance of getting it out of 
 Chancery, and Miss Heffernan was living in the 
 house in the manner I have related. My friends 
 often said to me that I was wasting my time, and 
 should be looking after some business other than a 
 bankrupt estate ; but truth to tell, I had not the heart 
 to desert the last of the Heffernan race. We often 
 cling to a family like that in this part of the country, 
 partly, I think, through a strong sense of unreason- 
 able loyalty and partly through love of a more than 
 ordinarily shaky speculation. And for me there was 
 something more in the position than could be con- 
 sidered within the ambit of business ; the agency 
 and management of the Deerpark estate were tra- 
 ditional in my family. I never reasoned the thing 
 out with myself, but I had subconsciously the feeling 
 that if I were to desert Miss Heffernan because she 
 was in her last ditch in Deerpark I would be a 
 
 10 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN ii 
 
 disgrace to my name, a traitor to my traditions. 
 I was allowed sufficient by the Court to follow my 
 traditions and idle the hours away. 
 
 ii 
 
 Every morning it was my custom to call upon 
 Miss Heffernan. Should I fail to do so I knew she 
 would be greatly agitated. For in her eyes I was 
 the most important of men, being high priest of 
 the Deerpark property. Miss Heffernan believed 
 in that property as she believed in nothing else in 
 this world or the next. It was for the sake of the 
 estate that she refused to see defeat, to acknowledge 
 any degradation ; it was for the sake of the estate 
 that she sustained the family pride, kept up all the 
 possible pomp of her position. Not once did the 
 misery of her surroundings ever touch her dignity. 
 
 She would receive me in her sitting room, seated 
 at the head of the table, a pathetic pile of dosed 
 ledgers, old rent rolls, and some yellow parchment 
 documents in front of her. She would extend a 
 long arm and a lean hand to me, which I would 
 politely touch and make the best bow I could 
 manage. We would seat ourselves, one each side 
 of the documents, symbols of the dead estate, and 
 Miss Heffernan would speak about that property as 
 an exiled queen, old in sorrow, young in years, might 
 speak of her lost kingdom to a Prime Minister whose 
 very name was obliterated from the memory of her 
 subjects. We expressed much the same opinions 
 every day in the year ; the sentences were thrown 
 
12 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 up on the beach of our discussions as pebbles, 
 rounded and polished and worn with long rolling, 
 are cast up by the eternal tides of the sea. But to 
 the mind of Miss Heffernan these pebbles were 
 beautiful, precious, a necessity ; if they ceased to 
 roll her life would become rank, arid. Desolation 
 would overwhelm her. 
 
 Once in a while a letter would come from the 
 Court of Chancery, and for Miss Heffernan this was 
 always an occasion for tremendous excitement, not 
 to say emotion ; she would become as agitated as 
 the exiled queen who received some message from 
 the lost kingdom of an intrigue to bring about a 
 restoration. I have seen her hands tremble as she 
 took up such a letter to read for the sixth time. 
 Each time she read it she would discover some new 
 interpretation, and her ingenuity in reading fresh 
 meanings into very explicit and familiar legal an- 
 nouncements was really something to admire. 
 When she showed signs of a flagging imagination — 
 when all possible colours of pebbles had been cast 
 on the sands — I would venture to politely but firmly 
 disagree with her. My disagreements had always 
 the same effect ; it was as if a great wash of the 
 waves had called down all the pebbles into the 
 abyss, never to give them up again. Her excite- 
 ment would give way to tokens of absolute phy- 
 sical prostration. 
 
 On the table was a great mellow gong, and on all 
 such crises Miss Heffernan would strike that gong, 
 and in response Mrs. Briscoe would come bustling 
 into the room. 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 13 
 
 " Briscoe," Miss Heffernan would say, " fetch my 
 salts. This letter from the Lord Chancellor on the 
 affairs of the estate has much upset me. I feel quite 
 faint." 
 
 I would make some appropriate observation, 
 usually that she should not allow business preoccu- 
 pations to worry her overmuch. Briscoe would 
 fetch the smelling salts. I remember that bottle as 
 vividly as if it Were the first gift, precious beyond 
 expression in the realm of childhood, handed down 
 from a Christmas tree. It was a large yellow bottle 
 with a faded paper cover — intimate to my sight 
 now as then. I never knew that magic bottle to 
 fail Miss Heffernan in these critical moments of her 
 business preoccupations. She would remove the 
 glass stopper with the air of a sorceress going through 
 some mystic rite. Leaning back on her chair she 
 would breathe at that bottle as if she were perform- 
 ing an act of sacred devotion. And from that 
 moment her recovery was assured. The salts in the 
 bottle were as dead as the estate, but to see Miss 
 Heffernan inhale the revivifying nothingness it held 
 and instantly to recover her strength — to behold 
 this ritual and this miracle was to behold one of 
 the realities of life which we are pleased to call 
 illusions. 
 
 In all these matters Mrs. Briscoe and myself 
 humoured Miss Heffernan ; we were like a very 
 respectful audience which beholds little " business " 
 in a tragi-comedy which has grown mellow through 
 familiarity. We were faithful to the last of the 
 race. Between Mrs. Briscoe and myself there was 
 
14 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 the link of the devotees who kneel at the same way- 
 side shrine. Mrs. Briscoe had begun with a tender 
 sympathy for one in dire distress, she continued 
 through a sense of loyalty and as a matter of curious 
 speculation — at which point our devotions became 
 amalgamated — there developed for both of us a 
 remote gospel of duty, we were touched with a little 
 of the dogged zeal of the fanatic, and we grew into 
 the life as people grow into and come to accept as 
 almost imperative any set of the most extraordinary 
 circumstances. Indeed, sometimes Mrs. Briscoe 
 and myself had our own hours about the importance 
 of the Deerpark estate ; there were moments when 
 we unconsciously crossed the little frontier separating 
 the land of the Actual from the land of the Vision, 
 the little frontier where the guards of Reality and 
 the guards of Fantasy sometimes go to sleep. If 
 our quaint life were to continue I suppose Mrs. 
 Briscoe and myself would eventually acquire cour- 
 age enough to make adventures which would bring 
 us as much joy and as great magic in the Deerpark 
 property as Miss Heffernan experienced herself. 
 
 in 
 
 It was about at this period of my life that an event 
 occurred which I must touch upon because it has 
 its place in the strange events destined to take place 
 in the house called Deerpark. 
 
 I was crossing the fields near Kilbeg, a gun under 
 my arm, one day in the early summer, my object 
 being the destruction of crows which were doing 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 15 
 
 much damage to my mother's crops. I remember 
 that day as all men remember such days. I was 
 stalking the crows by a tall hedge when suddenly 
 the voice of a young girl broke into song the other 
 side of it. For quite a minute or two I was not 
 very much concerned with the song. Then sud- 
 denly I stood quite still and listened. The singer 
 was not very intent on her song, and I knew she 
 was unaware of her audience. The song — some old 
 love ballad — was sung in snatches, carelessly, half 
 forgetfully. A line would be gone through, there 
 would be a pause, another few bars, a long pause, 
 then an entire verse in a complete abandonment to 
 the song. As a vocal effort it was tantalizing. But 
 it would be quite impossible for me to explain the 
 effect of that song on me. I was scarcely breathing : 
 the pauses between the song snatches were extra- 
 ordinary ; I would have my mind made up that 
 the voice would never be heard again, and that I 
 had never heard it at all, when it would burst fresher 
 and more exquisite than ever on the breeze. The 
 dark bulk of the hedge was quite close to me, thick 
 as a wall, except for a space where the lack of foliage 
 made a vacant space around the root stumps. 
 These root stumps bulged up through clay, 
 broken twigs, decayed leaves, like swollen knuckles. 
 The sun was playing upon them. On the bright 
 side of that space was the singer, whoever she was. 
 The notes were fresh as youth, elusive as a waking 
 thought. 
 
 As I stood quietly on the dark side of the hedge I 
 had a sensation that was at first almost affrighting. 
 
16 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 I was like a man who wades into the sea and sud- 
 denly finds a ground swell lifting him off his feet. 
 Something quite as mysterious was now breaking 
 in upon my life. I stood there quite still until I was 
 satisfied that the singer had forgotten her song, 
 then I turned back on my footsteps, making for an 
 opening in the hedge that I had only a few minutes 
 previously gone by quite casually. I approached 
 it now with the feeling of one who is about to look 
 into the Unknown. The grass was rank, tall, 
 clumpy, wet with the rain of the night before, along 
 by the hedge and my boots swished eagerly through 
 it, the thick square toes spattered with the petals of 
 yellow buttercups. A blackbird, with a shriek of 
 protest, flew out of the hedge, a cow moved leisurely 
 out of my way, the not unpleasant smell of the 
 beast assailing my nostrils as I went by. Then the 
 opening in the hedge shone brightly before me and I 
 leapt through it on to a yellow heap of earth in the 
 next field, a yellow heap of earth beaten flat by the 
 hooves of animals. 
 
 The sun was flooding the field before me. The 
 grass was the vivid green of a rich pastureland well 
 cropped. But it was the brightness of the picture 
 that I was mostly conscious of. And on a little 
 green mound on that field was seated a young girl, 
 her lap full of the daisies she had gathered and from 
 which she was making a long chain by stringing 
 them together. The simplicity of the vision swept 
 over me in an emotion of pure joy. The young girl 
 turned her head and looked at me. I laughed when 
 the young girl turned her head and looked at me — 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 17 
 
 just threw back my head and laughed gaily. I was 
 no longer a being obeying any sort of logical direc- 
 tion, no longer was I at the behest of harsh Reason. 
 Something wholly unexpected in the emotion of 
 life had come to me. I had left a world, a sphere, 
 a cycle, behind me the moment I had sprung out of 
 that opening in the hedge and stood on the heap of 
 yellow earth. My heart had learnt a new cunning. 
 I was part of the mad riot of life upon the earth. I 
 was one with the wild hare who dances upon the 
 moor when the vibrating earth carries to him the 
 music of the pattering feet of a little doe on the sod. 
 I was companion of the bird whose spring hour is 
 made lyrical by the flash of a wing in the hedge. I 
 obeyed the same impulse, responded to the universal 
 instinct. I danced across the sunny space of the 
 grass to the young girl, still laughing as I went. 
 
 She arose as I approached, the alarm of a new 
 and a precious experience on her face. A shower of 
 loose daisies fell from her lap. They strew the 
 grass between us like a blessing. I stood looking 
 at the black hair that flowed down on either side 
 of her head, at the straight black brows, the little 
 veins of colour that were delicate in the direct shaft 
 of sunlight playing upon her cheeks. The eyes were 
 downcast, fixed upon the chain of daisies which she 
 had preserved and swung in her hands. I laid my 
 hand on her shoulder lightly. 
 
 " What is your name, little girl ? " I asked. 
 
 " Betty Carolan," she said. The words were softly 
 but not bashfully spoken ; there was a mysterious 
 faint dark passion in the voice that was akin to the 
 
18 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 hair, the eyebrows, the name. The lids fluttered 
 over the eyes, then the eyes themselves were raised 
 to mine, clearly, openly, expressive of a decision. 
 
 '-' And your name ? " she inquired, the same dis- 
 turbing vibration in the voice, the lips a little apart 
 as she awaited the reply. 
 
 " Paul Jennings," I said. A sudden sense of all 
 my shortcomings almost overwhelmed me. The 
 name appeared inadequate ; it seemed to call up all 
 my limitations and scatter them like the daisies 
 lying at her feet on the grass. 
 
 But the steady look of the young girl's eyes slowly 
 melted into a smile ; that smile seemed to absolve 
 all my shortcomings, to make of them things eternal 
 in the epic of life. 
 
 " Paul Jennings/' she repeated, as if trying over 
 words that came out to her from some strange world. 
 
 That was all, then. . . . But an hour later the 
 little dark songbird was quivering in my arms. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 ANEW interest warmed my life after this 
 episode. I had my secret. I was of account 
 in the world. The summer months were 
 vivid with splendid adventures over the hills. 
 
 But even at this time I could not find it in me 
 to neglect Miss Heffernan's business. 
 
 One morning in the ensuing winter I beat my 
 way to Deerpark, whistling, as is my custom when 
 making good tracks along a frosty road. Mrs. 
 Briscoe had no sooner opened the door than I sus- 
 pected something untoward had come to pass. 
 Her eyes were red from recent weeping, unkempt 
 wisps of hair were hanging about her ears. The 
 face, always so serene, had an expression of woe. 
 
 " Dear, dear," she said, her hands making a 
 gesture of despair, " the mistress has got such an 
 upset ! ' 
 
 " What happened ? " I asked. 
 
 ■ A letter came this morning," said Mrs. Briscoe. 
 She looked at me and added, " Bearing upon it the 
 Australian postmark." 
 
 I walked into the hall and we stood there, a 
 shaken little confraternity. " She fainted dead in 
 
 19 
 
20 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 my arms the moment she saw the picture of the 
 kangaroo on the stamp/' said Mrs. Briscoe. 
 
 " George Heffernan is coming home/' I said, and 
 the words rang in the hall with a dull boom. " Hell 
 wreck us in twenty-four hours. He's been ranching 
 and will come home spoiling for glory." 
 
 Mrs. Briscoe was so moved that she raised her 
 apron to her eyes. " He could not be so cruel," she 
 said. 
 
 " He's a Heffernan," I retorted. An avalanche 
 of memories crushed behind the harsh words. 
 
 With that the gong sounded upstairs. The clang 
 came down through the empty house in waves of 
 vibrating pleading. It was like the voice of doom. 
 
 " Fetch the smelling salts, Briscoe," I said, and we 
 both mounted the broad staircase, the smell of 
 dampness reeking in the air, making our way 
 through an atmosphere as thick as a London fog. 
 I knocked at Miss Heffernan's door, then opened it. 
 
 She was like a figure of Tragedy seated at the 
 head of the table, a brilliant Indian shawl, or wrap, 
 one of the preserved family treasures, about her 
 shoulders, the colour of her face ghastly by contrast, 
 the dosed ledgers, the old rent rolls, the yellow 
 parchments, the symbols of the vanished dominions, 
 before her. A hand rested limply on the rail of the 
 chair, there was a half-dazed look in her eyes. •* She 
 requires a tonic this time," I thought as I walked 
 down the long room. 
 
 She had not the energy to go through the usual 
 ceremony with her Prime Minister, and I sat down 
 when I had made a little obeisance. Her hand 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 21 
 
 strayed blindly over the account books until it 
 found an open letter, which she raised without a 
 word. I felt very much for her distress, so much 
 that I could not think of anything appropriate and 
 conventional enough to say. The Prime Minister 
 was cut adrift from his platitudes. 
 
 " Mr. Jennings," she said rather quietly, " I'm 
 so glad to see you. I wanted your help." 
 
 '* You've had serious news Mrs. Briscoe tells me," 
 I ventured. 
 
 She inclined her pallid face over the brilliant 
 Eastern shawl. " I have had serious news, indeed," 
 she admitted. 
 
 " From Australia ? " I ventured again, mention- 
 ing the danger spot on the globe with some trepida- 
 tion. 
 
 " From Australia," she acknowledged and sighed. 
 Miss Heffernan turned her head away and wiped 
 something from her eye with a handkerchief. If it 
 was a tear I could not help thinking that it was a 
 very solitary tear and removed in a very polite sort 
 of manner. 
 
 " Ah, well-a-day ! " she sighed. " Poor George ! " 
 
 I was encouraged by this evidence of an accept- 
 ance of the inevitable on the part of Miss Heffer- 
 nan. Some conventional old-world philosophy 
 was standing to her. 
 
 " When do you expect him ? " I asked with more 
 briskness. 
 
 If Miss Heffernan required a tonic — and indeed 
 she did — I supplied it by my brisk question. Her 
 tall, somewhat angular frame was galvanized into 
 
22 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 life at once. A shock had gone through her body 
 with electrical effect. She looked as if she were 
 about to call out — to call out in genuine terror — 
 controlled herself after a struggle, and then groped 
 a little blindly to the side of the table. I was much 
 amazed, not to say alarmed. I had an idea that Miss 
 Heffernan would suddenly collapse over the side of 
 the table. I was entirely helpless, could not think 
 of anything effective that I might do. I had been 
 so much accustomed to conventional interviews in 
 that room that a departuie from them left me quite 
 useless. My eyes wandered aimlessly about until 
 they caught sight of that friendly gong on the table. 
 It was part of the ritual of the place. I raised the 
 drum-stick and struck the gong a resounding thump. 
 Mrs. Briscoe rushed in with the great yellow bottle. 
 Miss Heffernan groped back to her chair, the bottle 
 was applied. 
 
 I was filled with terror lest it should fail on this 
 unusual occasion. My feelings were like those of 
 one who gazes at a daring feat on the trapese, tense 
 with a morbid fascination and dreading some slip 
 which might end in tragedy. The restoration was 
 not so rapid as ordinarily, but gradually Miss Heffer- 
 nan recovered herself. When she turned to me 
 again her expression was one of mild reproof, a brave 
 smile struggling through a cloud of sadness. 
 
 " You are so injudicious," she chided me gently. 
 Then, falling more into her old attitude, she an- 
 nounced quite distinctly, "I am not expecting 
 George. Poor George has died." 
 
 I was so sincerely relieved to hear the news that 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 23 
 
 I said, " Dead ? George Heffernan dead ? Thank 
 God ! " 
 
 I had no sooner, in the honest gush of my relief, 
 said the words than I realized that I was disgracing 
 myself as a diplomatist. I recovered myself so 
 quickly, however, that with a brazen effrontery alto- 
 gether politic I said in a loud insincere tone, " Dead ? 
 How sad ! I am very sorry to hear it, Miss Heffer- 
 nan, very sorry, indeed." 
 
 After a moment's hesitation Miss Heffernan helped 
 me out by pretending she had only heard the obser- 
 vation of insincere regret. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, poor George ! " she said. " It 
 was so sudden." Then in a murmur, her eyes gazing 
 somewhat absently out of a window, she added, " I 
 am the very last now." 
 
 A silence followed, a silence which seemed to 
 settle down on the room. The pathos of her words 
 struck me. All that was left of the Heffernans sat 
 there in her weird room, a frightened thing, sensi- 
 tive and nervous, living in a land of illusions, bun- 
 dled away while still in her comparative youth from 
 the sight of the world in an angle of the once stirring 
 family home, a straight, tall, narrow figure, as 
 splendid in bone as any woman of the Heffernans who 
 had ever lived, wrapped in a shawl worked in colours 
 of brown and gold and green — an owl brooding in a 
 half dark place wearing the wings of some magnifi- 
 cent tropical butterfly. 
 
24 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 ii 
 
 Miss Heffernan was speaking in an undertone 
 for some time before I realized what she was 
 saying. ..." But I had always great faith in my 
 brothers, and, you know, George was the son of my 
 brother William. So very like my dear father was 
 William, and everybody was struck with the resem- 
 blance between father and Sir Maurice Heffernan, the 
 seventh baronet. You could not help noticing the 
 likeness even in their portraits, which are there be- 
 hind the chest in the far corner of the room. ... I 
 had faith in my brothers always, and I had, above 
 all, faith in William's son. I knew that as the 
 last of the male line George would not fail me, that 
 he would redeem the family name. It would be 
 so unlike a Heffernan not to do so at the very last. 
 George has not failed me. ... I would not have 
 blamed him, indeed, if he had altogether forgotten 
 me, but all his thoughts must have come back to 
 this home of his at the very last. His remembrance 
 must have been so affectionate, so intimate. Is it 
 not a very lonely thing to live in Australia, Mr. 
 Jennings ? " 
 
 " Life in the Bush, I believe, is very lonely." 
 " Well, George lived a great deal in the Bush, 
 especially in the beginning. It must be such a 
 wonderful place ! He never married. He was as 
 much alone as myself. And now all this fortune ! 
 I suppose I shall have a great deal of business to 
 think of since so much money is involved. ... It 
 was his last wish that the estate should be redeemed. 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 25 
 
 I am so glad they told me that. What do you think 
 I had better do first, Mr. Jennings ? " 
 
 " Has George left you money, Miss Heffernan ? " 
 I asked, incredulity in my voice in spite of myself. 
 
 " Oh, yes. That is what I have been just telling 
 you ! Quite a large fortune/' 
 
 I was a little stupefied at hearing that a male 
 Heffernan — and the last of them — had died leaving 
 money instead of fresh work for a Court of Equity. 
 
 " Read the letter for yourself, Mr. Jennings/' she 
 said. 
 
 My eyes fell on a printed memorandum from the 
 firm of Henshaw and Davidson, solicitors, Sydney. 
 The typewritten document announced, with regret, 
 the death of their client, Mr. George Heffernan, who 
 had, shortly before his demise, executed a will now 
 in the possession of Messrs Henshaw and Davidson. 
 The terms of the will were short and simple, naming 
 his aunt, Miss Mary Heffernan, gentlewoman, of 
 Deerpark, county Galway, Ireland, sole legatee. 
 The estate, which involved a very considerable 
 property, was at present under investigation, and a 
 more detailed statement would follow in due course ; 
 certain sales of sheep stations in New South Wales 
 were in the meantime being carried out according 
 to their late client's instructions, and the realization 
 of the sales, together with a list of the bonds, securi- 
 ties and shares concerned, would be furnished as 
 soon as possible to the legatee. Messrs. Henshaw 
 and Davidson would, meanwhile, like to hear from 
 Miss Heffernan, or her solicitors, and to consider 
 such instructions as she might deem advisable. 
 
26 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 The late Mr. Heffernan had, shortly before his death, 
 instructed them to convey his affections to Miss 
 Heffernan, and to express the wish that she would 
 continue in the possession of Deerpark and revive 
 the family estate there, a project which the testator 
 had himself in contemplation when he was taken ill. 
 
 in 
 
 Miss Heffernan continued to gaze absently through 
 the window, and when I had done reading the letter 
 from Sydney I looked about the weird room. It 
 was as disorderly and yet as orderly as some great 
 auction mart preceding a big sale of antiques ; but 
 the antiques here were not the remnants of scores of 
 broken homes, of dead romances, of rising and fallen 
 fortunes, of family flights. They were all of the 
 one heart throb, the collection of a family which had 
 bred treasure-seekers from generation to generation. 
 That grand medley of personal family property lay 
 stacked along by the walls, piled in the corners, 
 heaved up on shelves, sticking out of overflowing 
 presses : curios and relics, pieces of rare furniture, 
 primitive war weapons from the East, unknown 
 things of fantastic shape sewn roughly into faded 
 calico covers, great solid iron-bound chests piled 
 one upon the other, which I often imagined belonged 
 to sailors who had turned pirates on the high seas, 
 wonderful treasure trove no doubt secreted within 
 them. Here was the shape of a harp in a shroud, 
 leaning against it were the enormous antlers of an 
 elk. A stuffed Irish wolf-hound stood nobly on 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 27 
 
 the upturned bottom of a primitive canoe which 
 had sailed down God only knows what African 
 forest river. Pictures of generations of Heffernans 
 lay stacked in their frames against the walls, a 
 grand procession of splendid gentlemen whose very 
 memories were thus brought into obloquy. Coats 
 of armour lay about, one complete warrior with his 
 helmet stuck against the wall, his chest rounded up 
 to a wooden shield with the cuts of arrows still 
 visible upon it, his short thick limbs lost in the skin 
 of a tiger, his stout arm resting on the prostrate 
 form of a bronze Venus as if he had stricken her 
 down in a moment of jealous rage. 
 
 There Miss Heffernan sat now, the presiding god- 
 dess over all this concentrated antiquity, her eyes 
 shining with a new light from out the green pallor 
 of her face, her hands absently hitching the brilliant 
 shawl, its shimmering movements as startling as the 
 flutterings of the magnificent wings of the tropical 
 butterfly. Under the influence of this moment of 
 reverie my own mind began to wander, too ... I 
 was recalled by the drumming of Miss Heffernan's 
 fingers on the table. The dream was over ! The 
 new era had already begun ! 
 
 " What do you think I had better do first, Mr. 
 Jennings ? " she asked. 
 
 I collected my scattered wits. " This letter has 
 first of all to be acknowledged," I said, handing her 
 back the document from Messrs. Henshaw and 
 Davidson. " Then, of course, you must see a solici- 
 tor — some man of standing — and instruct him to 
 act for you in the subsequent negotiations." 
 
28 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 " That occurred to me," said Miss Heffernan. " I 
 should place the whole matter in his hands, you 
 think ? " 
 
 " Yes ; there is nothing else for it." 
 
 " Should I see a bank man ? " she asked timidly. 
 
 " Not just at the moment," I said. She looked 
 crestfallen. 
 
 " You will find, Miss Heffernan," I said " after 
 you have seen your solicitor and he has fixed things 
 up with the authorities in Australia, that all other 
 sorts of people whom you may require — and many 
 more whom you won't require — will come along of 
 their own accord." 
 
 " It looks genuine, does it not, Mr. Jennings ? " 
 she said, touching the letter. 
 
 ' Yes, it looks all right and genuine," I said. 
 " And it is wonderfully good news, Miss Heffernan. 
 I am glad to be the first to offer congratulations." 
 
 She inclined her head in acknowledgment, the 
 shawl shimmered, a shower of brown and gold and 
 green looking as if it tumbled down the cascade of 
 her shoulder. 
 
 " Of course you can arrange about the solicitor 
 and all that ? " she said. 
 
 " Certainly," I replied. The Prime Minister was 
 receiving his portfolio. 
 
 Mrs. Briscoe opened the door and announced, 
 " Miss Silver has called. She#vill see you in your 
 own room, miss." 
 
 " Thanks, Briscoe. I shall see her presently." 
 
 I was thunderstruck at this. A visitor in Deer- 
 park ! Unheard of ! I expect Miss Heffernan 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 29 
 
 noticed some of the amazement in my face. Her 
 own fingers were trembling as she returned the 
 S3'dney letter to its envelope. 
 
 " I sent for her this morning — after I had read 
 the letter — after I had recovered," Miss Heffernan 
 said with nervousness. 
 
 " Who is she ? " I asked. 
 
 " The dressmaker — the dressmaker from the vil- 
 lage," Miss Heffernan said. 
 
 I had clean forgotten the corner-stone of civiliza- 
 tion ! I rose at once and took my departure. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 MY first emotion following the announce- 
 ment of the turn in the wheel of the Heffer- 
 nan fortune was one of pain and uneasiness. 
 I could not analyse this emotion, or explain it. All 
 I know is that a gloomy, ugly sensation came to me. 
 Briscoe, I also noticed, looked dejected. She 
 seemed to have lost some of the vigour of her move- 
 ments, to have weakened at the hips. Perhaps it 
 was because our monopoly in the Deerpark tragi- 
 comedy was ended, perhaps it was because our 
 loyalty was after all such a poor thing that it could 
 now be paid off by a just and material reward, 
 perhaps it was because of something in our peculiar 
 Celtic psychology too elusive for me to diagnose — 
 but whatever it was, Briscoe and myself had it, 
 suffered from it. A miracle had happened at the 
 wayside shrine where we worshipped and we knew 
 that it would become commercialized. Even if Miss 
 Heffernan, Briscoe, and myself, had resolved to sup- 
 press all knowledge of the miracle, even if we had 
 barricaded Deerpark and put a gun at every win- 
 dow, we knew that we could not keep back the 
 
 30 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 31 
 
 human tide which had already, in the person of Miss 
 Silver, dressmaker and precursor, been heralded. 
 
 Mr. O'Moore, solicitor, a wiry, sandy, keen-eyed 
 gentleman, having his ofhce in the near-by town 
 of Ballyrea, arrived and the case was put before him. 
 He was immensely interested. We had several 
 interviews with him, altogether agreeable. His 
 manner of coming to the point, of accepting the 
 miracle as an everyday occurrence, of mapping out 
 the procedure with Messrs. Henshaw and Davidson, 
 of informing us as to the Administration proceedings, 
 made life in Deerpark enter on a new phase. Under 
 its influence Mrs. Briscoe and myself shed our des- 
 pondency. Miss Heffernan knew no despondency at 
 any time. She had always believed in the existence 
 of a valuable property. She had merely wakened 
 from a dream to find that the dream was very like 
 the waking reality. Ghosts in whom she had always 
 a belief walked out of the shadows, assumed flesh 
 and blood, and one could not say for certain whether 
 they had been merely playing at ghosts, or were now 
 playing at reality. 
 
 Mr. O'Moore had a clear, ringing, plump voice. 
 He read particularly well. And his voice, quite 
 intuitively I am sure, was regulated strictly accord- 
 ing to the importance of the document which he 
 perused. An acknowledgment of a letter, or an 
 appeal on behalf of some public charity, he raced 
 over harshly, almost incoherently. The items of a 
 bill of costs sang up out of his throat in a pure tenor 
 of distinct, sweet, perfectly formed and flexible 
 quality. Thus it was that when he came to Deer- 
 
32 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 park one afternoon with a communication from 
 Messrs. Henshaw and Davidson, and read a list of 
 the securities and shares in the matter of the estate 
 of the late Mr. George Heffernan, I had the illusion 
 that a lark had risen out of the lawn. 
 
 Mr. George Heffernan had quite obviously only a 
 lukewarm interest in Australia in the arrangement 
 of his investments ; he had only, staked something 
 on a wool exporting company, and a bank (of which 
 he had had the intention of becoming a director 
 were it not for the treachery of his kidneys). His 
 estimate of New Zealand, as expressed in the shares 
 of oil companies, was more emphatic. He had 
 what one might call the traditional admiration of 
 wealthy men for British Consuls, he put American 
 railroads in a neck-to-neck race with them ; he 
 expanded visibly when he came to think of Eng- 
 lish thread and cotton, Irish linen, and woollens. 
 It was not, however, until he turned his eyes upon 
 breweries both in Ireland and Great Britain that he 
 rose to his full stature as a speculator ; his enthu- 
 siasm for the genius of his kith and kin to run and 
 maintain successful breweries was nothing short of 
 superb. He practically staked his all on it. His 
 daring almost stunned me. Messrs. Henshaw and 
 Davidson had given the dividends paid on foot of 
 the various investments for the past three years — 
 as an inkling of their value — and as Mr. O'Moore 
 rounded his chiselled lips and trilled out the percen- 
 tages I had the profound feeling, the splendid, sud- 
 den, rapture, which lifts one's soul when the notes of 
 a supreme singer strike the drums of the ears. The 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 33 
 
 concluding bars on the amount of the brewery 
 shares, and the dividends paid on these brewery 
 shares, rose up, note after note, until Mr. O'Moore's 
 voice, extraordinarily sensitive to the measure, 
 soared into a falsetto of haunting quality ; one's 
 mind strained, tense and profoundly moved, on 
 that sweet and delicate vein of sound, swooning 
 away with the last exquisite touch — 30 per cent, 
 and a bonus ! I was so moved by this lyrical effort 
 that I could scarcely follow the concluding para- 
 graphs of the letter, which Mr. O' Moore delivered 
 in the recitative manner, dealing with the transfer 
 of these shares from the late Mr. George Heffernan 
 to the legatee, Miss Mary Heffernan, and to arrange- 
 ments with regard to the moneys (apart from all the 
 securities mentioned) lying to credit of the account 
 of Mr. Heffernan in the Bank of Australia at the 
 time of his death and since augmented by the pro- 
 ceeds of the sales of sheep stations in New South 
 Wales. 
 
 Miss Heffernan, into whose lap Mr. O' Moore was 
 pouring all these gifts, sat quite unmoved in her 
 chair, her interest in the proceedings intelligent, 
 but her eyes now and again wandering to the familiar 
 grey patch of sky visible through the nearest win- 
 dow. That patch of grey sky was the scroll upon 
 which Miss Heffernan had read many wonders ; 
 the splendid canticle of dividends which Mr. O' Moore 
 had just sung was no greater than the canticles 
 which Miss Heffernan had heard sung in the grey 
 sky over the hills. 
 
34 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 ii 
 
 A rumble of voices came up from the lower pas- 
 sages of Deerpark one day ; I saw a half-dozen rats 
 scurry along a passage and disappear, terrified, 
 under the staircase. Through the fog came a dark 
 active figure, the hands waving with energy ; this 
 dark figure was followed by a group of people in 
 white suits, a team of silent acolytes. I stood 
 amazed, then realized the situation. . . . The con- 
 tractor who was to restore Deerpark had arrived, 
 followed by his men. While the house was in his 
 hands Miss Heffernan was induced to take a holiday 
 at a quiet seaside place. She took Briscoe with her 
 as companion. 
 
 It may be that my eyes saw more than the others. 
 But it was all as vivid to my mind as a tense moment 
 in drama. Her descent down the broad ancestral 
 staircase was the physical expression of an extra- 
 ordinary emancipation. The murmur of voices in 
 the hall died down instinctively the moment she 
 was seen descending. We drew up along by the 
 walls, leaving a clear passage to the door. Her 
 carriage was unconsciously stately, deliberate, al- 
 most majestic. I could feel that those about me 
 had caught the thrill of the moment. As she 
 crossed the hall I noticed some tremor in the figure, 
 a little hesitation in the steps ; the black costume 
 she wore accentuated the ashen green pallor of the 
 face, a pallor more noticeable in this light than in the 
 semi-dark rooms to which Miss Heffernan had con- 
 demned herself. Her eyes looked into the unknown 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 35 
 
 world a little fearfully. I walked quietly to her 
 side ; I was conscious that she was grateful, that 
 her nervousness was lessened. 
 
 She stood for some moments in the portico, her 
 breast heaving more rapidly, her breath quickening. 
 My mind flew back to the night of gloom when men 
 struggled and cursed at the same spot as she arrived 
 to take up the Heffernan burden. Then as now a 
 carriage was drawn up at the doorsteps. But the 
 carriage that night was a black spectre that had 
 rumbled mysteriously out of a night of horror ; the 
 carriage to-day was black, too, but a thing that 
 shone all over in the bright morning light like the 
 silk hat of a bridegroom. The carriage pair were 
 magnificent chestnuts fresh from the Kish Massy 
 stables. The harness was silver-mounted. The 
 coachman, like one who was carved out with the 
 vehicle itself, was the son of a coachman who had 
 driven a former Heffernan to their joint deaths 
 over a river bridge, returning from a race. The door 
 of the carriage was held open by a footman of magni- 
 ficent diminutiveness, the grandson of a footman 
 whom a Heffernan had thrown over a banister in 
 Deerpark after a night of cards, of drinking, and 
 what not. Miss Heffernan's hand trembled, and I 
 helped her into the carriage. Briscoe followed, and 
 they seated themselves. 
 
 Barlow, the coachman, made some slight move- 
 ment of the ribbons, the pair of chestnuts snorted, 
 pawed, showed the whites of their eyes, swung round, 
 and away down the drive went the carriage. The 
 audience on the doorsteps — mostly the old servants 
 
36 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 newly organized — waved their hats, their handker- 
 chiefs, their hands, and from below the belt of 
 trees a great cheer went up. There was no mis- 
 taking that " Ya-hoo ! ya-hoo ! ya-hoo \ " It was 
 the terrible slogan of the Land League, primitive, 
 defiant, mad — music that sprang from the very 
 bowels of agrarianism. The tenants had collected 
 about the entrance of Deerpark to give their new 
 landlord a friendly send-off. 
 
 I was going up the steps of the house when that 
 " ya-hoo " struck my ears. I stopped dead ; a 
 quiver went up my spine and down my spine ; my 
 nails clammed into the palms of my hands, into the 
 toes of my boots ; my nostrils quivered and I 
 sniffed at the very air with an animal instinct. 
 Don't ask me to account for this sensation, which 
 was quite splendidly painful while it lasted. Re- 
 member that I came of the blood of land agents. 
 It passed in a moment. I continued my way 
 into Deerpark, my mind anxious but elated at all 
 the responsibilities which now rested upon it. 
 
 »8 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 WHEN Miss Heffernan returned from the sea- 
 side, where she spent several months, the 
 restoration of Deerpark was almost com- 
 plete. Her holiday had done her an immensity of 
 good. She had no longer the ashen green pallor of 
 the attic dweller. She was still pale, but it was a 
 natural pallor. She had done a good deal of bathing 
 in the open sea. Her flesh had a look of firmness. 
 She was no longer gaunt, but it would be too much 
 to say that she had grown plump. Her stately 
 carriage was now stately with the grace of a freer 
 and swifter motion. She took an immense interest 
 in all the affairs of the house, and was at pains to see 
 that the furnishing was kept well to tradition. The 
 treasures which had been so long stacked away in 
 an angle of the mansion were restored to their proper 
 places. The old ledgers, the rent rolls, the parch- 
 ment documents, were put away. The great bottle 
 of smelling salts was seen no more. 
 
 The revival of the estate was within my special 
 province. New books and records accumulated. 
 I turned into the library, where due thought might 
 be given to the revival of old activities on the pro- 
 perty and the inauguration of new ones. Miss 
 
 37 
 
38 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 Heffernan was anxious to see around her an active 
 rural community — if any rural community can be 
 called active. 
 
 il 
 
 When I look back upon it, it seems curious to me 
 that I was not quicker to observe the change in Miss 
 Heffernan — for although I was aware of the altered 
 conditions, they did not become significant of any- 
 thing more than what might have been expected. 
 One day it struck me suddenly that Miss Heffernan 
 had her hair dressed in some new fashion that was 
 still an old fashion. 
 
 We were in the library at the time, discussing the 
 possibilities of the re-opening of the green marble 
 and the limestone quarries. I was so struck with 
 the change in the manner of her hair-dressing that I 
 paused for quite a long time in the conversation. I 
 was, of course, always aware that she had the yellow 
 hair peculiar to the Heffernan family. But it had 
 always been brushed flat into the skull, tied into 
 an uncompromising hard knot behind, terribly ex- 
 pressive of her own life. Now when it got more play 
 I was interested to find that it had quite a gleam, 
 that it was not only yellow, but a rich yellow. It 
 seemed curiously in harmony with the other family 
 characteristics of the Heffernan face : pallid skin, 
 but the pallid skin which conceals healthy, strong 
 blood ; long features, the nose somewhat hooked, 
 the chin decisive but not aggressive ; an expression 
 of mildness which belied a gritty and passionate 
 temperament ; a tranquil outlook expressed in large 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 39 
 
 grey eyes. The eyes, in Miss Heffernan's case, were 
 unusually tranquil, but so warm in colour that they 
 could hardly be described as grey. They expressed 
 more her own temperament than any mere family 
 characteristic. 
 
 The rather prolonged period of mourning which 
 she had entered after the death of her nephew went 
 by. I noticed the flash of some jewellery which 
 had survived the storms. I had the feeling that 
 Miss Heffernan's own manner brightened with the 
 advent of the jewellery. The rustle of silks and 
 satins betrayed her movements about the house. 
 In her costumes she affected fashions new to her 
 but not according to the conventions of the women 
 of her day. This was deliberate ; it did not arise 
 from any failure on the part of Miss Heffernan to 
 appreciate the fashions of the hour ; it was simply 
 that her tastes and her desires, spontaneously and 
 almost unconsciously, went back to sacred and old 
 and splendid things. She had always had the pas- 
 sion for robing her splendid body in rich colours. 
 As the period of mourning lapsed this passion re- 
 asserted itself under conditions of complete freedom. 
 The touches of colour went on increasing until she 
 arrived at a point in her manner of dress distinctly 
 her own. The house had at this time been completed, 
 even to the restoration of the family pictures on the 
 walls, and Miss Heffernan had more time to spend on 
 her own personal adornment, and to the direction of 
 the revival of the gardens at the back of the house. 
 
 One of the windows of the library looked down 
 on a corner of the flower gardens. Miss Heffernan 
 
40 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 spent a great deal of her leisure hours in that gar- 
 den, coming into my view frequently. The flower 
 beds were strictly the product of the trained gar- 
 dener ; they were fashioned on a sweep of green L 
 sward around an ancient sundial, shaped round, 
 and oval, and diamond, with cute little crescents 
 between. They were geometrical to a hair, dis- 
 playing blooms as gloriously conventional as their 
 design. There was the fuchsia of the theatrical- 
 blossom variety drooping artistically in the centre, 
 round it flamed the scarlet geranium, round them 
 shot the blue lobelia, and like a thin line of froth 
 the white edging of alyssum. Amid these displays 
 moved the form of Miss Heffernan, arrayed in some 
 print material* of extraordinary colours, a filmy silk 
 Eastern wrap across her shoulders. And while she 
 was the most brilliant thing even among the crea- 
 tions of her gardeners, it seemed the most natural 
 thing in the world that she should be so. Miss 
 Heffernan had not alone the intuition but the excep- 
 tional, racial, heroic lines to carry colours that were 
 brilliantly harmonious. She seemed to me like a 
 being out of a past which was greater than anything 
 in our mean day. 
 
 Once I remember saying to her, as we looked 
 down on this garden, " How geometrical the flower 
 beds are ! The mind of the gardener must be the 
 least imaginative in the world." She considered 
 the question for a moment in her deliberate way, 
 crunching a leaf of southernwood between her 
 fingers. " They never struck me that way," she 
 said. " I only see the flowers." 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 41 
 
 " So the geometry does not count ? " I asked. 
 
 " No," she said. " A scarlet geranium in my eye 
 would dwarf all the geometry ever conceived." 
 She turned and smiled a little at me saying, " Does 
 it matter under what conditions beauty is created ? 
 If it is beauty, does anything else matter ? " 
 
 " So I am never to mention geometry again ? " I said. 
 - " No," she replied. " Let all your eyes be for 
 the great beauty of the flowers." I smiled, too, at 
 the little lecture, and she moved across the room, 
 leaving a suggestion of the perfume of the crushed 
 leaf of southernwood behind her. 
 
 in 
 
 Families in the neighbourhood of Deerpark who 
 had been oblivious to Miss Heffernan's existence 
 now called upon her and were properly received. 
 Miss Heffernan, on her part, returned the calls, and 
 a mild social life developed. She gave an occasional 
 dinner, an occasional tennis or croquet party assem- 
 bled on the lawn, and we all enjoyed these little 
 gatherings. Miss Heffernan liked to see her friends, 
 but beyond her affection for Lady Newell she never 
 had any enthusiasm for her neighbours. She 
 seemed to understand them with wonderful quick- 
 ness for one who had never had any intercourse with 
 anybody beyond Mrs. Briscoe and myself. She 
 was friendly with the rearguard of the land- owners 
 who lingered in these parts, lonely comets cast off 
 by a volcanic agrarian age, families who still clung 
 to the feudal halls of their progenitors, most of them 
 
42 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 dowagers, ladies who sat all day at their windows 
 speaking in mellow sadness of fallen fortunes, lapsed 
 titles, dead romances, of things that had been and 
 that had never been, prophesying evil for the gener- 
 ations to come, queer poor old grey owls moping in 
 the holes of the immensely thick walls that were 
 the keeps of other days, eternally droning out their 
 family lamentations, unconscious plagiarists of 
 Ezekiel and Jeremiah. I had a dread for a little 
 time that since travel or town life made no appeal 
 to Miss Heffernan, and that temperamentally J she 
 had no taste for society, she would fall into this 
 sad life by the rural window. It was her habit 
 in the evening to do some fancy work, to create in 
 silk threads marigolds of a flat yellow immensity 
 on white silk backgrounds, the stalks very brown 
 and of wonderful thickness, the green leaves shaded 
 with such powerful distinctness that they made 
 one weep, the tendrils of the stalks fantastic looking 
 as the tentacles of undersea monsters. These 
 creations were destined for cushion covers. 
 
 When first I saw Miss Heffernan take her work- 
 basket and her embroidery frame into a west win- 
 dow to create these wonders, I said, " Ah, she is 
 settling down at the window ! She will sit there 
 until her hour has come ! She will specialize in 
 sunsets. It is the beginning of a traditional end/' 
 If she did not do fancy work, she read, and indeed it 
 was better for her to read, for she read with intelli- 
 gence and had a certain discrimination in her choice 
 of books. But she never succumbed to the life by 
 the window. She was outside the environment, 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 43 
 
 beyond the reach of the influence of her neighbours. 
 Her intercourse with them was perfect in its diplo- 
 macy. She would no more think of living like the 
 ladies of Connacht than she would think of sharing 
 with them a secret of consequence or picking with 
 them a quarrel. " For," she once said, " quarrels 
 and secrets are the two golden bridges to intimacy 
 — and intimacy is always fatal." 
 
 She, therefore, never became one of the candles 
 guttering out on the forsaken altars of feudalism. 
 On the contrary, she developed an activity which 
 seemed more and more to go back for its inspiration 
 to other days. 
 
 Her voice changed. The tragic hoarseness which 
 so well became her former condition disappeared. 
 She even learned how to laugh again, and there was 
 something extraordinary in that laugh — it was well 
 bred and had some flavour of a rich newness that I 
 cannot very well describe. Her step became light, 
 and I once saw her at the top of the staircase gather 
 up the folds of her dress — when she thought nobody 
 was about — and with that extraordinary little ripple 
 of laughter trip like a debutante down the carpeted 
 stairs in slippers that looked eager to dance. Month 
 after month I was a silent spectator of that wonder- 
 ful transformation, noting with a silent pleasure — 
 a pleasure that was a secret delight to my mind — 
 the turns it took. And through it all Miss Heffernan 
 retained her former self, all of her former self that 
 was sweet and dignified. 
 
 I was always conscious that her outlook was in- 
 stinctively for that which was good in the past 
 
44 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 rather than what might be good in the future. She 
 had no craze for a gamble in futurity, and the present 
 did not disturb her, for she rather ignored the con- 
 ventions and agitations of her day. I don't know 
 how the idea came to me first, but I oftentimes 
 thought as I caught a glimpse of her — bending over 
 her flowers in the garden, lifting up her arms, which 
 were no longer thin, to fix up a strand of loose yellow 
 hair, moving along one of the ancestral corridors in 
 a trailing gown — at odd moments like these I was 
 always reminded of certain miniatures of ladies in 
 medallions and lockets which my mother greatly 
 treasured and which had a fascination for me even 
 as a boy. They were, to my eyes at all events, 
 delicately and beautifully painted miniatures of 
 handsome women — relatives of our family — who 
 lived long ago, dim pictures of women who gazed 
 at one from a calm past, an age which they must 
 have made sweet by their rare beauty and appealing 
 charm. When I saw Miss Heffernan in certain 
 lights and in odd poses I always remembered the 
 dim pictures in the old medallions. Then she would 
 pass me by quite closely, or stand beside me for a 
 moment, and from the sound of her voice, a quick 
 flash of the eye, a momentary heave of the bosom, 
 perhaps even a swish of her garments, I would be 
 keenly alive to the fact that a vital and very womanly 
 personality was close at hand. 
 
 As one might have expected, Miss Heffernan took 
 great joy in life out of doors. Quite frequently I 
 accompanied her in her carriage, making little ex- 
 cursions to pleasant places, and it was most wonder_ 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 45 
 
 ful to observe the keen pleasure she took in every- 
 thing that enfolded itself to the gaze. 
 
 The very air and the sun were, in a sense, new to 
 her, for she had been a recluse practically since 
 childhood. She was joyous in a subdued way, 
 expressed her impressions in a quaint old-world 
 manner and still with a frankness that held within 
 it an element of the freshness of youth. 
 
 I could not, in thus accompanying her, in sharing 
 her quiet enjoyments, help catching some of her 
 spirit, her outlook. Her surprise and delight at 
 the things she saw oftentimes became my surprise 
 and delight. The familiarity of common things no 
 longer engendered in me a monotony ; I began to 
 see in the trees, the hills, the sky — in the flight of a 
 bird, the poise of a cloud, the colour of a flower — 
 something that fascinated an imagination freshly 
 sensitive to life. This experience had some relation 
 — but only a dim relation — to the sensation of a 
 grown person listening with interest to the prattle 
 of an imaginative child. I was in a sense again 
 become young with Miss Heffernan. But there was 
 always that something else which made the experi- 
 ence so rarely and powerfully precious. Miss 
 Heffernan had the eyes of a child and the restraint 
 of a seer. Over it all there was a delicate refine- 
 ment, a thing that exhaled, mysterious, elusive, 
 ignored, yet dominant as personality, powerful as 
 the sense of sex, a force which at moments became 
 so vibrant that it almost frightened me. 
 
 Once when we were driving along a road overhung 
 with great trees, where bird voices were very joyous, 
 
46 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 where rivers leaped through wooded places, where 
 there were glimpses of alluring bowers, she sat very 
 quietly in her carriage, her being at the same time 
 so wrought upon by the beauty of the experience 
 that she might be in the throes of some religious 
 emotion. A poor woman, a wanderer on the 
 roads, came along, stepping actively in her bare 
 feet, a little child in her arms, wrapped in a ragged 
 shawl. Miss Heffernan looked at the mother and 
 the child, wonder in her gaze. She ordered the 
 coachman to pull up. 
 
 The beggarwoman came to the carriage side, her 
 eyes strained to the mendicant appeal, a professional 
 look of agony that I hate above all sights. Her 
 voice rose up in the traditional whine. She raced 
 out the chaplet of her complaints as a novice goes 
 over the scales on a musical instrument. The 
 Mother of God, St. Joseph, St. Anthony, all the 
 saints and angels in the choirs of glory, were in- 
 volved in her affairs, braced up to her wants. Any 
 little assistance that came to her was a debt which 
 would be repaid by a pouring down of the treasures 
 of heaven upon the donor. But Miss Heffernan did 
 not appear in the least disturbed by the threat of 
 these heavenly manifestations ; she was gazing 
 upon the infant asleep in the mother's arms. The 
 infant was as all infants, a little tuft of red hair 
 shining on its white skull like a pallid flame. The 
 beggarwoman, with the quick intuition of her kind, 
 was alive to the sympathies of her patron ; she 
 made some rapid re-arrangements of her clothing. 
 . . . The infant was revealed resting on the full 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 47 
 
 white exposed bosom, one hand clutching the breast 
 from which it had recently suckled. • It was a pic- 
 ture of life at its source, eternal and wondrous, a 
 picture that gave the beggarwoman a place in the 
 splendid heritage of motherhood, dignity as an in- 
 strument of human life. Miss Heffernan heaved a 
 long sigh as she gazed on the sleeping infant on the 
 mother's breast. She bent forward, touching its 
 little arm with her hand, and the action was the most 
 tender caress and at the same time an act of rever- 
 ence. 
 
 " How beautiful the child is ! " she said. 
 
 " Seven weeks old she is, your ladyship, and as 
 quiet as a lamb," said the mother. " Born on the 
 side of the road she was on me, a windy evening, 
 too, but they sent the car from the workhouse and 
 took us into the ward. The nuns were very good 
 to me, your ladyship, and indeed they won't be 
 without their reward in heaven. The holy Mother 
 of God knows that." 
 
 I was becoming a little impatient and the beggar- 
 woman was growing aggressive as she realized that 
 she had come upon one who was not of the ordinary 
 worldly mould. Miss Heffernan emptied her purse 
 into the brown, sinewy, grasping hands of the woman, 
 and the carriage moved on. 
 
 After this I noticed a certain pensiveness in the 
 expression of my companion. Her eyes followed 
 the sweep of the road, the arch of the trees, the 
 patches of sunlight slanting through the leaves, the 
 merry dancing of the light on the white dust of the 
 road. 
 
48 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 " All this is so fine," Miss Heffernan said, " but 
 that little child — how exquisite it was above all 
 earthly sights." 
 
 I said nothing, but an uneasy, almost disturbing 
 feeling came to me which I could not at the time 
 analyse. I knew that something significant, domin- 
 ant, had come into the beautiful sensations of the 
 new life of the lady of Deerpark. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 I THINK I was a rather dull-minded man, lack- 
 ing in perception, and in consequence regarded 
 Miss Heffernan's altered life in too impersonal a 
 way. I did not comprehend that if Miss Heffernan 
 was changed in my eyes that so everybody else was 
 readjusted to her new outlook. The old relations, 
 the former standards of regard, had been put by. 
 They were no more than the damp fogs which used 
 to hang about the neglected passages of Deerpark. 
 Gradually a perception of these things sank even 
 through my thick sensibility. Miss Heffernan had 
 such of that old-world way with her, combined with 
 her new zest in life, that it was impossible for me to 
 remain much longer in ignorance of what had come 
 to pass. 
 
 The truth was, that a secret passion had sprung 
 from old roots and burst into blossom in the general 
 metamorphosis of Deerpark. It came to me as a 
 great shock that I should be the object of this 
 tender and peculiar passion. For it was peculiar, 
 partaking of that startling openness which belonged 
 to the love habits of the past. Miss Heffernan 
 4 49 
 
50 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 acquired a number of airs and graces, little sinuous 
 movements of the body, restless passes of the 
 hands, peculiar short laughs when there was really 
 nothing to laugh at, swift sly glances, a habit of 
 regarding me from remote angles of the room from 
 under drooping lashes, pretences at bashfulness, 
 tricks of retirement that were an incitement to 
 investigation, coy attentions to my least behest, a 
 significance attached to my most casual doing — all 
 of which proceedings only slowly dawned on me as 
 the wooing manners of ladies who practised that 
 art in a departed age. The finest thing I can say 
 for Miss Heffernan is that she carried these rather 
 simpering airs without allowing a touch of modernity 
 to vulgarize them. In all her gestures, in the tones 
 of her voice, in her comings and goings, in the 
 splendid parades about Deerpark in gloriously rich 
 raiment, in the extraordinary manipulation of fans 
 — which she gave a language of their own — in 
 all these doings she was still in possession of that 
 authoritative old-world charm which kept her as 
 remote Vs the stars from a thing of burlesque. But 
 for all that her overtures were the more patent, 
 her seductions the more obvious. The women who 
 took their funny little short runs about in crinolines, 
 who were so devotedly conventional in their habits, 
 so restricted in their freedom, so narrow in their 
 environment, were, I am sure, the most wonderful 
 and enterprising pursuers of the male which the 
 world has ever known. 
 
 Take my word for it, the old-fashioned woman, 
 the house mouse, is the woman who will always 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 51 
 
 most eagerly go out after her man and stop at 
 nothing to bring him to book. 
 
 Miss Heffernan did not wear crinolines, though I 
 should have received no shock if some day she 
 emerged from her room in hoops. She leaned more 
 to the age of the flounces, long trains swept behind 
 her when she dressed for dinner, and I don't think 
 any peacock who ever strutted across her lawn was 
 more proud of his tail than Miss Heffernan was of 
 the trains which made the evenings in Deerpark 
 so impressive. But although she affected flounces 
 and trains she was nearer to the crinoline tradition 
 in other respects, as I had very good reason to know. 
 
 I was greatly distressed. Since Miss Heffernan 
 had come into her fortune I had been building up 
 my own prospects, for my income had naturally 
 increased with the revival of the estate and the 
 resumption of other activities on the property, 
 long lapsed. I had re-opened the fairly extensive 
 green marble quarries, the limestone quarries, con- 
 siderable sandpits ; I had on hands the sale of some 
 woods and a new plan of afforestation, and Miss 
 Heffernan herself was very much interested in a 
 scheme of cottage building and an experimental 
 mixed farm. The management of these things was 
 exclusively in my hands, and though naturally of 
 an indolent disposition, the stimulus to make them a 
 success and to get my own personal home in shape 
 made me efficient in my supervision. 
 
 In the midst of all these interests, and in spite of 
 the developments in the interior of Deerpark, I 
 found opportunities for going up and down to Kil- 
 
52 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 beg, and these comings and goings were inspired by 
 all the ardour which belongs to a certain condition. 
 The truth is, of course, that the string of daisies 
 which Betty Carolan had woven that day upon the 
 little green mound had bound me as securely as if 
 it had been forged of tempered steel. Perhaps if I 
 had not heard her voice over the hedge that day, if 
 her little dark passionate personality had not been 
 so enchantingly fresh, if I had not seen under the 
 fluttering lashes the heart's desire, perhaps — who 
 knows ! — I may not alone have responded to the 
 tenderly daring overtures of Miss Heffernan, but 
 gone out to meet them with proper old-time ardour. 
 If anybody was entitled to share with her the fruits 
 of the altered fortune of the family, if anybody had 
 the right to assume the overlordship of the Deerpark 
 estate and property, if anybody had the good luck 
 to crown the happiness of a splendid woman, I was 
 surely that man. 
 
 But it is idle to speculate upon such questions. I 
 was in the hands of other gods : they held out to me 
 that which is above all riches and all praise, that 
 which is greater than any dower of wealth ; they 
 came to me, tripping to the tune of eternal music, 
 bearing the goblet that can only be raised by the 
 power of the hand of Youth ; into my lips had 
 flowed the nectar that is only exquisite in the noon- 
 tide of life, and having drunk I could only look out 
 with the eternal look which speaks of conquest and 
 keeps the fire burning in the veins of the generations 
 of men. 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 53 
 
 11 
 
 Whatever doubts lingered in my mind as to the 
 condition of Miss Heffernan were finally dispelled 
 by an interview which Mrs. Briscoe imposed upon 
 me one day that I reached Deerpark. Mrs. Briscoe 
 met me in the entrance-hall. 
 
 She said, " Mr. Jennings, I have a favour to ask 
 you." 
 
 " Name it," I replied. 
 
 " I want you to help me in the education of a 
 niece of mine, for I know you will soon be the 
 master of Deerpark." 
 
 *' Who told you that I will soon be master of Deer- 
 park ? " I asked, amazed. 
 
 Mrs. Briscoe clasped her hands in front of her 
 and spoke with quiet courage. " Well," she said, " I 
 have seen it coming a long time." 
 
 '■ Indeed ? " I queried. Briscoe had evidently a 
 keener intuition than I could lay claim to. 
 
 " Then," she added, " Miss Heffernan spoke to 
 me herself last night." 
 
 " Spoke to you ? " I was still more amazed. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Jennings. She has been in the habit of 
 speaking to me of her private affairs all her life." 
 Briscoe at once assumed a new importance in my 
 sight. She was the confidante of her mistress. I 
 glanced around the hall, for I had an impression that 
 a maid was hanging about, her ears cocked. I 
 motioned Mrs. Briscoe into the breakfast- room, which 
 was fortunately deserted, and there we sat down. 
 
54 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 I had an impression that Briscoe was enjoying the 
 situation with an appalling feminine enjoyment. 
 
 " What did I understand you to say just now ? " 
 I asked, endeavouring to hide my anxiety. 
 
 Briscoe was quite sure of her ground. " Last 
 night when I was preparing for bed," she related, 
 '" the mistress came to my room. She was in her 
 pink dressing-gown, sir, and if you'll excuse me say- 
 ing so, I was about taking the pins out of my hair. 
 I knew she was kind of heightened in the mind. 
 Well, pink don't suit Miss Mary and I'll always stick 
 to that if I was to go on the gallows for it. The pink 
 dressing-gown ' ' 
 
 " Cut it out, Mrs. Briscoe, cut it out," I cried, 
 rocking one leg on the other. 
 
 Mrs. Briscoe's serenity was undisturbed. " It 
 takes a complexion to live against a pink dressing- 
 gown," she continued, " and Miss Heffernan didn't 
 have no complexion last night, so she looked just 
 woeful. After some time, sir, your name was 
 drawn down, if you'll excuse me saying so. Myself I 
 don't like drawing down names, but we can't help 
 other people nohow." 
 
 I groaned in spirit. Mrs. Briscoe used to speak 
 like a peasant in the old days, now she had fused 
 into her speech a garbled version of some of the 
 special idioms of an English footman. 
 
 I looked at my watch. " Any hope of us getting 
 on between this and bed- time ? " I asked. 
 
 " I don't think, Mr. Jennings," said Briscoe with 
 a resentment that was grandly placid, " that there 
 is occasion to check me over the hours I keep." 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 55 
 
 I hurriedly put the watch back in my pocket. 
 
 " I hope I am a respectable widow woman," 
 added Briscoe, " and that Briscoe has not found out 
 anything about me since he died that he did not 
 know before the horse kicked him in the stomach 
 and inflammation did the rest." 
 
 I bowed my head. Briscoe was enjoying herself, 
 while I " 
 
 " With regards to Miss Heffernan," said Briscoe, 
 " she did not hide any of her feelings, and feelings is 
 a thing I always respect. ' Paul is very proud,' 
 says she " 
 
 " Paul ? " I queried. 
 
 " That is what she called you, sir, if you'll excuse 
 me saying so. I won't wrong no person nohow. 
 ' Paul is very proud,' says she. ' For years,' she 
 says, ' he stood by me in great devotion, and thought 
 I did not understand the reasons of his steadfastness. 
 But I knew all along,' she says, ' that he was sin- 
 cerely attached to me.' Them were her words, for 
 I would belie no person. You should see the way 
 she looked, and I am sure her feelings were something 
 dreadful." 
 
 My heart sank as I listened to Briscoe ; I had not 
 even the life in me to forbid any further disclosures. 
 I sat at her mercy, my mind morbidly and fatally 
 curious to hear more. 
 
 " She walked up and down," continued Briscoe, 
 " her red slippers shooting out under the gown. 
 ' Owing to the circumstances of the estate/ says she, 
 ' Paul could not speak. He was,' she says, ' too 
 chivalrous to take advantage of my impecuniosity. 
 
56 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 Now/ says she, ' he is too proud to speak because 
 of my prosperity. He suffers in silence/ says she, 
 ' like all noble souls/ Them were her sayings just 
 the same as if you were to write them down in a 
 book." 
 
 Briscoe looked at me with what I am sure was 
 an abnormal satisfaction. I tried to look what I 
 was farthest from feeling. When my mind cleared 
 I intimated to Briscoe that I was thankful for her 
 information and that our pleasant little interview 
 was at an end. Briscoe did not stir. 
 
 " Miss Heffernan said something more," she 
 added conscientiously. " She said, ' I cannot allow 
 this false pride to stand between us longer. If Paul 
 does not speak/ she says, ' I shall certainly speak 
 myself/ That was what she said, and she in her pink 
 dressing-gown and myself with the hairpins in my 
 mouth. She tossed her head, Mr. Jennings, her 
 steps high and her eyes on fire, just like one of them 
 fine ladies in the old story books. So I thought you 
 would like to know." 
 
 Briscoe at this time was fairly well on in life, God 
 forgive her, and as sound as a bell. I intimated 
 again that the interview was over. She rose and 
 walked grandly to the door, where she turned round 
 and remarked, " I think you're expected this after- 
 noon, sir." The door closed and I was left sitting 
 there alone, twelve stone of limp material. 
 
 I stood up suddenly, made an impatient gesture, 
 walked up and down the room, a feeling of nervous 
 anger seizing me. I was able to think again, and 
 the position was all too clear and too humiliating to 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 57 
 
 me. I realized that if Miss Heffernan wanted me 
 and discovered that my affections were placed else- 
 where my position would, indeed, be an embarrass- 
 ing one. I saw that it might become so embarrass- 
 ing that I should feel it incumbent to surrender my 
 agency and management of the Deerpark estate. 
 That meant a great deal to me. It meant a top- 
 pling down of my own personal ambitions, a cutting 
 adrift from interests which were very near to me, 
 a break in the traditional connexion of my family 
 with the property, and it meant something very 
 deep and not altogether selfish, for I had not spent 
 so many days in that house and been through so 
 much unusual emotion with Miss Heffernan without 
 feeling something that I could not analyse and 
 that even now I cannot label. And yet the position 
 of affairs seemed quite hopeless — Mrs. Briscoe's 
 crude disclosure revealed to me how hopeless it was. 
 As I dwelt upon the position, and as I saw its im- 
 possibilities from so many standpoints, a growing 
 resentment against myself took possession of me. 
 I blamed the whole proceedings of my life, told my- 
 self I had allowed things to drift into the present 
 hopeless impasse by , a criminal moral slackness, 
 cursed my luck and cursed myself. I was giving 
 way to a futile inward rage when suddenly I stopped 
 dead. A sound had vibrated through Deerpark. 
 
 in 
 
 I wondered if I had been mistaken ? I listened 
 intently, distracted from my own heated and not 
 
58 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 very profitable thoughts. Presently the same vibrat- 
 ing sound, but more unmistakably, filled the house. 
 The chords of a harp had been struck. I went to 
 the door, turned the handle softly, opened it, and 
 listened. The hands which touched the strings 
 were not casual hands ; the notes were perfectly 
 controlled, and the player ventured on a melody. 
 It was played a little uncertainly, but to my ears it 
 sounded beautiful, something very personal in the 
 touch, the notes sounding as if they were wrapped 
 up in lavender. The music came from above, and 
 then I remembered that the playing of the harp had 
 been kept up like other great traditions in the Heffer- 
 nan family ; they were, no doubt, descended from 
 the line of Jubal, '' father of all such as handle the 
 harp." Back to my mind, too, jumped the picture 
 of the weird room of the old days and the harp 
 wrapped in the faded calico. Like so many other 
 things in that room it had seemed to me to "express 
 something of the tragedy of Deerpark. Now it 
 was responding to the touch of Miss Heffernan's 
 hands, filling the house with melody, proclaiming 
 the new life and — God help me ! — conveying some 
 message of a passion that was struggling for self- 
 expression. I listened, fascinated, moved, almost 
 quivering, until the melody had died faintly away, 
 the house strangely silent after the effort. The last 
 notes seemed to flutter down the corridors like 
 little lost souls, to murmur as they passed through 
 the rooms and to sigh as they escaped through the 
 open windows, swooning in the foliage of the wis- 
 taria on the walls outside. 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 59 
 
 Turning back to the breakfast-room my eyes 
 strayed to the portraits of numerous Heffernans 
 hanging on the walls — haughty-looking people with 
 the long features, the tranquil eyes, the slightly 
 hooked nose of their kind, their yellow hair hanging 
 in ringlets from their head, and they all appeared to 
 have listened in approval to the performance of the 
 child of Jubal. I sat down to consider the new 
 situation, alone with all these silent spectators, and 
 I had scarcely done so when the harp broke forth 
 again, this time to the strains of an old-time polka. 
 It was not in the least like any of the hurried, incon- 
 sequent polkas that I had ever heard. It had a lilt 
 that was new to me and gave the polka a quality 
 which any modern attempts I had heard lacked ; 
 it was danceable in an ogling, quaintly humorous 
 degree. So powerfully did I feel the effects of the 
 music that it seemed to me all the Heffernans, men 
 and women, stepped down from their pictures on 
 the walls and danced about the room. . . . There 
 they were, stout gentlemen in their powdered wigs, 
 their green or red silk coats, white silk knee-breeches, 
 shoes with silver buckles, going round and round in 
 the lilting polka, making little springs now and 
 again as if the spirit of levity was moving their staid 
 souls, all attention to the tall dames in the bright 
 dresses, their long earrings shaking about their ears, 
 beauty spots on their cheeks, diamonds flashing on 
 their necks, fans half hiding their coquetting faces. 
 A young pair dashed down the full length of the 
 room, unconscious and uncaring for the couples 
 they elbowed out of their steps, and as they came 
 
60 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 along they showed their white teeth, their brilliant 
 eyes, their bodies swinging together, kicking their 
 heels in sheer delight, a pair of lovers taking life at 
 the noon- tide. A group of onlookers stood at the 
 end of the room, critical spectators of the dance, 
 helping themselves now and again to pinches of 
 snuff from silver boxes, dusting the snuff from their 
 ruffles with lace handkerchiefs which they carried 
 in their sleeves. The polka stopped suddenly, but 
 was followed immediately by a minuet, when another 
 set of dancers, more stately than the last, took the 
 floor, several old bucks putting out their legs, en- 
 cased in silk hose, with a pride which plainly said, 
 " There's a limb for you ! Observe the sinewy 
 thigh narrow down to the knee-cap, mark the breed 
 of the knee itself, note the gradual beautiful line of 
 the expanding calf, the slope to the ankle, the neat 
 rise of the instep, the slenderness of the foot to the 
 tapering toes. Just dwell on the symmetry of the 
 whole creation as I take this step forward, my chest 
 expanded, my head erect, my right arm horizontal, 
 my lips firm, my lashes drooping on my eyes, the line 
 of my waist well marked over the rigid hips. Have 
 you, sirrah, ever seen a buck the equal of me before ? 
 Do you dance the minuet ? Zounds, come along, 
 then ! My steps are as light as the kiss on a grand- 
 mother's cheek ! " And the man who said most of 
 this was stout, burdened with a paunch, and puffed 
 as he went through the regulation movements of 
 the minuet. And the ladies to whom the bucks paid 
 deference, for whose benefit all the beauty of limb 
 and leg was displayed, were themselves burdened 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 61 
 
 with an antique style, their hair done up on the 
 extreme crown of their heads, wearing bustles, 
 making elaborate curtsies to their partners, going 
 back on their haunches so gracefully but dangerously 
 that to my eyes they appeared to sit down on their 
 bustles on the floor. This seemed to me so droll 
 that I laughed harshly, and immediately the room 
 cleared. . . . There was nothing to be seen except 
 the furniture and the thin streaks of the evening 
 light falling about the place, the Heffernans in their 
 frames on the walls looking as if they had never 
 played a prank in their lives. 
 
 I shook myself together, my mind going back to 
 the letters I had come to write. I regretted now I 
 had not gone to the library at once and disposed of 
 them while Miss Heffernan was wooing the harp 
 in her boudoir. It was not yet too late, and as soon 
 as the harp began again — this time it was an Irish 
 war march played with unexpected spirit and with 
 a surer touch than I had yet heard — I left the break- 
 fast-room, crossed the hall, entered the interior of 
 the house and ascended the staircase, resolving to 
 get through my correspondence and clear out of the 
 place before Miss Heffernan could be aware of my 
 presence. As I mounted the stairs softly and swiftly 
 Mrs. Briscoe's words, " I think you're expected this 
 evening, sir," drummed in my ears. I felt like a 
 criminal, a burglar, stealing through the house, my 
 mind intent on getting through a little business 
 and then clearing out before anybody could know 
 anything about it. At the landing on the second 
 flight of steps was a corridor with doors right and 
 
62 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 left leading into different apartments. The second 
 door to the right was the library ; the second last 
 door on the left was Miss Heffernan's boudoir and I 
 had fixed upon this place as the certain one for her 
 evening's performance. The harp was much richer 
 in tone now that I was nearer it and as I stole down 
 the corridor, straight in the centre of the carpet, I 
 had a most uncomfortable feeling that the war 
 march was timing and mocking my movements. 
 ■ I breathed a little more freely as I reached the 
 library door, turned the handle, and almost sprang 
 into the room, closing the door sharply behind me. 
 I had scarcely done so when I was aware that the 
 volume of the sound filled the room. I stood stork 
 still. 
 
 i The library was dim in the evening light. Some 
 of the blinds on the large west window were drawn. 
 But a straight shaft of light fell on the harp and on 
 the long figure which bent over it, a little jewellery 
 flashing on the fingers which caressed strings burn- 
 ished like gold in the straight shaft of light. 
 
 The lady of Deerpark had chosen the library for 
 her musical recital. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 i 
 
 THE shock of finding Miss Heffernan per- 
 forming on the harp in the library was so 
 great that it steadied my nerves, gave me 
 some degree of self-possession. She quieted the 
 strings and rose as I stood immediately inside the 
 door. I bowed, apologized for my intrusion. She 
 smiled, dismissing the apology with a little shrug 
 of the shoulders, moved away from the shaft of 
 light, a long train trailing after her, a filmy wrap 
 on her shoulders fluttering as she moved. I could 
 see at a glance that there were changes in the 
 library. One or two seats had been added to the 
 furniture, and in an alcove beside the west window 
 was a lounge almost hidden behind some evergreens. 
 Tall palms and enormous aspidestras stood about 
 like sombre sentinels ; by the window there was 
 an elaborate flower-stand banked with hot-house 
 plants in gorgeous bloom. The perfume of azaleas 
 was in the air. 
 
 ' The feast is spread for the sacrifice," I thought 
 a little grimly. I took a bundle of keys from my 
 pocket and walked down to the desk which was not 
 
 63 
 
64 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 very far from the west window and the embankment 
 of flowers. I sought that desk as my sheet-anchor 
 in this hour of danger. I rattled my keys and, 
 unlocking the desk, shot up the cover. I sat down 
 at once and began to arrange my papers, my air 
 one of decided business. I took the correspondence 
 which had to be disposed of first and laid it to one 
 side. I frowned over these letters ; I selected a 
 pen with deliberate care ; I squared my shoulders. 
 I felt, rather than saw, that Miss Heffernan had 
 moved along by the book-shelves on the other side 
 of the room. I could hear her take some volumes 
 from the shelves, open them, close them, put them 
 back again. I was conscious that she was very 
 observant and interested in my movements at the 
 desk. I put on the manner of a man in something 
 of a temper. I stood up and shot up one of the 
 blinds on the window, returning to the desk with 
 a preoccupied air. I began a letter to a firm of 
 agricultural fertilizing manufacturers. 
 
 " All business this afternoon," Miss Heffernan 
 said across the room. I knew she was regarding 
 me from out of half-drooped lids. There was a 
 faintly bantering note in her voice. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," I replied, dipping the pen in the 
 ink-bottle. I wrote some formal words. She 
 crossed the room slowly : I heard the swish of her 
 train ; her shadow fell across the desk ; I got the 
 scent of roses ; I could feel that she hovered over 
 me ; my hand shook on the paper, and this weakness 
 annoyed me. I spelt guano with two " n's." 
 
 After some hesitation Miss Heffernan sat down 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 65 
 
 on a chair beside the desk. There was nothing 
 unusual in this, for we had often had talks in much 
 the same position. But her presence under the 
 new dispositions seemed an invasion of the business 
 corner of the room which I was preserving against 
 the more romantic atmosphere which she had been 
 creating in the library. I began to complain, in a 
 testy tone, of certain affairs on the property, declar- 
 ing with some truth that things were not going to 
 my liking. All my words were hard on the bone of 
 business. 
 
 Miss Heffernan sat very still, regarded me quietly. 
 As I lodged my complaints I had a swift survey of 
 her. She was in evening dress, splendidly and 
 carefully attired, in colours quieter than usual but 
 bright brown and gold. A cluster of deep yellow 
 roses lay on her bosom. Her hands clasped a 
 little lambskin-bound volume on her lap. She 
 sat straight but restfully in her chair ; she 
 had dropped the coquetting air for a calm, 
 straight, direct method. She had her hair smoothed 
 down over her temples, it made a loop on 
 her ears, the loose knot behind low down on the 
 nape of the neck. The pallor of her face was 
 relieved by a faint touch of colour, the only touch 
 of colour I had ever seen there. She wore large 
 long earrings of unbeaten gold. The filmy trans- 
 parent wrap on her shoulders was very characteristic, 
 brighter than the gown in colour, but very much in 
 harmony with it. 
 
 Whatever vague undeveloped idea I had at the 
 back of my head of anticipating Miss Heffernan, 
 5 
 
66 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 by making an announcement of my relations with 
 Betty Carolan, died without a struggle as I gazed 
 on her. 
 
 It may be that I have some moral defect in my 
 nature, but I would do anything, suffer mental 
 torture, involve myself in all kinds of hopeless 
 misunderstandings, go from one blunder to another, 
 utter lie after lie with a sinking heart, sooner than 
 make a blunt statement of fact when I know that 
 that statement of blunt fact would be as a dagger 
 aimed at a sensitive nature like that of Miss Mary 
 Heffernan's. No use in my reasoning that a frank 
 avowal would be the manly, the proper, the impera- 
 tive course. You might as well ask me to flourish 
 a shillelagh over Miss Heffernan's head. I had 
 just moral stamina enough to go on talking about 
 affairs on the estate in the hope that I might stave 
 off the romance which threatened. And as I went 
 on talking crude business I could not help thinking 
 how more than ever Miss Heffernan reminded me 
 of the portraits in the medallions. There was an 
 extraordinary calmness in her demeanour, a calm- 
 ness that could only come out of an environment 
 which 'certainly did not belong to our day. The 
 charm and the grace of this personality was dis- 
 turbing, almost overpowering. 
 
 To this day I do not know how I raked up all 
 the complaints about the enterprises on the property. 
 I was inspired with a glibness which astonished 
 even myself. I gathered some hope, as I paced 
 along, that the cumulative effect of all the wrong- 
 doing would temporarily frighten more tender 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 67 
 
 thoughts away from her. What a child of life I 
 was ! I noticed that Miss Heffernan's face took 
 on a slow expression of kindly humour, a tolerant 
 smile playing about the lips. Suddenly she broke 
 in upon my glibly serious chatter. 
 
 " Dear boy," she said. 
 
 The words dammed up my flow of speech. I 
 frowned. 
 
 " How angry you are ! " she cried. I knew 
 then that no matter what I did or what I said I 
 would appear wonderful to the sight of Miss Heffer- 
 nan. I was translated into a male glory, a god 
 whose sanctuary this splendid female creature was 
 privileged to approach. 
 
 " Yes, I am angry," I said, clinging to the prosaic 
 world I felt slipping from me. I rocked myself a 
 little on the revolving chair ; I looked exceedingly 
 grim and determined, an angry and a jealous deity. 
 I emphasized the prophecy that the green marble 
 quarries would be dragged down to an ignominious 
 failure. 
 
 " Does it matter so much that Kavanagh is 
 drinking ? " she asked archly, the tolerant smile 
 playing about her mouth. 
 
 '* Yes, it does," I insisted. " He's foreman there 
 and responsible for the whole backwardness of the 
 works, not to speak of the bad example he is giving. 
 I won*: have it from Kavanagh." 
 
 " Dear boy," she murmured again. I was 
 splendid in my rage ! 
 
68 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 ii 
 
 I went on more desperately than ever with my 
 interminable complaints. ... A valuable mowing 
 machine had been wrecked only the evening before, 
 spiked, I believed, in a meadow. Was that to be 
 tolerated ? I put the question sternly to Miss 
 Heffernan and waited for a reply. There was no 
 reply ; only the cluster of roses palpitated on her 
 white bosom. . . . Did she hear about the brood mare 
 and the foal ? No ! A fowling-piece was care- 
 lessly discharged near them by a workman. Result : 
 the foal bounded blindly across a field and tumbled 
 into a quarry, thirty-five feet of a drop. It was 
 dead there now. Was I to stand that ? Miss 
 Heffernan' s eyes met my glare with her mysterious 
 smile. ... I tapped significantly the letters before 
 me on the desk. What were they about ? Miss 
 Heffernan shook her head in a slow negative ; the 
 earrings swung about her cheeks, looking like great 
 golden fuchsia drops. Well, these letters were all 
 bitter complaints, every one of them ! I was on 
 the verge of a big law suit with the contractor who 
 had restored Deerpark, for his " extras " were a 
 patent swindle. And who could tell how an 
 action of the kind would turn out ? Miss Heffernan 
 sighed, but not in sorrow for the uncertainty of the 
 law. . . . There was another letter, from a monu- 
 mental sculptor who was sick waiting for his slabs of 
 limestone, ordered God only knew how long ago. 
 Was it fair to the man ? Again I held Miss Heffer- 
 nan in a- stern demand. But her fingers only 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 69 
 
 fondled the little volume of verse she held in her 
 lap. . . . 
 
 " What does it all matter ? " she asked quietly, 
 then bent over the roses to scent their perfume. 
 
 I gave it up. No disaster upon the Deerpark 
 property appeared to - shake Miss Heffernan. I 
 moved the correspondence about on my desk and 
 said, " I suppose if one becomes really philosophical 
 nothing that happens on this earth matters a pin." 
 
 Miss Heffernan shook her head. " I did not say 
 that," she corrected. 
 
 " Then what matters ? " I asked, but not without 
 some misgiving. 
 
 She leaned a little forward, the cluster of roses 
 drooping. " We matter," she said, her voice 
 vibrant. " You and I — we two — we matter a 
 great deal — nothing else on earth matters." 
 
 I could feel that a sudden hot rash burned redly 
 across my forehead ; I had no hope that Miss 
 Heffernan would take it as a danger signal. She 
 was entirely absorbed in her own emotion. And 
 as I said nothing at all she went on, speaking 
 rapidly, " What does it matter whether slabs of 
 stone are blasted out of the earth or not ? Who 
 cares that a foolish animal has met with a stupid 
 accident in the fields ? What significance has 
 Kavanagh's drunkenness to anybody except the 
 girl who accepts his kisses ? Is the loss of money 
 to monumental sculptors anything to us ? . . . 
 What does anything in the world, in heaven or on 
 earth, now or in eternity, matter to me except " 
 
 Miss Heffernan was almost overcome by her 
 
jo THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 emotion. I could not conceive that she could be 
 so swept away by her own words. She rose, as if 
 the outbreak was more than she could endure. I 
 was again conscious of her shadow falling across 
 the desk, of the nearness of her being, of the tumult 
 that swept all her calmness away, and I was con- 
 scious too, that she waited. I made no move, 
 spoke no word, only foolishly re-shuffled some 
 envelopes on the desk. She moved away with an 
 almost angry decision, striding to the fireplace, 
 her long train swirling in a brilliant backwash over 
 the grey carpet, the filmy wrap on her shoulders 
 marking her course-like a sunbeam. She stood at 
 the mantelpiece, her hands toying idly with some 
 ornament, the long gleam of white flesh between 
 the shoulder-blades like a beacon to my pained and 
 straining eyes. 
 
 in 
 
 My eyes still on the white beacon of her back, I 
 arose slowly, pushed back my chair with a drive 
 of the leg, dropped my pen on the letter to the 
 fertilizing people, and presently found myself 
 walking down the room in Miss Heffernan's wake. 
 If a sentry had challenged me on the road I could 
 have given no account of my movements whatever. 
 I could only tell him that I was going that road. 
 When I actually arrived at the fireplace, I stood 
 beside — or rather behind — Miss Heffernan and still 
 said nothing. The truth was I had nothing to say, 
 not a single word of any kind or description. My 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 71 
 
 own silence made me morose. I was only conscious 
 of the gleaming white shoulder so near to me ; again 
 I felt the influence of her personality, her nearness, 
 her pulsating body. My eyes remained fixed, dully, 
 stupidly, with a brooding fascination, upon the 
 white shoulders. An overpowering temptation to 
 bend over that white flesh and put my lips to it 
 took possession of me. I bent forward, and that 
 grim Signalman who leers in the Box overlooking 
 all our roads pulled one of his mysterious levers and 
 I was switched back to my destiny ; for no sooner 
 had I poised over Miss Heffernan's shoulder than 
 the flimsy sheath of coloured silk fluttered lightly 
 as a thought from her back. It shimmered down 
 the shoulder-blade, along the side of the back, and 
 got arrested on the outline of the hip. My eyes 
 followed it foolishly, and when at length it got 
 arrested I caught it in my hand. There was a 
 moment of stupid indecision. And then I spoke. 
 
 44 Your wrap has fallen, Miss Heffernan," I said. 
 The tones of my voice were as level, my words as 
 commonplace, as anything ever heard over a 
 counter. I held the end of elusive silk quite rever- 
 ently to her, but I must have looked exactly like a 
 draper's assistant — some farmer's son with powerful 
 agricultural hands — holding up a remnant of silk 
 for the inspection of a very chic customer, her 
 eyebrows elevated. 
 
 With a quick gesture she drew the wrap about 
 her body. She moved away ; my eyes followed 
 her course across the room ; her steps were scarcely 
 audible on the carpet ; in the deeper shadows of 
 
72 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 this part of the room she seemed some golden-brown 
 argosy sailing to the dim harbour of the book-shelves. 
 I saw the sparkle of a jewel on one of the fingers 
 which moved about the book covers, seeking aim- 
 lessly for a space into which the small volume might 
 be inserted. A waft of perfume from azaleas 
 touched my senses. I heard a soft pad on the 
 carpet and saw that Miss Heffernan had dropped 
 the volume. There was a momentary hesitation, 
 then she turned to stoop for the book, but I, with 
 my mind less and less conscious of any directing 
 thought, walked quickly across and picked up the 
 book. There was a little murmur of thanks, and 
 Miss Heffernan was not now turned away from me. 
 
 "lam afraid Briscoe is neglectingThe books," I 
 said. 
 
 " In what way ? " 
 
 " They don't seem to have been very well dusted." 
 
 My words were banal again. Miss Heffernan made 
 no reply, and before I had fully realized it she had 
 moved away once more ; she was standing more in 
 the light and beside the evergreens ; some move- 
 ments of the body as her form became outlines 
 against the foliage gave me a moment of uneasiness ; 
 she looked in some distress ; she began to sway, her 
 hand straying to her forehead with a gesture of 
 pain ; I remembered the malady from which she 
 used to suffer in the old days, indeed I remembered 
 suddenly that fainting was a common thing among 
 women in former days, but less and less heard of as 
 the earth cooled. Miss Heffernan swayed, her 
 figure one of great distress ; I sprang forward, and 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 73 
 
 not a moment too soon. I was only in time to 
 catch her tottering form. She swooned into my 
 arms. 
 
 As I stood there, her form limp and passive in my 
 arms, I had not the least idea what I should do. 
 My mind was more a blank than ever. Whatever * 
 thinking I did was chaotic, like the jumbled- up 
 things that parade before one in a disturbing dream. 
 I was only aware of the silent room, the silent 
 house, the fading light, the crunch of rose petals as 
 I clutched Miss Heffernan in my arms. I had a 
 fantastic idea, too, that in my arms I held Deerpark, 
 its estate, its activities, its resources, its tenantry, 
 its splendid old house, its grounds, its stables, its 
 servants, its traditions, and with them British 
 Government securities, American railroads, New 
 Zealand oil wells, Australian Wool Companies, and 
 breweries everywhere breweries paid a dividend. I 
 looked at Miss Heffernan. The light was very 
 indistinct, but I could see that she was quite pale, 
 the little touch of colour having got washed quite 
 away. 
 
 A little happy sigh escaped her, and I was glad 
 to think that already she was reviving. As I stood 
 over her my eyes caught the red tassel of a bell- 
 rope beside the window, and from sheer force of 
 habit of the old days I leaned forward to pull that 
 rope in order that Mrs. Briscoe might be summoned 
 to the aid of her distressed mistress. But I had 
 scarcely put out my hand when I felt Miss Heffernan 
 make some move to prevent me ; her hand groped 
 for my hand and she detained me. I sat her down on 
 
74 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 the lounge, looking at her. She came to gradually, 
 the eyes opening quite suddenly and widely, her 
 fingers closing upon my wrist with a tight, wiry 
 grasp, powerful and convulsive. 
 
 Miss Heffernan looked at me without speaking, 
 and I looked at her without speaking. But slowly 
 it broke upon me that she saw something in my face 
 that I had no intention of expressing ; it was as if 
 I had suddenly become to her as an open book. A 
 look of fear, of misery, of despair, crept over her 
 face. She became ashen grey in colour. Slowly, 
 imperceptibly, her grip on my wrist relaxed. It 
 was as if some swift revelation had come to her, 
 that something yawned between us which no power 
 could bridge. It was the look of a woman who 
 felt herself lost, and as I felt that grip relax the 
 feeling I had was that I gazed upon a drowning 
 woman. She lay back, now shrinking from me, on 
 the end of the couch, her hair deranged, the cluster 
 of roses crushed on her bosom, her eyes full of 
 despair. I stooped forward, egged on by this 
 fearful feeling that before my eyes a human soul, 
 the soul of a woman, was sinking. A little cry 
 broke from me as I put out my hands. But she 
 only shrank back farther. What extraordinary 
 intuition had come to her ? I was blind with 
 emotion, my thoughts whirled, and my whole soul 
 urged me to approach her, to reach out my hands 
 to her, to plunge into whatever abyss might yawn 
 before me. . . . The door was thrown open. . . . 
 The figure of a man strode into the room. Then 
 a voice rang out, a rough, rousing voice which 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 75 
 
 seemed to bring the whole outside world into the 
 heated room. 
 
 " Say, Jennings, where the devil are you ? " 
 cried that voice. 
 
 It was Kish Massy who had come into the room. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 IF by some contortion of history I had been the 
 distressed daughter of the House of Brabant and 
 Kish Massy had been Lohengrin, come to Deer- 
 park in shining armour and on the back of a white 
 swan, his advent could not have been more welcome 
 or psychological. But the Deerpark Lohengrin 
 had no sooner arrived than the necessity of getting 
 him out again, and of transforming him into an 
 unconscious rescuer, became part of the immediate 
 ambition of my life. 
 
 The very bulk of Kish Massy' s figure, the uncer- 
 tainty of his surroundings in the dim light of a 
 strange, large room, the clang of his heavy voice, 
 his sharp reminder to me of a world still existing 
 outside the confined space of the alcove of the 
 Deerpark library, made me abnormally alert. 
 Some movement at the end of the couch was like 
 an urgent appeal from Miss Heffernan to prevent 
 discovery. I moved behind the evergreens with 
 the stealth of a man in a play, then strode casually, 
 almost lazily, to the man blinking near the fireplace. 
 " Hello, Kish/' I said. " When did you get 
 back ? " 
 
 7<* 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 77 
 
 He started, recovered himself, and put out his 
 hand. 
 
 " Hello, Paul," he said. We shook hands, and 
 I could not help importing fervour into my grasp. 
 It encouraged the unconscious Lohengrin and he 
 laid his hands on my shoulders, wheeling his own 
 back to the window to see me more plainly. In 
 this simple movement I accommodated him. 
 
 " You're looking grand, Paul," he said. " I 
 never saw you so good. And I got home last 
 night." 
 
 " We're all very glad to see you," I responded, 
 speaking for an imaginary chorus. 
 
 " Thanks, Paul." He put his hands in his pockets. 
 " Well, if I was not thunderstruck when I heard the 
 news." 
 
 " What news ? " I asked. 
 
 " The news of the great Deerpark recovery. It 
 was like listening to a fairy-tale by the fire." 
 
 " Well, well," I commented — the comment of all 
 mature philosophers. 
 
 " Sure, I thought " 
 
 Now, I was nervous of what Kish Massy might 
 have thought, so I put my hand affectionately 
 through his arm. " We must have a big talk about 
 it all," I said. " Come along with me." He had 
 some idea that I was leading him to a more private 
 den in Deerpark ; we walked, arm-in-arm, out the 
 door. As I turned to close it softly I caught a 
 glimpse of the tall, sombre, flat leaves of a palm 
 over the couch and beside it the bright outline of 
 the now silent harp. 
 
78 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 "I'm walking down your way," I said to Kish 
 Massy when we reached the hall, " so we can have 
 a talk on our way." 
 
 He was disappointed ; but I was agreeable, and 
 we walked down the drive and out on to the public 
 road. My companion puffed a little as we went 
 along, for I was making unintentional little bursts 
 on the road. 
 
 Kish Massy asked me numerous questions. I 
 answered disjointedly, wildly. I laughed like a fool. 
 Kish Massy shot suspicious glances at me, but I did 
 not mind. I was responsive to the freedom of the 
 air, the flutter of leaves on the trees, the light-headed 
 career of some dim clouds across the sky. We 
 shook hands at the by-road leading to his stables, 
 with the assurance that we were to meet soon again. 
 
 II 
 
 Having reached home I at once skirted the gable 
 of the house, made for the stables at the back, 
 saddled a cob, led him out, sprang upon his back 
 and trotted down the road. 
 
 Everybody knows what a stimulating effect a 
 sharp ride on a smart cob has at any time, and 
 already I was more than stimulated. For no 
 sooner had I recovered from the attack of foolish 
 chatter with Kish Massy on the road than my mind 
 swooped back to Betty Carolan. The affair of the 
 evening suddenly presented itself to my excited 
 brain as a fearful wrong to the girl. A thousand 
 sweet memories of her rose up in my mind, passing 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN , 79 
 
 like a procession of accusers before me. I clutched 
 my knees more tightly in the saddle, the vital 
 body of the cob pulsating as we rattled along the 
 road. The sentences joggled in my head to the 
 stepping of the cob on the hard road. ... It was 
 a wrong to Betty, it was a wrong to Betty ! I was 
 a weakling and a scoundrel, a scoundrel and a 
 weakling ! I did not deserve her good grace, her 
 good will. I had been a traitor to her, a traitor ! 
 She would never look at me again ; why should she 
 look at me again ? What would I do if Betty 
 turned from me ? I would, indeed, I would drink 
 myself to death ! I would join Kavanagh, go to 
 the devil with Kavanagh. ... On and on joggled 
 the accusations, the harrowing reiterations. And 
 then suddenly my mind broke off in another 
 direction. . . . What had happened Betty this 
 evening ? Something told me she was in danger. 
 She had been through some fearful ordeal. Maybe 
 her father had turned her out ! Maybe she was 
 gone away, abducted ! Would I ever see her 
 again ? Hadn't I better gallop the rest of the 
 way ? . . . The cob stumbled at the sudden vicious 
 dig of my heels in his ribs, recovered, and broke 
 into a gallop. Some calamity had surely happened 
 to Betty ; the cob seemed to know that a calamity 
 had happened to her. I was sick with fear when I 
 pulled up near the house, glancing apprehensively 
 over the hedge that bordered the road. 
 
 There was not a sound in the place. No light 
 showed in the windows. I jumped down and led 
 the cob to the gate, the little gate with its arch of 
 
80 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 Virginia creeper. Through this arch I saw a 
 movement in an upper window. There was a 
 crackling of leaves as somebody leaned out over 
 the clustering rose trees. I could see the outline 
 of a figure, a figure in a white blouse, the vague 
 movement of an arm, and I stood quite motionless 
 where I was. A faint sigh was wafted down from 
 the window, a little flutter that caressed me as it 
 went by, too subtle to carry the burden of any 
 tangible existence, but powerful with all the magic 
 of a spirit being. And that little fluttering thing 
 had escaped from Betty's lips, even as Angus had 
 commissioned his kisses into the air in the form of 
 white birds ! 
 
 " Betty," I said in a whisper which had as little 
 body and as much magic as the maiden's own sigh. 
 There was a movement among the rose leaves at 
 the window. 
 
 I could see, as she leaned more forward, the 
 outline of the girl's bust, the pose of a dark head 
 above the glimmer of a slender neck. 
 
 " Paul," she whispered back. 
 
 I gazed up at her, still silently, too moved to 
 speak, but in my heart there was an evening hymn, 
 a thanksgiving, and that evening hymn carried 
 its own music, and if it had a voice to speak it would 
 speak of a scented hour when a soft hand falls like 
 dew on the rose leaves ; of the white bust of a 
 young girl in the frame of a dark window ; of the 
 light of young eyes in the aged day ; of a body 
 vibrant in its dawning womanhood ; of the con- 
 fession in the rise and fall of little breasts : of the 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 81 
 
 bright proclamation of a moon risen to a new epic 
 among the stars. It would have cried, " O drunken- 
 ness of Youth, insanity of Love, O splendid 
 tragedy of Life ! " 
 
 " Betty/' I said, " come to me." 
 
 " Why, Paul ? " 
 
 " Why ? My God, ask the wind, the stars, the 
 gravel on the path, the little leaves beside you — 
 ask anything at all. Everything, everybody, 
 knows." 
 
 " Then I must know, too ? " 
 
 " And you know, too — only a great deal more.'* 
 
 Betty made some movement. 
 
 " Where is your father ? " I asked. 
 
 " Gone up to the mill. I am all alone." 
 
 " May I not call on you, then ? " 
 
 " Yes, anybody may call on me. I cannot abolish 
 custom." 
 
 " Come down and let me in at once. I want a 
 cup of tea." 
 
 She disappeared from the window ; a moment 
 later a little vein of laughter sounded in the house. 
 I secured the rein of the cob to one of the pillars 
 of the wooden gate as Betty opened the door and 
 came down the path. 
 
 vShe came in her trim, well-shaped figure, her air 
 of decision, her deliberate movements. The hair 
 made a dark cluster about her head ; her face, as 
 she drew near, was expectant, and the dark brows 
 level over the eyes. I was responsive to all the 
 fresh ardour of her being ; my eyes were upon her 
 with an emotion hungry in its exactions. For the 
 6 
 
82 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 thought swept me that only an hour or two ago 
 something might have happened which would 
 make it impossible for Betty and myself ever to 
 meet like this. I swung open the gate and seized 
 the girl with a violence that frightened her. 
 
 " What is the matter, Paul ? " she asked when 
 she could disentangle herself. She looked up at 
 me in her serious way. 
 
 " Nothing at all matters now," I replied. " Every- 
 thing is right, is good. The whole universe is 
 pleased." 
 
 Betty smiled, her look at the same time critical. 
 " You are " she paused. 
 
 " What am I ? " I insisted. 
 
 She put her hands between the bars of the gate 
 and fondled the nose of the cob. " I won't tell 
 you," she said. " I might tell the cob, though. 
 Is he not a little bit silly, Phil ? What made him 
 gallop you down the road ? " Phil only showed 
 the whites of his eyes. 
 
 " How do you know I galloped down the road ? " 
 
 " Oh, I have ears," said Betty. " I could hear 
 that galloping ever so far off. I thought it was a 
 priest or a doctor hurrying to somebody dying." 
 
 " Are you sure you did not know who it was that 
 galloped and what it was the galloping was for ? " 
 
 Betty wandered into the little lawn and I walked 
 beside her. 
 
 " Well," she confessed, " I thought it might be 
 some such person as yourself." 
 
 She looked up archly at me. I was feeling 
 quite tranquil again, so pleased that I began to 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 83 
 
 whistle. Betty hummed a little with me ; our feet 
 moved more quickly over the grass. I took one or 
 two steps of a fantastic dance. Betty laughed. 
 But I went on whistling. Some of my spirit caught 
 her. She tried some of the steps, too. We went 
 down the little lawn together, at first timidly, then 
 more boldly, letting ourselves go, prancing and 
 humming and laughing. The cob snorted at the 
 gate, some small birds fluttered out of the hedge, 
 alarmed at the sounds of revelry in this haven of 
 quiet. We laughed together at the contempt of 
 the cob, and I saw Betty's shining eyes, the flash 
 of her teeth. I felt her warm pulsing body, the 
 delicate sense of her youth ; the scent of the evening 
 air was about us, we swung round together in a 
 slow rhythmical waltz, and I remembered the young 
 pair who had pranced down the breakfast- room 
 in Deerpark — how many years ago ? With a 
 common motion our bodies swayed together ; for 
 a long minute we might have been in mid-air, in 
 the sky, and that patch of green grass was as the 
 earth and all that it held beneath us. We whirled, 
 and laughed, and kicking our heels danced into the 
 house through the open door, a pair of lovers taking 
 life at the noon-tide. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 NEXT day I did not enter the Heffernan 
 household, nor the day after. I found 
 many things to do about the farm, in the 
 quarries, among the tenantry, and even in the 
 stables. I quarrelled with Kavanagh in the quarries, 
 disputed with tenants about rents, let out at stable 
 boys in the yard. " He's doing the boss before his 
 time," I overheard the coachman say to a workman. 
 When, on the third day, I did enter the house 
 and made my way to the library, I found things 
 had been restored to their old order. The palms 
 and the flowers were gone. So was the harp. I 
 was relieved to note these changes. I settled into 
 my old position at the desk. 
 
 Just as I had concluded checking an account 
 from a firm of calf -cake manufacturers, a light 
 knock sounded on the door ; when I looked up 
 Miss Heffernan was in the room. I rose at once, 
 my tongue wandering aimlessly about the roof of 
 my mouth. 
 
 " I wonder is this interview to terminate my 
 connexion with Deerpark ? " I thought as I put 
 
 84 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 85 
 
 out. my hand. Miss Heffernan moved down the 
 room in her elegant carriage. We shook hands ; 
 as our eyes met, there was a swift and a mutual 
 embarrassment. But this painful self-consciousness 
 was mastered almost at once. It was as if Miss 
 Heffernan had said, " No explanations, and therefore 
 no recriminations. Let us ignore that episode if 
 we cannot forget it . " I was more than ever conscious 
 of her inbred refinement, her self-possession. As to 
 my dismissal : I knew now that it never suggested 
 itself to Miss Heffernan. She had a belief in 
 traditions ; she would as soon think of removing 
 me as she would of pulling down the demesne wall. 
 The Jennings were an institution on the estate. 
 As she seated herself I noticed that she was simply 
 dressed, that she wore no flowers and only one 
 piece of jewellery, a cameo brooch at the throat. 
 
 She had some letters in her hands and turned to 
 them as soon as she had replied to my polite in- 
 quiries as to her health. 
 
 The letters were from her stockbrokers, concern- 
 ing the transfer of certain shares which she was 
 making on the advice of Captain Manning, and 
 while she read them I had an opportunity of a 
 long look at her. She was pallid, lines of suffering 
 were about the mouth, the eyes were heavy and 
 dark. In an inadequate way I realized that this 
 woman had passed through an ordeal which it was 
 a misery to think of. Remorse seized me, knocked 
 at my heart, and never had a more acute sense of 
 the old veneration for Miss Heffernan come to 
 me. I call this feeling for Miss Heffernan " venera- 
 
86 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 tion " because I cannot think of any other word 
 which comes nearer to express it, but it does not 
 express it. Miss Heffernan was an unusually 
 sensitive woman ; that sensitiveness appeared 
 part of the qualities which, in my sight, gave her 
 a place in an age bigger than ours. This very 
 sensitiveness was asserting itself now in her capacity 
 to live down the disillusionment which she had 
 sustained at my hands. If she had been a woman 
 of the modern world, if she had been the " business " 
 woman, she would have had her little weak com- 
 plaints and she would have had the poor emotion 
 of a temper ; they would have expressed themselves 
 in my dismissal. She was, however, the sensitive 
 sort, and therefore the braver sort ; for people of 
 exceptional sensitiveness always stand up more 
 spiritedly, more sanely, more uncomplainingly, to 
 the ordeals of life. It is the thick of hide, the dolts, 
 the braggarts, the cheap little egoists, who make 
 up the whines of their generations. The weakling 
 weaves out of life nothing but a chaplet of com- 
 plaints. The sensitive ones spin fibre for their 
 day, wire the morale of their generation. Miss 
 Heffernan brought out from some storehouse of 
 her nature a sensitiveness that was rare. Whatever 
 may be my own shortcomings — and they are fairly 
 obvious — I claim certain delicacies of feeling that 
 may be called a sensitiveness. They were sufficient 
 to now give me a sympathy and an understanding 
 of Miss Heffernan which might have been beyond 
 a cruder mortal. I was sensitive to the secret 
 misery which Miss Heffernan had now to endure, 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 87 
 
 and which she was schooling herself to endure 
 without a murmur. 
 
 11 
 
 We sat quietly by the fire, discussing the transfer 
 of the shares, all our words as colourless, our be- 
 haviour as neutral, as if we were the heads of some 
 commercial concern in conference, and while we 
 talked there was, in our casual words, in our very 
 carelessness, our assumption of indifference, a 
 tragedy more poignant, more human and more 
 deadly than if that tragedy found expression in 
 hoarse shouts of passion, in acts of crude violence. 
 
 We talked of the transfer of the shares, and then 
 of the tillage scheme, the cottage building, and all 
 the time there was the suffering and the pain, the 
 sense that there was something between us which 
 it was necessary to strangle. Now and again I 
 had a racking feeling that there was a wounded bird 
 struggling silently in the room, behind some piece 
 of furniture, in some corner, and that I dared not 
 move to its succour or even seem conscious that it 
 writhed. And Miss Heffernan sat there and talked 
 about her enterprises while she hid away her gnaw- 
 ing secret. I found it very difficult to recall the 
 recent airiness of her ways, the gay moments of her 
 moods, the vitality of her interests, the immense 
 pride she took in clothing her fine body in bright 
 raiment. She seemed to me now like a woman 
 who sat mourning silently over the grave of her own 
 womanhood. And nobody else would understand 
 
8S THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 this except myself ; I alone of all those around 
 her would see that something intimate, something 
 that was part of her own being, perhaps the best 
 part of her being, had been shattered, that a secret 
 sorrow was not alone sapping her vitalty but eating 
 the very flesh from her bones. And I, the one who 
 understood, who was nearest to her, who was even 
 still nearest to her by reason of that bond which I 
 call veneration, I was the one — O irony of life ! — to 
 have struck the blow. 
 
 I do not honestly think that I could have gone 
 on under such conditions, that I could have con- 
 tinued in my management of the Deerpark property 
 and affairs ; but the currents that wash us to our 
 individual destinies were even then busy, preparing 
 to shift us on to a new chain of events, events which 
 led to something which to this day seems to brood 
 over the very hills. I had risen from my chair in 
 the course of the conversation, my eyes on a bronze 
 figure on the chimney-piece, a study of a nigger 
 boy with half devilish lips. Miss Heffernan was 
 seated directly before the fire, her feet on the fender. 
 There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Briscoe 
 entered. 
 
 " A gentleman to see you downstairs, miss," she 
 announced. 
 
 " Do you know him ? " 
 
 " Yes ; Mr. Kish Massy." 
 
 A pucker gathered on Miss Heffernan's brow. 
 She hesitated. 
 
 " He possibly means to sell you a horse," I said 
 
 " I suppose I had better see him." 
 
MARY HEFFERNAN 89 
 
 " Shall I show him in ? " Briscoe asked. Her 
 tone was that of one who hoped she would have 
 the honour of showing him out. 
 
 Miss Heffernan considered for a moment. A 
 hard line gathered at the corners of her mouth. 
 " No," she said, rising. " I shall see him in the 
 hall." 
 
 She followed Briscoe from the room. 
 
 " Kish Massy is evidently not in favour," I 
 thought. " I don't think he is likely to sell her a 
 horse." 
 
 Some moments later Kish Massy's chest-deep 
 laugh boomed downstairs. My eyes came with 
 something of a snap from the figure of the nigger 
 boy with the half-devilish lips. 
 
 And from that moment Kish Massy came stalking 
 into our lives in all his vulgar humanity. 
 
PART II 
 KISH MASSY 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 KISH MASSY turned the scales at something 
 like sixteen stone. In his early days he 
 made himself known as a skilful thrower of 
 bowls on the roads, a game not yet quite abandoned 
 in rural Ireland, possibly because it is illegal. His 
 passion for climbing into trees, mounting telegraph 
 poles, scaling high walls, was so real that it refused 
 to die with his boyhood. Even the coming of the 
 sixteen stone — gradual and insidious — did not quench 
 the spirit of the squirrel in him. In the full tide 
 of his manhood he won a championship as a thrower 
 of the hammer and the fifty-six pounds weight. 
 I have heard people describe him as a repulsive- 
 looking man ; this illusion arose from the heavy 
 black look which passed like a cloud across his face 
 when angry or suffering from the after-effects of 
 drink. His face was large, the mouth unpleasant. 
 His firm chin was handsomely dimpled, the habit 
 of shaving indifferently leaving in the dip of the 
 dimple a suggestion of scrub in a hollow. The 
 head was long, had a back to it, was expressive of 
 capacity, even power, the hair passing from a wiry 
 pig black to a tough steel-grey. The eyes were 
 
 91 
 
92 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 hazel-brown, oblong, tilting somewhat at the ends, 
 a little like and yet quite unlike the Japanese eye. 
 They expressed slow, sly humour and intelligence. 
 Above the eyebrows two lines twitched rapidly in 
 moments of excitement or anger, disappearing 
 altogether when the mood was tranquil. These 
 tricky lines, obviously connected directly with the 
 brain, were hitched upward at the ends in harmony 
 with the make of the eyes. The nose was large, 
 irregular, mottled, the nose of a campaigner, the 
 lobes of the nostrils round and flexible, Kish Massy's 
 habit of half squeezing and half stroking them 
 during spells of reflection giving them a ruby 
 complexion. Now and again he had a curious way 
 of holding his hands palm upwards, the fingers 
 twitching as if they had an instinct for possible 
 gifts, grasping unseen things in the air. 
 
 All his movements expressed energy. He swung 
 his thick legs as if they belonged to the golden age 
 of his youth. Under the wide chest he carried with 
 remarkable ease a considerable paunch. His arms 
 were inclined to swing out in front of him when he 
 walked, the elbows elevated and active, very like a 
 man breasting the water when wading into the sea 
 for a dip. This habit gave him a rather odd appear- 
 ance. When people saw him for the first time they 
 thought, " There goes a man who will trample upon 
 anybody who stands in his way." 
 
 The Kish Massy stables were pitched almost 
 midway between my mother's house and Deerpark ; 
 they were extensive and famous. Kish Massy was, 
 I believe, one of the best-known breeders of horses 
 
KISH MASSY 93 
 
 in Ireland. His fame and his name alike came to 
 him through the exploits of one of his horses. 
 While yet Peter Massy he was riding a colt down 
 the road and chanced to meet an old man noted for 
 his incurable pessimism. 
 
 " What do you say of this colt, Patch ? " asked 
 Massy, showing off the points of the animal. " Should 
 he do well on the course ? " 
 
 " Devil a fear of him doing well on the course," 
 said Patch. " He's only fit to draw a kish of turf 
 from the bog." 
 
 " Very well," said Massy, " I'll call him Kish." 
 
 And as Kish that horse subsequently won a 
 series of sensational races all over Ireland and 
 England. Now kish is a Gaelic word, meaning 
 basket, and locally applied to the baskets straddled 
 on the back of a donkey, a mode of transit still in 
 favour in the hills. Therein lay the sarcasm of the 
 old pessimist. There was so much loose writing 
 in the papers about the exploits of Kish and the 
 breeder of Kish that somebody, in a moment of 
 confusion, made reference to Mr. Kish Massy. Not 
 in the least offended Massy adopted the name ; it 
 found favour with everybody. " There's nothing," 
 he said, ■* like handing out a name to the world 
 that nobody else is likely to claim. I'm Kish 
 Massy." Saying which he made a curiously active 
 bow, his left arm what the pugilists call " jabbing." 
 
 I often heard conversations touching the astound- 
 ing sums of money Kish Massy made one way or 
 another. There were stories of his speculations 
 and the equally astonishing sums of money he lost 
 
94 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 upon them. He was spoken of in terms of a gamb- 
 ler, a " plunger," but as far as I am concerned I 
 never had acquaintance with any man who had 
 such a passion for making and holding money. 
 He affected to me an impatience with the great 
 profits on his stables and his stud, but I put this 
 down to the weakness of men of his kind for inces-' 
 sant boasting. 
 
 Unsavoury stories floated about the country 
 concerning him from time to time. He rather 
 enjoyed a quarrel. I was present when the Master 
 of the County Hounds attacked him openly at a 
 meet, charging him with the doping of a horse. 
 Kish Massy, his fists aloft, his oblong eyes aflame, 
 his chest and stomach heaving in a passionate 
 duet, raised himself in his saddle and met his 
 accuser with great spirit. There was a volley of 
 gingered words, some appalling threats, and both 
 gentlemen charged their mounts at each other. 
 Several members of the Hunt backed their hunters 
 into the spot, to keep the combatants apart, a 
 group of indignant horses clung together on the 
 road, some awkward manoeuvring was carried out 
 to the accompaniment of angry voices, the shuffling 
 of hooves, a few unintelligent and undamaging 
 cuts of the crops were exchanged, the horses detached 
 themselves, and the Master's wife was heard to say, 
 " Gerald, dear, this will never do ; your stock's got 
 quite crumpled. Come here until I fix you up. ' ' 
 
 What the papers called a cause celebre ensued in 
 the courts, out of which Kish Massy came worsted. 
 But Massy did not in the least mind incidents like 
 
KISH MASSY 95 
 
 this. The human material which he valued clung 
 to him : jockeys, trainers, grooms, stable-boys, all 
 the gang of straddle-legged folk who breathe well 
 when their lungs are charged with the robust air of 
 the stables, whose tongues love to savour the direct 
 speech of the stud, whose brain-cells are stocked 
 with the wondrous mythology of the Turf, whose 
 ear-cavities accommodate neglected hay-seeds, 
 whose teeth find pleasure in chewing sweet straws, 
 whose boots eternally crunch agreeably odorous 
 horse-dung. 
 
 ii 
 
 It was very like Kish Massy to enter Deerpark 
 under circumstances already related immediately 
 on returning from one of his trips abroad and 
 learning of the miracle which had happened. 
 
 " So you are agent, manager, and I might say 
 general boss of the whole place," he said to me on 
 one of the few occasions he found me at home. We 
 were smoking a pipe by the fire. 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders as if to say, "It is 
 nothing." 
 
 " Just so," he agreed slowly, a suspicious light 
 deepening in his eyes. I was very reticent, and 
 Kish Massy was very inquisitive about Deerpark. 
 
 " Well," he said, " to tell you nothing only the 
 truth, I thought the young hare herself had roamed 
 away long ago." 
 
 " Who is the young hare herself ? " I demanded 
 coldly. 
 
 He shrank at once ; an indiscretion on his own 
 
96 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 part always annoyed him. He stooped forward, 
 struck a match on a bar of the grate, and put the 
 light to his pipe. " One thing," he said, " I was 
 always a great admirer of the Heffernan family." 
 
 " They had a great many valuable admirers/' I 
 said, " once upon a time." I folded the newspaper 
 lying on my lap and put it on the table. 
 
 "I don't believe I ever laid eyes on Miss Heffernan 
 herself," he added, ignoring my ill humour. " Used 
 she ever go out for a canter at all ? " 
 
 " Never," I said, " she was too poor." 
 
 He took some slow puffs at his pipe, and said, 
 " And now she's rich." 
 
 " And now she's rich," I agreed, " so everybody 
 knows all about her." 
 
 " Especially yourself, Paul," he said slyly, at the 
 same time anxious to draw me. 
 
 " I knew as much about her when she was poor 
 as I do now that she's rich." 
 
 " That's greatly to your credit, especially a young 
 fellow like yourself." 
 
 It was my turn to smoke without saying anything. 
 .Kish Massy leaned a little forward, the pipe in his 
 left hand. His eyes were on the fire, but his body 
 and his mind leaned towards me. I knew he was 
 going to risk a question of importance. 
 
 " Tell me, Paul," he said, the tone low, con- 
 fidential, " how much do you think she'd be 
 worth ? " 
 
 I shook my head. " No idea," I said. 
 
 " Roughly speaking ? " he encouraged, the eyes 
 coming to my face. Kish Massy was, like all men 
 
KISH MASSY 97 
 
 of character, something of a hypnotist, and I could 
 feel that either consciously or unconsciously he was 
 trying to subordinate my mind to his. And I was 
 of the temperament which, almost unconsciously, 
 too, sidetrack strong minds by a pretence at giving 
 way to them. 
 
 " Between ourselves," I said, returning his gaze 
 steadily, and then paused. 
 
 1 Yes ? " He was afraid I had repented of a 
 valuable disclosure. 
 
 " Between ourselves," I repeated, and paused 
 again. " I don't want this to go beyond ourselves," 
 I added. 
 
 " Of course not. I understand that." Kish 
 Massy was hopeful, eager, respectful to my mys- 
 terious manner. 
 
 " Between you and me and the wall," I said in 
 a low voice, " Miss Heffernan is worth a tidy bit." 
 
 Kish was disappointed, but still had hope. " I 
 guessed as much," he said, to flatter me, " and now 
 you confirm it." 
 
 " I do confirm it," I said, the emphasis generous. 
 
 " In round numbers — just roughly — I wonder 
 what would she be likely to be worth ? " There 
 was almost pain in his face. 
 
 I looked cautiously round the room, then leaned 
 forward from my chair like Kish himself, giving 
 him the illusion that a secret was about to be 
 disclosed. Our figures hung over the fire ; our 
 eyes were on the burning coals ; there was that 
 tense silence which draws men into companionship, 
 disclosures, indiscretions ; Kish Massy's long head 
 7 
 
g8 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 stooped forward to mine, my head responded by a 
 nearer movement to his ; we were good friends, we 
 trusted each other ; the moment was heavy with 
 mutual interest in a woman and her fortunes. I 
 spoke in the proper minor key. 
 
 " Do you know what ? " I asked. 
 
 " What, Paul ? " 
 
 " They say " A cinder fell in the grate. 
 
 " Yes ? " I heard his teeth crunch on the shank 
 of the pipe. 
 
 " They say she might be a millionaire." 
 
 No part of Kish Massy moved except his upturned 
 hands ; the fingers began some nervous movements, 
 but movements that seemed to have meaning. I 
 watched them as the red glow of the fire shone 
 between them ; they were like the legs of a spider 
 spinning invisible threads. Slowly, almost im- 
 perceptibly, the busy movements slackened, as if 
 the hidden mechanism which started them had 
 concluded its revolutions. They stopped alto- 
 gether, the finger-tips drooped into the palms and 
 the palms themselves slowly turned downward, and 
 the knuckles once more shone redly in the firelight. 
 
 " Dear God ! " Kish Massy sighed at last — " a 
 millionaire ! " 
 
 I stood up, put my back to the fire, and looked 
 down with a smile at the top of his long head. The 
 pig-black and the grey hairs were about evens on 
 the field. His eyes remained on the coals, the pipe 
 went out, presently he put it in his pocket and got 
 up to go. The subject of Miss Heffernan and her 
 fortune was not further discussed. 
 
KISH MASSY 99 
 
 " Look here, Paul," Kish Massy said, " I was 
 almost forgetting — I want a nice piece of poetry." 
 
 " Poetry ? " I stared bewildered at him. 
 
 s Aye, a piece of poetry about horses." 
 
 I sat down and wiped my brow. 
 
 " I don't expect you to write it," Kish Massy said, 
 almost irritably. " What some other fellow com- 
 posed, you know, some piece out of a book." 
 
 " I cannot say how much relieved I am, Kish." 
 
 " But," he warned me, " I don't want any kind 
 of inferior stuff. No namby-pamby, Babes-in-the- 
 wood business. Give me something with breeding 
 to it — something with a kick in every line." 
 
 " What do you want it for ? " 
 
 ' That I'll acquaint you of at my discretion." 
 
 " I know ; you want it as a striking quotation at 
 the top or bottom of the posters advertising your 
 famous stallions." 
 
 " Paul Jennings," said Kish Massy with sudden 
 anger, " the stallions in my stud don't want any 
 damn poetry to bolster up their pedigrees. They're 
 not tramps or agricultural riff-raff." He strode 
 to the door and turned back. " Can you give me 
 the piece of poetry ? " 
 
 " Let me see," I said — " about a horse ? " 
 
 ' Yes, about a horse. Had any of them the 
 guts to write about a horse ? " 
 
 " I think Shakespeare has done some little thing 
 or other that way." 
 
 ' * Well — yes — Shakespeare. Maybe he would do. ■ ' 
 
 " They say he was a middling good man at his 
 trade." 
 
ioo THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 " Was he high class ? What about his pedigree ? " 
 
 " I heard he used to hang about stables one 
 time." 
 
 " That's done it. He's bound to have a snap in 
 him. We'll give Shakespeare a trial. Write it 
 on a piece of paper and send it up to me." 
 
 And Kish Massy strode out, having tapped my 
 knowledge to his satisfaction — for nothing. 
 
 in 
 
 Miss Heffernan drove in her carriage to the hunt 
 whenever the meet was within striking distance of 
 Deerpark. She liked to chat with the people there, 
 drive along the road and follow the chase as far as 
 it was possible to follow it from the road. There 
 was for her an excitement in seeing the men ride up 
 in their scarlet coats, white breeches, and top hats, 
 the women in their riding habits on fine hunters. 
 She was interested in the casual chatter to be heard 
 from horse-back, carriage, phaeton, trap. She 
 enjoyed the coming of the pack ; she marvelled at 
 the genius of .the whips in calling individual dogs 
 by their names. They were to her eyes a number 
 of identical white, black and tan patches ; even 
 the wagging of the curled tails appeared to her as 
 regular and drilled as the movements of a stage 
 ballet. There was a joy in watching the draw of 
 some covert. The dogs with their snouts to the 
 ground, twisting and whisking about the furze 
 bushes, the curled tails incessantly quivering, the 
 followers of the chase spread out like a fan, the 
 
KISH MASSY 
 
 weird cries of the whips, the shouting and noise 
 of the beaters, the excitement of the ragged gang 
 of volunteers who turn up at every meet, the sudden 
 mournful bay — like an Irish keen — of the hounds 
 when a trail is picked up, the career of a red fox 
 over the grey landscape, the tension of the whole 
 field as his dead, calculated gallop draws the 
 assembly in his wake — all these things , warmed 
 something in the Heffernan blood, gave her the 
 sensation that she was linked up with a tradition, 
 part of a privilege, an upholder of a custom which 
 gave rural life some quality of ancient fullblooded- 
 ness. 
 
 The leaves of the chestnuts and the elms were 
 dropping like conscious things to the grass of the 
 lawn, making the autumn vivid, one day that I 
 arrived at Deerpark and met Miss Heffernan as 
 she came out under the portico, awaiting the 
 carriage to take her to the meet. We greeted each 
 other quietly, and stood for some moments together, 
 Miss Heffernan drawing on her gloves. She looked 
 pinched and unhappy ; I had the same uneasy, 
 guilty feeling which had brought restless nights 
 to me since the affair in the library. 
 
 " I wonder what keeps Barlow ? " Miss Heffernan 
 said, a little impatiently. She moved down some 
 steps to the drive, then stood, a murmur of surprise 
 escaping her. In another moment Barlow, the 
 coachman, drew up the carriage in front of the 
 house. To the carriage were harnessed two splendid 
 bays which I had never seen before and which did 
 not belong to the Deerpark stables. 
 
ipLj': , KHE LkftY OF DEERPARK 
 
 " Why, what on earth has happened ? " Miss 
 Heffernan asked, walking down to the drive. I 
 was so interested that I followed. 
 
 Barlow saluted smartly. " I was backing the 
 chestnuts into the shafts, Miss," he said, " when 
 Mr. Kish Massy galloped into the yard with these 
 two bays. He insisted on them going in instead of 
 the chestnuts. Said it was your orders." 
 
 " My orders ? " 
 
 " Yes, miss." 
 
 " But I never gave such an order. I don't own 
 these horses." 
 
 M Well, that's what he said, miss." 
 
 We were looking up at Barlow, and Barlow was 
 looking down at us, the footman, arms folded, 
 sphinx-like on the box, his unemotional eyes un- 
 swervingly on unseen things beyond the shrubberies. 
 In another moment round the' gable from the 
 direction of the stables came the figure of Kish 
 Massy, his thick legs pushing hard, his arms out in 
 front of him, his elbows making short backward 
 drives, comical as a man doing a frog walk in the 
 water. 
 
 " Good morning, Miss Heffernan," he panted ; 
 " good morning, Mr. Jennings. I was in dread of 
 my very life I'd miss you, that you'd be gone on 
 me." He stood before us, breathless but keen. 
 One of the bays turned his head, swung the neck, 
 pawed the ground. 
 
 " Barlow informs me " Miss Heffernan began, 
 
 but Kish Massy interrupted in the most affable 
 way. 
 
KISH MASSY 103 
 
 " Don't blame Barlow," he said. " 'Twas my 
 doing. I had my heart set on them two bays 
 stepping into the meet to-day, and hearing you 
 were going I took the liberty of sending them up." 
 
 " Really, Mr. Massy, I'm afraid " 
 
 " Now, don't disappoint me, Miss Heffernan." 
 
 " I should much prefer to drive my own horses." 
 Miss Heffernan spoke with some asperity. 
 
 " The chestnuts are right enough, but they've 
 got a bit fat and are drowsy in themselves on 
 account of it." 
 
 "I'm not going in for driving competitions, Mr. 
 Massy." 
 
 " Indeed, I know that. But there are the bays 
 now, only too willing to show their points to the 
 meet, harnessed and all, and what's the use of 
 changing them for the chestnuts ? It will only 
 put Barlow to a lot of rounds, and he's cursed me 
 already in the yard." 
 
 Miss Heffernan did not seem able to keep back 
 the flicker of a smile. 
 
 " It will do them all good at the meet to see that 
 pair of bays." 
 
 " I assure you," said Miss Heffernan, " I have 
 no ambition whatever to parade at the meet in 
 borrowed plumes — or borrowed bays, should I 
 say ? " 
 
 Kish Massy laughed in his hearty way, pushed 
 back his hat on his head, and looked dellgnted. 
 
 " Massy is incorrigible," I said. 
 
 One of the bays snorted, raised his head, held it 
 rigid, the ears forward, and he appeared to con- 
 
104 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 centrate with the footman on unseen things beyond 
 the shrubberies. The heads of horse and footman 
 looked strikingly alike, almost mentally intimate 
 in their concentration. 
 
 " I want you just to drive them bays, Miss 
 Heffernan," said Kish Massy, " and let me 
 know what you think of their paces." 
 
 " Surely you could have found a better judge ? " 
 
 "I'd never put the judgment of a horse beyond 
 one of the Heffernan blood." 
 
 Miss Heffernan looked as if she wished to say, 
 " What on earth can I do ? " and the desire ended 
 in a shrug of the shoulders. Kish Massy, starting 
 a most curiously agreeable sound through his lips, 
 walked to the horses, moved about them, giving 
 the harness a rattle here, a chuck there, stroking 
 the horses on the legs, fondling them on the necks, 
 slapping them on the bellies, diving under them, 
 making passes of the hands, buzzing about them 
 like some great wizard. The bays were conscious 
 of his attentions, nervous under his influence, like 
 brutes who felt they were being judged. It was 
 not possible to remain uninterested either in them 
 or their master. They were splendid animals, 
 matched to the faint crescents on their grey quarters. 
 The snouts were soft black and moist, exactly like 
 the back of a black snail, speaking of perfect condi- 
 tion and health. The eyes were clear, with a flash 
 of daring, the skin pink and clean, the hair silky, 
 the mouths sensitive, inclined to foam. Here 
 and there nerves twitched, making the skin quiver ; 
 they whisked active mops over the shapely haunches, 
 
KISH MASSY 105 
 
 now and again champed the bits in their mouths. 
 Kish Massy stood before us, having worked up 
 our interest, spread his legs a little, laid his hand on 
 the muzzle of the nearest horse, and said : "Is 
 there anything better than a horse ? What does 
 the poet say ? " And to my amazement he recited 
 the words of the quotation I had sent him a week 
 previously — 
 
 " Look, when a painter would surpass the life 
 In limning out a well-proportioned steed, 
 His art with nature's workmanship at strife, 
 As if the dead the living should exceed ; 
 So did this horse excel a common one 
 In shape, In courage, colour, pace, and bone. 
 Round-hoofed, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, 
 Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostrils wide, 
 High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong, 
 Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide ; 
 Look, what a horse should have he did not lack 
 Save some proud lady seated at his back." 
 
 There was some stable quality in his voice which 
 gave the words a sympathy, a sincerity. Miss 
 Heffernan gazed at him like one who could tolerate 
 a survey of his personality for the first time. Kish 
 Massy pulled out his watch. 
 
 V Bless my soul, Miss Heffernan," he said, " it 
 will give Barlow and the bays all they can do to 
 get you to the meet in time. They'll be drawing 
 the coverts up by Ardclough first, and there are 
 foxes there, too. Don't let us be keeping you any 
 longer." 
 
 Miss Heffernan looked embarrassed for a moment. 
 
 " If you wanted the bays to be taken out itself 
 there's no time for it now. It's gone beyond 
 
106 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 discussion, as they say in Parliament. You'll have 
 a grand view of the draw around Ardclough, and 
 if the brush goes down by the lakes you'll see as 
 nice a chase as ever was, and plenty of good stone 
 walls for the Blazers." 
 
 Miss Heffernan could not, I knew, be " bluffed " 
 into doing a thing she did not wish to do. But if 
 she insisted on the bays coming out Kish Massy 
 would have found other obstructive tactics : it 
 would be the sort of situation his talent revelled in. 
 Miss Heffernan hated scenes. A lesser woman 
 might have found it necessary to make the scene. 
 She stepped into the carriage. Kish Massy made 
 a movement to help her in, but she was too quick 
 for him. Some sense of self-preservation made 
 her step in with surprising agility, and the footman, 
 who had dropped like a hawk from the box, was 
 snapping the handle of the carriage door before 
 Kish Massy could do anything. A moment later 
 the bays were going down the drive, throwing their 
 paws as if half swimming through the air. 
 
 I was not surprised when making my way to the 
 library to see the tall still figure of Mrs. Briscoe 
 thrown against the background of heavy plush 
 portieres which cut off the passage to the kitchen 
 and other mysterious regions of Deerpark. From 
 this spot she had been a spectator of events on the 
 drive. 
 
 " That was a good one," said Briscoe in a dry 
 voice, " about as good as ever I saw." Then in a 
 more animated tone, elevating her chin, " Well, I 
 never ! " 
 
KISH MASSY 107 
 
 " Kish Massy is making progress," I remarked. 
 
 " Rather ! " Briscoe declared. " When he called 
 the other evening Miss Heffernan saw him on the 
 doorstep. The interview lasted exactly twenty 
 seconds by that hall clock." She glanced up at 
 the time-piece. It had a round honest face. The 
 deliberate ticks seemed to say, " Briscoe is right, 
 Briscoe is always right." A Persian cat, known to 
 all as the Shah, parted the portieres, came through, 
 elevated his great tail, brushed the front of the 
 housekeeper's skirt, and seemed to say, " Of course 
 Briscoe is right. We all stand by Briscoe." 
 
 I could not strike a discordant note in the house- 
 hold. " Briscoe," I said, looking with admiration 
 at her dramatic pose, " You're a marvel for exact 
 information." 
 
 She made no acknowledgment, but the Shah 
 looked up at me with a mild smile of thanks. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 I FOUND Kish Massy on the doorsteps, a coil 
 of rope under his arm, obviously waiting for 
 somebody and passing the time by humming a 
 little out-of-tune song. It nettled me to find him 
 there ; I pulled the Deerpark hall-door to with a 
 bang. 
 
 " Has Miss Heffernan got back ? " he asked at 
 once. 
 
 " That I don't know," I replied. He was quick 
 to note some impatience in my tone. 
 
 " I thought I might ask at all events," he said. 
 
 " No harm done," I replied airily. 
 
 With that the carriage came down the drive. 
 Barlow, I could see, was handling the bays with 
 delight. There was something of the pride of a 
 swan breasting the water in the manner in which 
 they throw out their chests. 
 
 Miss Heffernan was rather surprised to find us 
 awaiting her — I doubt if she was pleased — for it 
 looked as if we had not left the spot since morning, 
 although I had, meanwhile, put in several hours' 
 work in the library. 
 
 108 
 
KISH MASSY 109 
 
 " The bays were much admired," she said to 
 Kish Massy, but in a rather bored voice. 
 
 ' There was no carriage pair to touch them at 
 the meet, I go bail," said Kish Massy. 
 
 Miss Heffernan turned to Barlow. " See that 
 the horses are properly attended to and returned 
 to Mr. Massy 's place," she said. 
 
 Barlow touched his hat ; the footman maintained 
 his ascetic aloofness ; the carriage disappeared in 
 the direction of the stables. 
 
 Miss Heffernan had mounted the steps to the 
 house ; Kish Massy moved " to a corner of the 
 flight ; I was some yards out on the drive. We 
 described the First Proposition of Euclid ; we were 
 the points of an equalatoral triangle. Miss Heffernan 
 stood when Kish Massy addressed her — 
 
 " If you'll excuse me, Miss Heffernan, there 
 won't be any occasion to take the bays from Deer- 
 park again." 
 
 If Kish Massy was about to force a sale his 
 methods were crude ; I think Miss Heffernan 
 expected something of the kind. She looked less 
 annoyed. 
 
 " I don't quite understand," she said, turning 
 down the collar of her heavy coat. I thought she 
 looked tired. The rather biting autumn wind — 
 that subtle first nip which has the venom of winter 
 in its young heart — had sharpened the dark lines 
 under her eyes, made the lips pallid. 
 
 " I hope you'll excuse me, Miss Heffernan," said 
 Kish Massy, looking at her deliberately, " but if 
 you'll accept the pair of bays as a gift you'll be 
 
no THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 doing me a great honour." He spoke quickly, 
 jerked the coil of rope expertly in his hand. 
 
 I think my under jaw dropped. Miss Heffernan 
 moved a little along the step, mounted to another 
 one, looking at Kish Massy with wide eyes. 
 
 " Really, Mr. Massy," she said, a nervousness that 
 was also a hostility in her voice. 
 
 Kish Massy raised his hat and bowed. " A very 
 great honour indeed," he said. 
 
 " But why — why on earth should you make me a 
 present of the bays ? " she asked. The question 
 was reasonable though hardly flattering to the 
 donor. 
 
 I saw some movement of Kish Massy's thick^ 
 legs as if he were setting himself into an attitude. 
 His oblong eyes, from his corner of the triangle, 
 took Miss Heffernan and myself in with a quick 
 sweep. I had the feeling that he was about to 
 spring something upon us. 
 
 " I ask you to accept the horses, Miss Heffernan," 
 he said quietly, " in return for a great favour once 
 done me by a member of your family." 
 
 " I never knew — I never heard," said Miss 
 Heffernan, looking bewildered. Her hand toyed 
 with a button of her coat. 
 
 " You could not know," said Kish Massy, " be- 
 cause the kindness was bestowed upon me at the 
 other end of the earth." He paused, ranging the 
 triangle with his swift eyes, adding, " Out in the 
 Bush of Australia." 
 
 Both our eyes were instantly upon Kish Massy. 
 The silence which followed was heavy with interest. 
 
KISH MASSY in 
 
 A flock of pigeons circled overhead, their wings 
 sounding with a strong leathery beat. Miss Heffer- 
 nan betrayed some agitation. 
 
 " Were you in Australia 1 " I asked directly, 
 incredulity in my voice. 
 
 " My last trip was to Australia," said Kish Massy. 
 
 I had assumed that it had been, like a few previous 
 trips, to America. I recalled rapidly that he had 
 been away quite a long time, perhaps close on 
 three years. We had begun to forget him. The 
 stables during his absence were run by his brother 
 Augustine, who was quite unlike Kish both in 
 appearance and temperament, but had all his talent 
 for handling horses. 
 
 " Do you mean you met my nephew there ? " 
 Miss Heffernan asked, not without some emotion 
 in her voice. She opened some buttons of her coat 
 nervously, absent-mindedly. 
 
 ' Yes, I met Mr. George Heffernan in Australia," 
 Kish Massy said in the same quiet voice. He 
 jerked the coil of rope again. 
 
 " I had no idea you had. Why did you not let 
 us know at once ? " Miss Heffernan's fingers but- 
 toned the coat she had a moment before unbuttoned. 
 
 " I had not much opportunity, Miss Heffernan." 
 Kish Massy looked up at her with a certain frankness. 
 He raised his left foot on a step, resting it there. 
 He was unexpectedly dignified. I remembered 
 the short shrift he had got when he called on Miss 
 Heffernan some evenings ago — twenty seconds by 
 the hall clock. There was almost a painful pause. 
 The flock of pigeons drove down in a wild slant 
 
ii2 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 over the roof of the house to the lofts of the stables 
 at the back. 
 
 " Won't you come in and tell us all about it I " 
 Miss Heffernan said, a timid note in her voice. 
 
 " Delighted, Miss Heffernan." Kish Massy 
 tossed the coil of rope on to his elbow. 
 
 I turned to go. 
 
 " Perhaps you would join us, Mr. Jennings ? " 
 Miss Heffernan said. There was a certain appeal 
 in her voice. I knew instinctively that she did not 
 wish to entertain Kish Massy alone. • I was con- 
 scious, too, that Kish Massy, from his angle of the 
 First Proposition, was keen as a razor to get an 
 understanding of the relations between us. 
 
 " You might join Mr. Massy in a glass of wine," 
 Miss Heffernan suggested. 
 
 " With pleasure," I said. 
 
 The triangle dissolved. Miss Heffernan led the 
 way into the house, Kish Massy came next, I 
 followed leisurely. In the hall Kish Massy coolly 
 hung up his coil of rope with his hat. I thought, as 
 he followed Miss Heffernan into a reception-room, 
 that he suppressed a swagger of the thick limbs. 
 I had a rapid glimpse of Mrs. Briscoe as she lurked 
 somewhere in the neighbourhood of the plush 
 portieres. Directly in front of her feet the Shah 
 was sitting on his haunches, his well-bred tail flat 
 behind him on the ground, his mild-whiskered face 
 elevated. He was saying, " Well, I never ! " 
 
KISH MASSY 113 
 
 11 
 
 The room was long and, like all the rooms in 
 Deerpark, furnished with judgment and, above 
 all, restraint. Miss Heffernan was not standing 
 on any ceremony. She moved to a tapestry couch 
 under a window, indicating, rather than inviting, 
 Kish Massy and myself to select our own seats. I 
 got into my favourite place — a low, uncomfortable 
 ottoman with twisted mahogany legs, near the 
 fire-place. In this spot I could observe whatever 
 drama was to follow and at the same time hug my 
 knees with my arms. Kish Massy hesitated, 
 looking about him. At last he deliberately walked 
 to an antique chair, or rather throne, with a step 
 reaching to a little dais and a long narrow high 
 carved back. He rested his hands on the arms of 
 the throne and looked about him, pleased, I could 
 see, with his surroundings. Something like a 
 grunt of satisfaction broke from him. Miss Heffer- 
 nan removed her hat slowly and laid it beside her, 
 something a little weary in her movements. I had 
 a sudden sensation of unhappiness. The situation 
 seemed unaccountably strained. 
 
 " When did you see George, Mr. Massy ? " Miss 
 Heffernan asked, some nervous quality in her voice. 
 
 "■ Something like two years ago," Kish Massy 
 replied. He was almost directly facing Miss 
 Heffernan, but nearer to me. 
 
 With some hesitation, some movements of the 
 hands up and down the arm of the throne, some 
 shifting of the legs, Kish Massy related to us the 
 8 
 
ii4 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 circumstances of his meeting with George Heffernan 
 in a hotel in Sydney. That meeting was quite 
 accidental. Kish Massy had seen letters in the 
 rack of the hotel hall addressed to a Mr. George 
 Heffernan, he made inquiries, discovered the 
 identity of the visitor and they became friendly, 
 having, of course, a great deal of interest in each 
 other owing to their antecedents at home. 
 
 I have no clear recollection of the full story 
 which Kish Massy went on to relate. Much more 
 vividly do I remember the bulky figure on the 
 throne, the carved woodwork reaching over the long 
 head. A vague doubt as to the truth of what he 
 related obsessed me. Some whispering which had 
 gone the rounds at the time of his departure came 
 back to my mind. It had been said he had gone 
 away to avoid debts. 
 
 ■ ■ Your nephew," said Kish Massy, " was at the 
 time transacting very important business in Sydney 
 with his stockbrokers." Kish Massy loved the 
 sound of the word. The palms of his hands turned 
 upward, the fingers twitching. 
 
 But the life that had attracted Kish Massy most 
 was, he declared, the life of the Bush, the life spent 
 on horseback, the pastoral life. 
 
 " It is easier for a man from Connacht, to fall into 
 that life than it is for most people," he declared.' 
 " We graze sheep mostly in Connacht, our country- 
 sides are lonely, we do a great deal of our travelling 
 on horseback. But there the resemblance ends. 
 There is no real comparison when you get to the 
 Bush." 
 
KISH MASSY 115 
 
 He went on to speak of his delight at being 
 invited by Mr. George Heffernan to visit one of his 
 sheep stations in New South Wales. He dwelt on 
 all the hospitality he had experienced while doing 
 so. Miss Heffernan leaned forward, her elbows 
 on her knees, her hands clasped, straining to hear 
 every detail of the life of the man to whom she 
 owed all her present possessions, the man who had 
 redeemed the family name. Kish Massy inclined 
 from his throne to her as he praised the family 
 hero. As the story went on I could not help think- 
 ing, what an amazing contrast they made : Miss 
 Heffernan tall, elegant, unhappy, something broken 
 in her life, sensitive to an exceeding degree, old- 
 world, refined, a charm in all her simple ways. 
 Her profile was between me and the light of the 
 window ; I could see the partings of the moist lips 
 as she listened to the words of Kish Massy, her 
 yellow hair disordered above her head'. And Kish 
 Massy : He had settled into the throne. The 
 thick legs were well apart, a stout pair of pillars, 
 the paunch reaching across them like a dome, a 
 splendid piece of architecture the style of which 
 dated back to the period of the Garden of Eden. 
 His hands now rested on his knees, the palms 
 turned upward, two red cups fashioned to receive 
 gifts. The lips while he spoke seemed extra- 
 ordinarily eloquent. Out of the oblong eyes there 
 were glances hungry in their eagerness to observe 
 and to impress. This strange god, almost bronze 
 in colour, was alive in every nerve, vulgar, aggressive, 
 unscrupulous, humorous, and at the moment 
 
n6 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 extremely happy. As I beheld him on the throne 
 I said to myself, " Suppose some artist or sculptor 
 sought a model of Crom Cruach, the evil god who 
 had twelve evil sub-gods, what a chance this would 
 be ! " While he talked from his throne he was 
 putting forth all that personal hypnotic influence 
 which was part of his aggressive character, the 
 hypnotic influence which he used with such splendid 
 effect upon animals, upon his followers at the 
 stable, and upon most of those who came within his 
 range. He looked pleased because the situation 
 favoured him. He was undoubtedly making an 
 impression as a voice from the Bush. 
 
 As I have said, I have no recollection of the more 
 or less connected story which Kish Massy related. 
 Only stray snatches of it remain with me. I 
 remember a little description of himself and George 
 Heffernan sitting on a veranda outside his house 
 at a sheep station, smoking an evening pipe. Kish 
 was disappointed with life in Australia and grew 
 to dislike it : the management of horses was so 
 different. The conditions were outside his scope. 
 " Every man in that place," said Kish Massy, " was 
 like a trick circus rider, and they used to remind me 
 of this by telling me I had no place on their pro- 
 gramme." 
 
 The long rides made no appeal to him, and as to 
 loneliness and vast spaces, why Connacht was a 
 thriving populated place beside it. He had learned 
 some tricks of mounting and dismounting, methods 
 of curbing the tempers of fiery steeds, and a band 
 of lads from Argentina whom he struck had taught 
 
KISH MASSY 117 
 
 him the art of lassoing. There was some vividness 
 in the short, jerky sentences in which he talked of 
 long rides with border men whose main business it 
 was to succour sheep who had tumbled over on 
 their backs, unable to regain their legs again on 
 account of the heavy fleeces. I was interested for a 
 little in his account of one of the few birds which 
 refused to move back with the receding wilderness 
 of the real Bush and which found a living on the 
 maggots of the sheep : in its hunt for the maggots it 
 had discovered the kidneys of the animal, took 
 greatly to them as a luxury, and consequently 
 became a very great pest. It was inevitable that 
 he should speak about the rabbits and the hares, 
 the wonder of their numbers. While he was talking 
 Broderick, the butler, brought a bottle of wine and 
 some glasses. Kish Massy held his glass in one of 
 the red cups of his hands after the manner of a god. 
 Miss Heffernan, during the interruption, moved 
 from the sofa to a chair nearer the corner of the 
 window. She had listened quietly to Kish Massy's 
 story. 
 
 It was, he said, an attack of dysentery which had 
 laid him low in Australia and brought about his 
 final dislike of the country. His life was in danger. 
 At mention of this fact he sipped some wine. He 
 waxed a little sentimental about his ailment and 
 looked in such very fine fettle that it was difficult 
 to restrain a smile at his past distress. He was 
 convinced that he would have died in the Bush were 
 it not for the kindness and the good heart of one 
 man. That man was Mr. George Heffernan. He 
 
n8 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 inclined to Miss Heffernan as he made the declara- 
 tion ; she clasped her hands in her lap as she lis- 
 tened. ... In the cool of the evening and during 
 the night Mr. George Heffernan had driven Kish 
 Massy across a desolate tract of country, arid, 
 parched and hopeless in a fearful drought, to his 
 sheep station, and there had him cared and nursed 
 until he was by a miracle restored. That act he 
 would never forget to Mr. • George Heffernan, his 
 memory or his kind. He spent weeks on a bed of 
 pain after the night journey across the arid Bush, 
 but was so carefully nursed that his strength came 
 back to him, he returned to Sydney, went from 
 thence to New Zealand, where he engaged for some 
 time in the cutting down of timber, then returned 
 to Ireland. Kish Massy stirred himself upon his 
 throne and attempted to wind up his panegyric 
 with a little peroration. 
 
 " A finer man, a kinder friend, a larger-hearted 
 gentleman, never drew breath of life than Mr. George 
 Heffernan. Thank God I have lived to speak these 
 words of him in the house where all his race were 
 bred and nurtured/ ' 
 
 " By heavens/' I said to myself, " Kish is doing 
 splendidly." 
 
 Miss Heffernan was, I could see, greatly touched 
 by the story. Kish Massy was so moved by his 
 own emotion that I rose and replenished his 
 glass. 
 
 " Did George look ill or delicate when you saw 
 him ? " Miss Heffernan asked. 
 
 '■ Not a bit," replied Kish Massy. " He was, 
 
KISH MASSY 119 
 
 like most of the men out there, thin, wiry, and fit 
 as a fiddle." 
 
 Miss Heffernan returned to the sofa. Kish Massy 
 sipped his wine, his oblong eyes following her 
 movements over the edge of his glass. 
 
 " Did George never speak of those at home ? " 
 Miss Heffernan asked slowly, hesitantly, almost 
 nervously. Her hand began to fondle>the buttons 
 of her coat. 
 
 Kish Massy lowered his glass and paused before 
 he replied. I was standing by a side table. I held 
 the bottle of wine over the tray. Something tense 
 had come over the atmosphere of the room. 
 
 " I will answer you truly, Miss Heffernan," Kish 
 Massy said. " I don't believe he ever worried 
 much about his old home or those at home. I don't 
 think he understood the circumstances. But when 
 we talked about the old land and when I told him 
 the way it was with the Deerpark property he 
 appeared to think more of it and to be more con- 
 cerned about its revival." 
 
 There was dead silence after this declaration. I 
 put down the bottle of wine noiselessly on the 
 tray. There could be no doubt of the significance 
 of the announcement. It had linked up Kish 
 Massy with the whole wonder of the resurrection 
 of Deerpark, revealed him as the instrument chosen 
 by Providence to fire George Heffernan with inspira- 
 tion which resulted in the fortune which had come 
 to Miss Heffernan. 
 
 r< This," I told myself, " is a pretty stroke." 
 
120 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 in 
 
 Miss Heffernan had built in her mind a shrine 
 sacred to the memory of her nephew, George Heffer- 
 nan. There was enthroned an idol at which no 
 heretic dare point a profane finger. In the most 
 wonderfully intimate way this idol was part of her 
 belief in the greatness of the family, her veneration 
 for the estate, her worship of the thing which had 
 justified her long years of certainty in a resurrection 
 which happened. She could at best have only a 
 dim recollection of her nephew as a small boy ; the 
 memory of a man whom she never saw but who had 
 been a torture to her mind because of his potency 
 to ruin or redeem the estate must have a sharper 
 place in her recollection. But all these things had 
 now been woven into harmony in the romance of 
 the property. George Heffernan was assuming 
 in her mind the attributes of all mythical heroes. 
 He was a wonder-man, wearing his halo as befitted 
 a Heffernan. 
 
 I do not know how far Kish Massy could have 
 grasped Miss Heffernan 's mental attitude with 
 regard to her nephew, but certain it is that the 
 revelation of a friendship which had led to the 
 resurrection of Deerpark was giving Kish Massy a 
 place in Miss Heffernan's thoughts which she herself 
 could not deny him. Her early prejudices against 
 him were obvious ; she did not make' any attempt 
 to conceal them. How could these prejudices 
 stand up to the appeal of the story which had come 
 from the throne ? Already Miss Heffernan must 
 
KISH MASSY 121 
 
 be upbraiding herself for the manner in which Kish 
 Massy had been treated. The very appearance 
 which he carried about with him of Bush life in 
 Australia, not so very far removed from the primitive 
 environment of his home occupation, was surely 
 now a thing that would stand to his credit in the 
 eyes of Miss Heffernan ? Kish Massy was a holy 
 pilgrim who had been to the Mecca of Miss Heffer- 
 nan's dreams. He was the only one she could ever 
 hope to know who had beheld the glory of the 
 Heffernan manhood. 
 
 I do not wish to deny Kish Massy's capacities. 
 He had not that long head of his for nothing. He 
 had a rough-and-ready understanding of humanity 
 and no scruple about playing upon its weaknesses. 
 This rough-and-ready capacity, coloured with some 
 cunning, makes for more success in the ordinary 
 affairs of life than the finer and more subtle intelli- 
 gences. The fool who rushes in where angels fear 
 to tread has more laughs at the expense of the 
 angels than we suspect. 
 
 "I am so pleased you have told me all this," 
 Miss Heffernan said after a long pause. Her hands 
 were on either side of her as she sat back on the 
 tapestry couch. 
 
 " Not a bit more pleased than I am myself," 
 said Kish Massy. • 
 
 I walked from the side table to the fire-place. 
 
 " Extremely interesting," I said. It may be 
 that some harsh note sounded in my Voice, but both 
 of them looked at me at once. 
 
 Miss Heffernan took up her hat ready for departure. 
 
122 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 I made some movement to the door. Kish Massy 
 clung firmly to his throne. 
 
 " I suppose, Miss Heffernan," he said, " that I 
 will now have the pleasure of hearing that you will 
 accept the pair of bays." 
 
 We had both forgotten the bays ! For a 
 secon4 the old look of annoyance, almost pain, 
 swept across Miss Heffernan's face. It vanished 
 at once. 
 
 " I am sure George would be very displeased if I 
 were to refuse," she said. " I am very grateful to 
 you, Mr. Massy, and the horses are a magnificent 
 gift." 
 
 '■* Well spoken," declared Kish Massy, rising from 
 his throne. Turning to me he said, " Here, Jennings, 
 let us drink to Miss Heffernan, to her health, pro- 
 sperity and long life." 
 
 I had rather expected his ingrained vulgarity 
 
 'would break out in some banality of the kind. 
 
 Miss Heffernan's eyes drooped while he drained 
 
 his glass, and I, feeling red and embarrassed, raised 
 
 mine, although there was nothing in it. 
 
 In the hall Kish Massy said, as he took down his 
 hat and coil of rope, " If you don't mind, I'll go 
 round by the stables myself and acquaint Barlow 
 as to the bays." 
 
 Without waiting to hear the reply I bowed and 
 walked down the drive, swinging my stick as I 
 went. I had not gone very far, however, when 
 suddenly I heard a swish about my ears, and the 
 next moment I felt my arms pinned to my side. 
 I looked down to see, with amazement, that a rope 
 
KISH MASSY 123 
 
 was coiled round my body. A little jerk tightened 
 it most uncomfortably across my chest. For a 
 second I was bewildered ; a perspiration of indigna- 
 tion broke out on my body as the truth dawned 
 upon me. I had been lassoed by Kish Massy ! He 
 had given an exhibition of one of his Australian 
 accomplishments ! 
 
 I turned round, anger in every nerve of my body. 
 Miss Heffernan was standing at the top of the steps, 
 her expression one of dismay struggling with 
 uncontrollable laughter. Some way down the steps 
 was Kish Massy, the other end of the rope in his 
 hands, his fat active figure stooped forward like an 
 athlete about to start in a race, his face one shining 
 ray of palicious delight. 
 
 " Ha-ha ! " he cried, " I've got you, Paul ! " 
 I staggered a little as the rope got a powerful 
 chuck. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 MRS. HUGH QUIRKE'S accent rose over 
 the faint babble, dominant as the gobble 
 of a turkey in a poultry yard. A voice 
 hailed me from behind. 
 . " Ah, Jennings ! " 
 
 It was Dr. O'Sullivan, the local practitioner. We 
 entered together. Miss Heffernan moved across 
 the room to greet us. She had been speaking to his 
 lordship, Dr. Noel Mitchel, the bishop of the diocese, 
 turning to him again when she had greeted us. 
 
 " The chrysanthemums would be most welcome 
 for the guar ant ore," I heard the bishop say. 
 
 Dr. O'Sullivan and myself moved down the 
 room, joining the first group we met. Here was 
 Colonel Algernon Burke, a very likeable man whose 
 figure was somewhat misshapen ; he spoke with 
 a lisp, and had at one time made an essay into 
 politics but received such a rough handling that 
 he was now solely interested in poor law reform, 
 his whole passion in life centred on an amalgamation 
 of workhouses. He was expounding his scheme to 
 Captain Manning. The captain grunted now and 
 
 124 
 
KISH MASSY 125 
 
 again in agreement with the colonel, the captain's 
 figure sturdy and a little aloof. He had bought his 
 title in the Militia in his youth and had devoted 
 all his days since to the grazing of sheep and cattle, 
 making a great success of it. It was said of the 
 captain that he knew how to sell wool better than 
 any man who had ever seen a shears. 
 
 " Mr. Kish Massy," announced the footman. I 
 wheeled around sharply, scarcely believing my ears. 
 
 Could it be possible Kish Massy had been invited 
 to a dinner party at Deerpark, that he was to be 
 incorporated in this select little society in the 
 hills, about to be taken up by Miss Heffernan ? 
 Could it be possible he had arrived ? By Heaven, 
 there he was at the door, looking enormous, and in 
 evening dress, too ! His white shirt front looked 
 like some swelling white sail bearing a dark barge 
 down the bright room. I could have snorted in 
 sheer repugnance. 
 
 " Wethers went better and I got the top price for 
 the hoggets," said Captain Manning to somebody 
 farther down the room. 
 
 I wondered if Miss Heffernan had invited Kish 
 Massy as a sequel to his story of the Bush, a sort 
 of compensation for the snubs which had been 
 offered him ? He looked very cheerful as he sailed 
 down the room, anchoring somewhere near the hearth 
 with Mrs. Hugh Quirke, a lady. keenly interested in 
 horses. That lady, whose origin was obscure, was 
 very anxious to get on in local society, and her idea 
 of doing so was to stare very hard and to speak in a 
 loud chopping voice which always reminded me of 
 
126 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 the turkeys in the poultry yard. She was now 
 gobbling with great spirit at Kish Massy. 
 
 " The whole system is w'ong," declared Colonel 
 Burke. " Amalgamate them and " 
 
 I moved away, some annoyance coming to me at 
 the presence of Kish Massy. As I moved away 
 Lady Agatha Newell was announced. This was 
 Miss Heffernan's great friend, and I was glad to hear 
 she had come. 
 
 Lady Newell was understood to have spent all 
 her life between Paris, London, Vienna, and the 
 Riviera. The spaces between she dismissed with 
 a shrug of the shoulders. " Where they grow the 
 vegetables," she said. Suddenly two branches of 
 the Newell family, long hostile, launched into a 
 fearful legal contest, involving both their fortunes. 
 A storm raged in the courts, Lady Newell' s end of 
 the beam eventually gave, so that, the storm abated, 
 she discovered she had been washed into a dower- 
 house — a long barrack-like damp building — over 
 the hills and far away ! Here she had languished 
 ever since, a distinguished but broken-hearted 
 deposit. Her sanity she had preserved by taking 
 to the breeding of prize Pomeranian dogs, her 
 spirits she had spasmodically maintained on Miss 
 Heffernan's cellars, and her tongue she whetted on 
 all of us, perversely holding her local neighbours 
 responsible for the debacle of the Newell family. 
 That tongue was a source of amusement and alarm 
 to her friends, albeit that she affected difficulties 
 with the English language. She came into the 
 room now leaning on an ebony stick with a gold 
 
KISH MASSY 127 
 
 knob, her walk a reminiscence of the Alexandra 
 limp, her gown remarkable mostly for the number 
 of laces that fluttered about her. On her golden 
 head she wore a diminutive creation in black lace 
 which had a far-out cousinship to a cap. Her face, 
 although made up, was made up with unusual skill 
 and almost pallid, the features and the eyes giving 
 a strong hint of the beauty which, it had been said, 
 had once, combined with her wit, made Paris talk. 
 
 " Marie," she cried making straight down the 
 room for the fire, " what an evening to bring one 
 out ! Winds the most terrible, the most bitter, 
 the most hateful ! My poor bones, how they ache ! 
 I am so cold I no longer care to live. Ah, I am glad 
 of the logs so bright." 
 
 There was no seat convenient to the hearth, and 
 Kish Massy at once wheeled an armchair to the 
 spot. He looked, as he did so, as if he were backing 
 a horse into the shafts. My eyes followed his 
 movements with scorn. Lady Newell sank into 
 the chair without as much as looking at him Miss 
 Heffernan moved quietly to her guest and they 
 exchanged a light kiss on the cheeks. 
 
 " Ma chere, it was good of you to think of the 
 logs, for I famish." 
 
 " The weather has certainly been very bad," 
 Miss Heffernan admitted. Her tall, distinguished 
 figure towered over Lady NewelTs chair, and again 
 it annoyed me to see Kish Massy very anxious to 
 join them in conversation. 
 
 " It's the east wind that caught you on the bog 
 road, Lady Newell," he said. 
 
128 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 At the sound of the voice Lady Newell raised her 
 lorgnette and through it surveyed Kish Massy. 
 It did not require any artificial aid to see him, but 
 Lady Newell ranged about his figure with a scrutiny 
 which would have appalled most people. She 
 leaned backward and forward, swayed from side 
 to side as if endeavouring in vain to estimate his 
 girth. 
 
 " Why, who have we here by the cheminee ? " she 
 asked at length. 
 
 Miss Heffernan presented Kish Massy. She did 
 so quietly. Kish Massy made a stiff quick bow, 
 his shirt front jumping out smartly at the chest. 
 
 " Who did you say we have here, Marie ? " Lady 
 Newell persisted, making braver efforts to see 
 round his figure. 
 
 " Mr. Kish Massy/' Miss Heffernan repeated. I 
 strained my ears because I thought I caught an 
 unconscious note of apology in the voice. 
 
 "Ah, now I know! He is of the horses so 
 famous ! And as for the stoutness, it is immense. 
 How can you look so well in this climate, monsieur ? 
 Behold me. I am on the bone." 
 
 " You are really too hard on our climate, Lady 
 Newell,' ' said Dr. Mitchel, strolling over to the 
 hearth. 
 
 " Ah, my good bishop, you are here and already 
 you preach to me." She gave him the tip of her 
 elegant fingers. 
 
 " Not preaching, remonstrating very mildly," 
 said the bishop. 
 
 " It is the same. And it is of no use. There is 
 
KISH MASSY 129 
 
 no hell ; there is only this pays sauvage, this Connacht 
 most dreadful." 
 
 " It is merely your own " 
 
 " Do not speak to me of my sins. They were 
 many, but I am punished." She swerved away 
 from the bishop. " Marie," she said, "you know 
 Jacques, the toy chocolate, the father of so many 
 families ? " 
 
 " Yes, a beauty." 
 
 " What do you think ? This morning he got a 
 forepaw in a rat-trap. And the howls ! " She put 
 her fingers over her ears. 
 
 " One of the little Pomeranians, is it ? " asked 
 Kish Massy. Lady Newell looked beyond him as 
 if he no longer existed, as if he were a transparency. 
 
 " Ah, Algernon," she called out, " there you are, 
 talking about your tiresome workhouses ! Come 
 to me and shake hands." 
 
 Colonel Burke, an old friend, came up to the 
 hearth and patted her on the cheeks. 
 
 " Well, Agwatha," lisped Colonel Burke, " how- 
 do-you-do ? " 
 
 " How do I do ? How could I do ? I am cold 
 and into the bones." 
 
 " Did you get the wain yeste'day coming from 
 the twain ? " 
 
 " Rain ? It was the Deluge ! If I had not 
 escaped, the good bishop would now be chanting 
 the De profundis." 
 
 The dinner gong sounded. 
 
i 3 o THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 ii 
 
 Over the white table, the sparkle of cut-glass and 
 silver and plate, the delicate tints of the chrysan- 
 themums in the epergnes, the frail sprays of aspara- 
 gus fern, above the comedy of the conversation, 
 loomed that enormous figure in black and white, 
 the light from the chandeliers overhead falling on 
 the pig black and the steel-grey streaks of hair. 
 It rose like a vague menace, a threat. The oblong 
 eyes shifted from my face. I looked down at the 
 wine Broderick was pouring into my glass. 
 
 " What right has he to come here ? ". I asked 
 myself. " He should not be of the company." 
 The clatter of cutlery on the plate, the occasional 
 tinkle of the neck of a bottle on a glass sounded 
 like an ironic comment on my thoughts. Somebody 
 laughed and there was a lull in the general conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! " Lady Newell exclaimed, leaning 
 a little to Miss Heffernan. " How can one eat like 
 that and expect to rise from the table when the 
 time comes ? " Lady NewelTs words had reference 
 to Kish Massy, the figure looming over the table. 
 A footman was fluttering about his chair with 
 anxiety. He had been putting away great quanti- 
 ties of food. 
 
 " At the worst the butler can carry one out," 
 said Miss Heffernan. As she spoke there was no 
 smile on her face, but now and again there was that 
 cloud of unhappiness. She seemed a little remote, 
 like one removed from it all. 
 
KISH MASSY 131 
 
 " Agwatha, my deah," chided Colonel Burke, 
 " you do not mellow with the yeaws." 
 
 ' No, Algernon," she replied, " I am not a bottle 
 of old port in the cellar." 
 
 Kish Massy threw back his head. I gazed at him 
 with some reproof. He returned the look with 
 defiance. There was a gleam of triumph in his 
 gaze. I looked away. 
 
 In the hall, as we came away, I overheard Miss 
 Heffernan say to Kish Massy, " So very pleased you 
 came and that you did not allow Lady Newell to 
 terrorize you." 
 
 " Miss Heffernan," said Kish Massy, " I have not 
 travelled round the world and remained a child." 
 
 I walked home alone. There were heavy black 
 clouds resting like ugly gorged beasts on the grey 
 sky. The wind came from the east. There were 
 sharp cries from snipe who winged overhead. 
 
 " I don't know that I am so pleased to have gone 
 to Deerpark," I reflected. " I think it would 
 have been more pleasant if I had gone to Betty 
 Carolan. But how was I to know that Kish Massy 
 would be there ? I wonder was it given in his 
 honour ? I wonder why he gave Miss Heffernan 
 the present of the pair of bays ? I wonder " 
 
 The snipe cried overhead. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE stable bell in the stone arch of the 
 courtyard of Deerpark clanged impatiently. 
 It was one o'clock. The raucous tone went 
 out over^the fields, living long enough to touch'the 
 ears of the timekeeper standing at the brow of the 
 marble quarries. He looked at his watch, waited 
 some seconds, then blew his whistle. 
 
 The harsh stroke of the sledge hammers on the 
 drill-bars, the " ya-ya " of the men who swung 
 them, ceased in the depths below. The men who 
 turned the handles of the cranes stopped, wiped 
 their brows, drew on their coats ; the chains hanging 
 from the jibs, swinging blocks of stone from the 
 bowels of the earth, no longer groaned. The men 
 leading the horses and carts turned their heads 
 about and jogged down to the road. Up the rude 
 passages men scrambled, calling to each other as 
 they came over the brows of the pits. They went 
 away in little groups, their heavy boots scrunching 
 on the heaps of grey splinters or sinking in the 
 pyramids of yellow soft earth, making a zigzag 
 down the landscape. Here and there stray souls 
 who did their own cooking collected about the 
 
 132 
 
KISH MASSY 133 
 
 glowing braziers where the tar was kept boiling, 
 ready for use in the making of the narrow line of 
 rail which we were cutting down the hills, upon 
 which a lorry service was to be soon inaugurated. 
 
 "It will be a great saving in haulage right enough," 
 said Augustine Massy as his unemotional eyes 
 followed the wake of the line of rail, Uttered with 
 sleepers and workmen's tools, as yet only a fresh 
 gap in the virgin soil. 
 
 I made no reply ; Augustine Massy's conversation 
 always sounded so remote that one's instinct was 
 to ignore it. His languid hand stroked his black 
 beard. He was not alone a negative of Kish, but 
 almost a negative of everything, one of those sub- 
 normal mortals who live to tremendous ages, who 
 keep up a sort of curiosity as to what is happening 
 in the world about them but who remain apart from 
 it all, super-nonentities. I forgot his presence 
 completely as my eyes wandered away from the 
 yawning gaps of the quarries to a road which wound 
 through the hills some hundreds of yards lower down. 
 
 Along that road was moving a little cavalcade 
 in the bright winter sun. It made me drop the 
 stick I held in my hand, caused an exclamation of 
 amazement to escape from my lips. My eyes 
 fastened upon the cavalcade with a morbid fascina- 
 tion. First was a venerable phaeton drawn by a 
 single and dejected horse. On the back seat of the 
 phaeton lolled a bundle of brown furs. Inside the 
 bundle of furs was the Lady Agatha Newell, one 
 solitary eye peeping through the furs, keeping 
 track of the outside world. Some little way behind 
 
134 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 the phaeton came Kish Massy mounted on a hunter. 
 There was an ease in his pose, a consciousness that 
 he looked at home and well on horseback. But I 
 wasted hardly the fraction of a second on him. 
 Some few yards behind him came the figure which 
 I gazed upon in stupefaction. It was Miss Heffernan 
 mounted on a big hunter ! 
 
 " By God ! " I said under my breath, but Augus- 
 tine Massy heard. 
 
 "Oh, Miss Heffernan," he said casually. 
 
 This casual manner shocked me, even though I 
 knew Augustine Massy to be casual in all things. 
 Had he not seen this wonder ? The manner in 
 which the hunter whisked his tail, trotting with 
 the light movement of an animal of blood who rates 
 his going lightly — this, too, seemed frightfully 
 casual for the burden he held on his back. 
 
 " By God ! " I said softly again. It was the only 
 expression which could voice my amazement. 
 
 " She's riding out a week or more now," said 
 Augustine Massy, " tutored by Kish." 
 
 I had been losing track of developments in 
 Deerpark. I had been spending too much time at 
 the marble quarries ; I was too anxious about the 
 cutting of the line of rail down through the hills. 
 The grand manner of Kish Massy in leading the 
 little cavalcade along the road made my lips tighten 
 over my teeth. 
 
 " But," said Augustine Massy in his hollow 
 lifeless voice, " the sorra much tutoring she wanted : 
 'tis in the blood." 
 
 Miss Heffernan rode easily. Her figure in the 
 
KISH MASSY 135 
 
 riding habit was about right. I imagined I had 
 seen her in that garb, on that very hunter, big and 
 easy, whisking his tail, quite often. The very knot 
 of the yellow hair at the back of the hard hat 
 appeared trite and as I had always known it. 
 Bringing up the rear of the cavalcade was Barlow, 
 the coachman, something deprecating and humorous 
 in his appearance as he trotted along. The phaeton 
 jolted round a turn in the road ; the bundle of furs 
 rocked ; Kish Massy, leaning his hand on the 
 haunch of his hunter for a moment, turned back 
 to say something to Miss Heffernan, his face smiling 
 pleasantly ; Miss Heffernan urged her mount to a 
 smarter pace, her long body pressing a little forward 
 as she " humoured " the saddle ; Barlow quickened 
 his pace, too, and they all disappeared round a bend 
 in the road. 
 
 " I suppose you saw the new trotter ? " Augustine 
 Massy asked. 
 
 " What trotter ? " 
 
 " Miss Heffernan's American trotter." 
 
 " N— no." 
 
 " That's curious. A great stepper altogether, 
 and a lovely trap for him, too. Bought from Kish 
 the trotter was." 
 
 I walked away from Augustine Massy, making 
 up by the brow of the quarries to a wooden structure, 
 not unlike a bungalow, right at the head of the pits, 
 which we called the office and which was now 
 deserted, the timekeeper and the clerks having 
 gone away to their dinner. 
 
136 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 II 
 
 I sank into a chair, put my legs up on the safe, 
 and looked out the office window, composing myself 
 for a consideration of the new situation. Having 
 seen what I had just seen, it seemed to me absurd 
 that Miss Heffernan had not gone on horseback 
 long ago ; she could not help thinking the same 
 thing herself. She had been a victim of environ- 
 ment. Those about her had assumed she would 
 not want to ride because her early education in that 
 way had been neglected. She had been considered 
 in her proper place in a fine carriage and she had 
 accepted that view. It was only when somebody 
 keen enough to make good an early neglect had 
 come along that she had found herself on horseback. 
 Next season she would be riding to the hounds ! 
 
 " Another score for Kish Massy \ " I thought 
 grimly. 
 
 There was a knock at the office door, and I turned 
 my head in some annoyance. At the door stood a 
 young lad, a messenger who carried certain dispatches 
 between Betty Carolan and myself, a very discreet 
 boy. His discretion arose solely from the fact that 
 he was both deaf and dumb. He made some pas- 
 sages of the hands, smiled, came forward, handed 
 me a letter and went away again. 
 
 The letter read — 
 
 " Kilbeg Mills, 
 
 " Friday. 
 " Dear Paul, — You know the story of the 
 pitcher which goes once too often to the well ? I 
 
KISH MASSY 137 
 
 am afraid the same story holds good about our -dear 
 University : we have gone there once too often. 
 You may remember that when we were coming 
 out of the avenue on Monday evening a horseman 
 went by on the road. I am sure he saw us, and 
 that horseman was Augustine Massy. So our 
 secret is out at last. I am quite sure father has 
 heard about it. He has since been frightfully 
 cantankerous, in one of his ' touchy ' moods. In 
 the evenings he sits before the fire, black as a cloud, 
 smoking and behaving very badly. He scowls into 
 the fire, pushes out his lips, sucks them in, grunts, 
 shifts on his chair, making faces at the coals. Now 
 and then he mutters, ' Ha ! ' or ' Ho I ' or ' He ! ' 
 Sometimes he says, ' Indeed ! ' or ' Well, to be sure,' 
 or ' Why not, bedad ? ' or ' We'll see about that.' I 
 know what he is thinking ; I can read him like a 
 book. And what a surly old book it is ! Why 
 need people be so very cross about other people ? 
 I sometimes wonder if he has ever been young 
 himself, and if so if he ever went out to meet anybody 
 of an evening. To-day he was worse. ' Too much 
 liberty you have, me lass,' he said to me, ' I had 
 a right to keep you down.' That's his whole 
 gospel : keeping somebody down. I wonder he 
 ever trusted himself to call me into the world at all. 
 But I expect it was not myself he was expecting at 
 all ! To make matters worse, Barlow, the coachman, 
 came here yesterday evening with -a message from 
 Miss Heffernan to say that Mr. Carolan would 
 please not to supply any more grain or flour to 
 Deerpark as orders were placed elsewhere. That 
 
138 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 added to father's lovely mood. He is like a dead 
 weight in the home ever since. I wonder why the 
 order for the grain was cancelled ? Do you think 
 we ought to abandon our studies at the University ? 
 
 "Yours, 
 
 " Betty. 
 " P.S.— Let them all go to hell.— B." 
 
 The University to which Betty referred was a 
 little wayside schoolhouse. In an avenue at the 
 back of that schoolhouse, after pupils and teachers 
 had fled, we were in the habit of meeting. We had 
 so far succeeded in keeping ourselves from becoming 
 the subject of gossip, not alone because of the 
 delicacy of the situation at Deerpark but because 
 of Betty's father, a cantankerous old miller whose 
 mind worked like some of the aged cogwheels on 
 the machinery of his old mill. When I read this 
 letter from Betty I knew that our secret was out, 
 and I expected that Kish Massy would make an 
 unscrupulous use of it at Deerpark. I connected 
 the discovery directly with the other things that 
 had happened. The figure of Kish Massy, vulgar 
 and potent, rose up before my mind's eye like a 
 monstrous threat. 
 
 I walked over to Deerpark that evening when I 
 left the marble quarries. The old phaeton was 
 turning out the entrance gate as I arrived ; there 
 was a movement in the bundle of furs, I heard 
 Lady Newell's voice, and the phaeton pulled up. I 
 stepped up to her. She put out a white hand, 
 shapely, firm, expressive, and through a breach in 
 
KISH MASSY 139 
 
 the furs I got a glimpse of the face of the beauty 
 and beside it the head of a diminutive sable Pome- 
 ranian pup. I was aware of a faint smell of decay 
 exhaling from the old phaeton, and possibly from 
 the old coachman and the old horse. All three 
 looked and smelled as if they had been buried for 
 some time and then dug up again. 
 
 We had some polite speech. 
 
 " I have seen the good Marie," Lady Newell said. 
 " She has now taken to the saddle." 
 
 " So I have seen." 
 
 " And this Massy, this Kish, he is stout and 
 nimble of the legs, a hunter great." 
 
 " No better tutor could be found," I said. 
 
 " And now he stalks the good doe in her park," 
 said Lady Newell. She put her mouth to the black 
 ear of the Pomeranian and said to him, ' La, la, ma 
 petite, he will bring the good doe down ! ' . . . 
 Au revolt, Monsieur Paul." 
 
 She drove away. As I walked up the drive I 
 felt my ears burning. 
 
 In Deerpark there was very little stir. Miss 
 Heffernan did not make an appearance. I rang for 
 Mrs. Briscoe after some time. The housekeeper 
 looked worried. 
 
 " Miss Heffernan is not well this afternoon," she 
 said. 
 
 " Nothing serious I hope ? " 
 
 " I hope not." The Shah squealed at the door, 
 Briscoe crossed the room to let him in. He came 
 to the fire slowly with a slightly offended expression, 
 then settled down on the hearthrug. 
 
140 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 " Miss Heffernan," I said, " looked in perfect 
 health to-day, riding a hunter." 
 
 " Perhaps that has something to do with her 
 headache. She's got a very bad headache. But 
 then I'm not surprised." Briscoe, seeing that I 
 was anxious for information, liked to compel me 
 to drag it out of her. 
 
 " Why are you not surprised ? " I asked. 
 
 " Considering the way she cried her eyes out in 
 her room last night. Something dreadful." 
 
 " What on earth made her cry ? " 
 
 " I don't know, I'm sure, Mr. Jennings. She's 
 had attacks of it on and off. I don't like it. And 
 I am afraid there will be another attack to-night. 
 I can see it coming on. I must steep some brown 
 paper in vinegar." 
 
 She left the room quietly, the Shah following her. 
 I did not tarry very long in the library and when 
 leaving I instinctively walked lightly. Silence 
 reigned in the house. There was no sign of the 
 lamps being lighted although darkness was settling 
 down. The sight of the dim corridor, the vacant 
 staircase, the heavy shadows along by the walls, 
 the stillness of the place, gave me a strong impres- 
 sion of gloom, of sorrow, almost of tragedy. I 
 stole quietly out of the house. And I left it with a 
 feeling that for the first time there was a definite 
 breach in the relations between Miss Heff ernan and 
 myself. 
 
KISH MASSY 141 
 
 in 
 
 At home that night I sat before the fire thinking 
 out the whole position. Why, I asked myself again, 
 had Miss Heffernan cut me off in a matter of busi- 
 ness ? She had made purchases of horses, of a 
 dogcart, ended one of my contracts for the supply 
 of grain, without consulting me. After all, had I 
 not a right to be consulted ? . . . But had not Miss 
 Heffernan a perfect right to order her own life, her 
 own affairs, as she thought proper ? Had she done 
 anything more than assert a very ordinary personal 
 independence ? But was it an assertion of indepen- 
 dence, or did it betray her first surrender to a new 
 influence ? Were these transactions by their very 
 nature unlike the Miss Heffernan I had known ? 
 And why was Miss Heffernan given to these distresses 
 in the secrecy of her chamber at night ? And why 
 were my own heartstrings touched at the thought 
 of these distresses ? Had I the right to sympathize 
 in so intimate a way ? I could not shut off my 
 life in Deerpark, the things I had lived through 
 with Miss Heffernan. The bond was there. And 
 was all this a disloyalty to Betty ? . . . I felt 
 racked between the conflict of all these thoughts. 
 Why had I not one supreme passion in my life, a 
 passion powerful enough to absorb within it all 
 other emotions, making for me a great content ? 
 Are the scratchings that men leave on the disc of 
 their generation only a record of little frets, protests, 
 discontents, strivings, disloyalties, struggles, cries 
 of pain ? 
 
142 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 As the coals glowed, died, falling to ashes in the 
 grate, so did my thoughts burn, fade, and pass away. 
 When I rose to go to bed I was merely in a more 
 pensive mood than when I had sat down. And as I 
 mounted the stairs the conviction came to me that 
 something was about to happen at Deerpark that 
 would change everything and everybody. The 
 discovery of my affair with Betty Carolan could 
 not have been made at a more delicate or fatal 
 moment. I knew that Kish Massj/ would make a 
 skilful use of it in furtherance of his own ends. . . . 
 How carefully, how splendidly as we thought, had 
 Betty and myself guarded our secret ! I had no 
 idea that lovers could be so amazingly resourceful ; 
 they are as cunning, as audacious, as tricky, as 
 deceptive as criminals ! How often had Betty 
 and myself laughed in gleeful derision at the world 
 we hoodwinked, the friends we deceived ? And 
 there had always been the possibility — to Betty the 
 thrill of mysterious delight, making danger a joyous 
 part of her other emotions — of discovery. I read 
 her letter again when I reached my bedroom. And 
 when I had read it my mind went back to the 
 wind-swept, lonely schoolhouse. It was there, as 
 Betty used to say, we received our higher education. 
 ... I smiled as I remembered an evening of storm 
 and rain, when Betty and myself had to cling to 
 the narrow doorstep of the University because 
 shelter was not to be had anywhere else. We 
 clung, hand upon hand, to the doorknob, sparring 
 at each other with the other hands like a pair of 
 kittens, shouting things because the wind was too 
 
KISH MASSY 143 
 
 high for conversation. The maps of the world 
 rattled on the walls inside, some slates were blown 
 off the roof. Betty shouted, " They're conferring 
 degrees ! " But a terrific report behind the door — 
 the blackboard was blown off its easel — suddenly 
 made her spring clean from the step, and she made 
 for the little gate, her young, sinuous body in a 
 transparent bright blue oilcoat, so that her move- 
 ment looked like the vivid flight of a kingfisher in 
 the half-light. . . . Then I remembered Miss 
 Heffernan and her hours of weeping, and the figure 
 of Kish Massy rose to my mind's eye, and I groaned 
 at the thought that some day — perhaps soon, if 
 something was not done — he would be the master 
 of all that estate, of that fine house, of all that wealth 
 and the power which the mastership of Deerpark 
 carried. I drew on my pyjamas with a feeling of 
 great unhappiness and rolled painfully into bed. 
 
 I lay for a long time without sleeping, a mental 
 movement of battledore and shuttlecock racking 
 my poor brain, weaving a problem which offered 
 no solution. But gradually a picture came more 
 and more vividly to me, a picture of a young girl 
 stooped over a table, writing a letter. Her shapely 
 black head bent over the white paper ; there was 
 decision in the level, silky, gleaming brows ; the 
 hand moved with firmness ; what she wrote was a 
 reply to all my doubts and distractions, the words 
 disposed of all fine distinctions, prudent anticipa- 
 tions, philosophic balancing. There was no weak 
 evasion even in the spelling out of the word. Betty 
 went straight and direct to all the problems of her 
 
144 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 life. There was no pretence, no sentimentality of 
 a poor sort, no hypocrisy. She was a woman of 
 her day, of her generation, a woman who would 
 have counted no matter what sort of life she chose 
 to live. While I lay tossing on the rack, a victim 
 to conflicting emotions, groping for something 
 definite and clear in the tangle of my life, Betty sat 
 down and wrote the words, direct, indeed with 
 something of the harshness and intolerance of 
 youth, without equivocation or compromise, which 
 now, as I lay in bed, came to me with all the force 
 of an inspired direction. For across the ceiling of 
 the dark room were the words, large as life, vivid 
 as lightning, which she had written — 
 " P.S.— Let them all go to hell.— B." 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 MISS HEFFERNAN was not able to con- 
 tinue her riding exercises that season. In 
 fact she became quite ill and was altogether 
 confined to her rooms, so that I did not again see 
 her until we were quite near to the Christmas 
 festival. She was anxious about a fete to the 
 children on the Deerpark estate, and as I had, as 
 usual, charge of the arrangements, Mrs. Briscoe 
 informed me that Miss Heffernan would be glad if 
 I joined her in a quiet cup of tea in her boudoir so 
 that she might hear the details of the arrangements. 
 She was still unable to move about the house. 
 
 I had only been in that room of Miss Heffernan' s 
 a few times during the years of my connexion with 
 Deerpark. It was one of the rooms which she had 
 preserved during the period of her poverty, and for 
 that reason I think she cherished it. Briscoe 
 showed me in, saying Miss Heffernan would be 
 with me very soon. It was a longish, narrow room, 
 tapestries on the wall, the quaint figures of which 
 used to puzzle me very much in the years gone by. 
 The room was lighted by a large standard lamp 
 10 145 
 
146 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 with a pink shade, and the quaint figures on the 
 tapestries were in this light more elusive than ever. 
 I looked around the room, which at once struck 
 me as rather crowded, almost congested. It was 
 a woman's room in every respect and expressed the 
 temperament of its occupant. The personal note 
 was obvious even in its lack of order. In the 
 furniture, the draperies, the work-baskets, the 
 flowers, the pictures, the few pieces of statuary, the 
 odds and ends scattered about, there was, I said to 
 myself, a homely carelessness. A little square 
 table near one of the windows drew the eye irresis- 
 tibly ; it jumped out from the gay disorder of the 
 room. For upon it was a pile of little stiff forms 
 with cream and rosebud complexions and stout 
 pink arms. They lay at all angles, startling in their 
 effect. I crossed to the table to have a closer look. 
 It was a pile of baby dolls, pink and white chubby 
 images in long white clothes, some lying backwards, 
 with their eyes closed, others upright, their glassy 
 orbs staring vacantly across the room. The sight 
 of these dolls gave me a most peculiar sensation, 
 such a sensation that I glanced around the room to 
 make sure that nobody had caught me gazing upon 
 them. I wondered vaguely if the passion for 
 dressing all these dumb pink staring creatures had 
 any affinity to the change which had come over 
 Miss Heffernan's life the day we ^had met the 
 beggarwoman on the road ? Was there anything 
 peculiar, abnormal, in this craze for dressing baby 
 dolls ? On another table near by were other dolls, 
 > but not many, some gorgeous ladies in wedding 
 
KISH MASSY 147 
 
 and court dresses, one or two with vivid red petti- 
 coats, grey shawls wrapped about their shoulders, 
 red speckled handkerchiefs on their heads, in 
 imitation of the local peasant women. Several of 
 these dolls were only half robed ; in one or two 
 cases the neligee of the gorgeous court ladies was 
 quite scandalous. It was plain that Miss Heffernan 
 had grown tired of them before their costumes 
 had been completed. There was some pathos in 
 their neglect, lying so stiffly there in the debris of 
 material ends, skeins of thread, lengths of ribbon, 
 gold braid, fluffy gay coloured' pieces of chiffon, 
 tinsels, bright beads. I walked uneasily away 
 from the table piled up with the baby dolls, and as 
 I went to the fire-place my foot crunched on some- 
 thing on the hearthrug. I stooped down and 
 picked up a scissors which had fallen there. As 
 I put it on the chimney-piece I noticed that here 
 again were all kinds of odds and ends, remnants of 
 bright materials. They looked like an attempt 
 to do the chimney-piece out with bunting. And 
 gradually, while I waited, I became aware that 
 the disorder of the boudoir was not as I remembered 
 it ; there was something more than a normal 
 carelessness in the room. My eyes wandered over 
 the chairs, the stools, the couches, the numerous 
 little tables and whatnots. A work-basket with 
 pale blue silk lining had fallen behind a table and 
 lay on the ground with its contents tumbled out. 
 A bookcase between two windows looked as if it had 
 been ransacked : volumes lay here, there, and 
 everywhere ; those on the shelves were at sixes and 
 
148 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 sevens. Miss Heffernan had evidently been glancing 
 at a great many of them and as in the case of the 
 half-dressed dolls they had failed to hold her interest ; 
 she had grown tired of them, dropping them when- 
 ever the feeling of boredom had attacked her. On 
 her secretaire a half-written letter lay on a blotting 
 pad ; a bottle of ink had rolled on to the carpet. 
 Cushions trailed from one seat to another, looking 
 as if they had been used for some short while and 
 then impatiently tossed elsewhere. It all expressed 
 the temperament of one who had not alone indulged 
 in the luxury of carelessness in her own particular 
 boudoir, but one who had become nervous, irritable, 
 ill. I had -an impression of Miss Heffernan moving 
 about that room hour after hour, endeavouring to 
 interest herself in things which were losing their 
 appeal, in spasmodic efforts at distractions which 
 were no longer a distraction but an agony. I could 
 see the evidence of those bitter little struggles where 
 the threads of her normal life were slipping from 
 her fingers ; I could quite realize now the moments 
 of breakdown when those attacks of weeping 
 overcame ' her, when the headaches Mrs. Briscoe 
 had spoken of brought about physical prostration. 
 Perhaps it was in this very chair at my elbow that 
 Miss Heffernan had sunk in an hour of utter misery. 
 The pathos of the room in its dim pink light was 
 deepened almost to tragedy for me as my eye caught 
 the outline of the harp beyond the disordered 
 bookcase. An uncomfortable feeling burned at 
 the back of my neck as I gazed upon it ; I shifted 
 my position, a little impatient at being left so long 
 
KISH MASSY 149 
 
 there, gazing upon the eloquent background of a 
 pathos almost menacing to my sight. 
 
 The door opened at last, but it was Briscoe who 
 entered, carrying a wax figure, quite two feet tall. 
 The figure she deposited carefully on a table and 
 retired at once. 
 
 "In a moment, Mr. Jennings," she said as she 
 went out. I saw that the figure was most magnifi- 
 cently robed, the colour scheme purple, gold shining 
 on the head, jewels sparkling on the robes. A 
 moment later Miss Heffernan entered the room 
 from an inward apartment. I was struck at once 
 with the palpable fact that she had suffered a great 
 deal. The thinness was accentuated. Her manner 
 was somewhat nervous ; she was, I thought, almost 
 unsteady in some of her steps. Her voice had, if 
 anything, grown more gentle ; she had scarcely 
 entered the room when I was conscious of that 
 subtle womanly quality which had always made 
 our intercourse so delicately precious. A wave of 
 sympathy, intimate and poignant, seized me the 
 moment I beheld the ugly physical effects of a 
 profound distress. 
 
 " Dr 0' Sullivan says it was rather a bad attack 
 of influenza," she said in reply to my inquiry, " but 
 I am shaking it off." Her eyes looked around the 
 room, uncertain, almost wandering. "I'm afraid 
 this is rather a dangerous place for His Majesty," 
 she said. " Somebody may tilt him over." She 
 took up the wax figure Briscoe had laid on the table 
 and conveyed it to a cabinet. " Won't you come 
 and look at these figures, Mr. Jennings ? " she said. 
 
i 5 o THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 On the shelf of the cabinet were other figures 
 much the same size, and I saw at once that they 
 were a group, almost complete, to represent the 
 Nativity, the scene in the stable at Bethlehem, the 
 figures of a Christmas Crib. They were arresting 
 and striking in the suggestion of strong, eternal, 
 primitive drama. I looked on them with an eye 
 that held something higher and better than a mere 
 critical gaze. Miss Heffernan was very quick to 
 interpret my impressions. 
 
 " I always like to see the Crib at Christmas, 
 too," she said. " I often say to myself, ' There 
 is the scene by which all Christianity must stand or 
 fall.' And I like to see the scene set out with the 
 greatest simplicity." 
 
 " You have certainly gone to pains in the rob- 
 ing of the figures/' I said. 
 
 " Yes," she agreed, " I think the nuns in Ballyrea 
 will like them very well." 
 
 " You are sending them there ? " 
 
 " Yes ; the suggestion was made to me by Mr. 
 Massy that a gift of the kind would be appreciated." 
 
 As she gazed at the figures, re-grouping them 
 more carefully in the cabinet, I thought to myself 
 that Kish Massy had come very much into her 
 intimate life, her personal interests. There was 
 no limit to his tastes, his talents. He had pleased 
 and flattered Miss Heffernan by suggesting this 
 gift ; no doubt he would also levy a tax on the nuns 
 in the shape of prayers and make a heavy entry on 
 the credit side of the private ledger he kept with 
 St. Peter. Knowing his peculiar spiritual outlook 
 
KISH MASSY 151 
 
 I said to myself, " God help the next man he sets 
 out to do ! " 
 
 " They look quite handsome," I said to Miss 
 Heffernan. 
 
 " I was anxious to make the gift worth while," 
 she said. " Do you admire the three Kings ? " 
 She turned them about so that I could the better 
 view them. 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " the three Wise Men who 
 followed the star are quite familiar and suggestive." 
 
 ' You see the crowns better now in that light ? 
 They are of beaten gold and studded with sapphires 
 and diamonds. The caskets in which they bear 
 the gifts of frankincense and myrrh are also gold, 
 made specially in Dublin from my own design. 
 The cloak of the coloured King is hemmed with fine 
 pearls ; I worked them in very carefully myself. 
 I think real simplicity lies in the contrast of these 
 rich costumes with the plaids of the shepherds, the 
 dull brown of St. Joseph, and the blue and white 
 of the Virgin." 
 
 •' The nuns must certainly be delighted," I said. 
 
 She closed the glass door of the cabinet, laughing 
 with pleasure, a short nervous laugh. But it was 
 obvious that Kish Massy had given her the only 
 interest that had appealed to her, the only little 
 enthusiasm she had enjoyed for some time past. 
 The pilgrim who had brought back great news 
 from the holy Mecca of the Bush had also found, 
 good things to do at home. She drew a shawl 
 which rested on her shoulders more closely about 
 her as if a draught had touched her. I was aware 
 
152 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 of little twitches of the head now and again, the 
 result of great nervousness, which she found diffi- 
 culty in suppressing. 
 
 " So you have secured the schools for the fete ? " 
 she said, moving to the fire. 
 
 " Yes," I said. She moved by the table on 
 which the baby dolls were all piled, a strange 
 medley, a nightmare of maternity, and her shawl 
 almost touched them ; for a moment she paused 
 as if about to say something of them, then passed 
 on in silence. I followed, paused for a moment at 
 the same place, about to say something of them, 
 then conscious of her hesitancy I, too, ignored them. 
 
 " I think everything will pass off all right at the 
 fete," I said as we sat down by the fire. 
 
 ii 
 
 As we discussed the Christmas fete I was all the 
 time reminded of her nervous movements, the 
 twitchings of her body, the pathos of her condition. 
 More than once she shifted her armchair, extremely 
 sensitive to the slightest draught. Indeed, I think 
 she imagined the draughts as coming from all 
 quarters of the room. 
 
 " Would you mind shifting that screen more to 
 the door ? " she asked. 
 
 I jumped up at once to obey. In shifting the 
 draught screen I knocked a book from a little 
 table ; picking it up the volume opened at a page 
 where there was a bookmark. It was a volume of 
 Keats' poems, bound in red leather, and some of 
 
KISH MASSY 153 
 
 the words on the marked page were underlined. 
 The poem was Keats' rendering of " Isabella " 
 from the stories of Boccacio, and my eyes ran down 
 the marked lines, which I read very rapidly, they 
 were^so familiar to me — 
 
 " They could not in the selfsame mansion dwell 
 Without some stir of heart, some malady ; 
 
 They could not sit at meals but feel how well 
 It soothed each to be the other by ; 
 
 They could not, sure, beneath the same roof sleep 
 But to each other dream, and nightly weep." 
 
 I put the book quietly away and resumed my 
 seat at the fire. But now and again, as we con- 
 tinued a somewhat strained conversation, my mind 
 wandered back to the underlined verse, to the 
 double pencil lines under the last three lines " and 
 nightly weep." . . . What had Mrs. Briscoe said 
 about disturbing attacks of weeping ? I looked 
 at the wan eyes, the heavy marks under the 
 lashes, on Miss Heffernan's face. What was the 
 stir of heart, the malady, which had stricken her ? 
 Why was that room in its present condition ? Why 
 was I there alone with her, sitting by the fire, 
 talking inconsequent small talk ? An old sickening 
 feeling of unhappiness came to me. The atmo- 
 sphere of the room seemed to weigh like a heavy 
 panting body about us. 
 
 1 You will have a cup of tea, Mr. Jennings ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 ' Yes, delighted," I said, my own manner catch- 
 ing some of her nervousness. 
 
 She rang the bell and a maid brought us a tray. 
 
154 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 As Miss Heffernan raised the silver teapot it quivered 
 in her hand, as if the weight of it was too much for 
 her, but I had to ignore this distress. She knocked 
 the china cups together, all her movements now 
 shaky. It seemed as if at odd moments she quaked 
 at some hidden fear ; she started once or twice, her 
 eyes going to the door, ,as if she expected somebody 
 to burst into the room and attack her. What was 
 she afraid of ? She used to be a singularly self- 
 possessed woman, calm and fearless in her outlook. 
 I could not help feeling that she had been brought 
 under some influence which had dominated her 
 will, taken from her the tranquillity which had been 
 a personal heritage and part of her individuality, 
 her charm. What was she afraid of ? The sinister 
 figure of Kish Massy rose up in my mind's eye. I 
 remembered him as he had sat on the throne of 
 the reception-room proclaiming his adventures in 
 Australia, putting forward all that personal magnet- 
 ism, the reserve battery of his vigorous character, 
 while Miss Heffernan gazed at him with parted lips. 
 He had, I told myself, gazing on the sugar-tongs 
 she poised shakily over the tea-cup, since found 
 opportunities for asserting his influence in this 
 house, and the result was to be seen in the present 
 condition of things. He had found a simple, an 
 unwary, and to some extent a weak subject, and 
 I knew he would have no scruple about taking 
 advantage of the situation. 
 
 " How many lumps ? " Miss Heffernan asked. 
 
 " Two, please." 
 
 She sat down, a little sigh escaping her, and as 
 
KISH MASSY 155 
 
 she sank back on the cushions I noted the frailness 
 of her long body. I almost cried out as I thought 
 of the vulgar, aggressive brute taking that sensitive, 
 refined, almost broken creature to his embrace. 
 And yet what could I do, what could I say, how 
 could I raise any sort of honest protest ? To do 
 so would place me in a possession of the utmost 
 embarrassment again. As the thoughts crowded 
 like gloomy things about the fire-place a silence 
 ensued and we sipped our tea. . 
 
 In the midst of the gloomy silence something 
 fell on the floor with a dull, ugly thud, striking the 
 bare boards near the wall. I glanced around 
 apprehensively, and Miss Heffernan glanced around, 
 too. It was one of the baby dolls which had fallen 
 from the table and now lay with its broken face 
 against the wall, an arm, split to the shoulder, 
 hanging from the draped body. I had an impulse 
 to jump to the rescue of this broken figure, but 
 suddenly checked it. Miss Heffernan pulled her 
 shawl about her shoulders as if she felt a cold 
 draught and we resumed the sipping of our tea 
 without speaking. 
 
 " Another cake ? " 
 
 She jerked up in her chair, rousing herself from 
 a little reverie, as if it had suddenly occurred to 
 her that she had been neglecting me. 
 
 " Yes, thanks — just this one." 
 
 " You have still the old taste for the cream puffs," 
 she said, with the flicker of a smile. 
 
 ' Yes," I said, " they are as delicious as ever on 
 the tongue." 
 
156 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 She sank back again, inert, moody, her eyes on 
 the fire. There could be no doubt that she was 
 ill and in an unaccountable way changed. I knew 
 instinctively that she feared I would understand, 
 sympathize, pity her. Her pride was ready to 
 spring to the defence. To silence the impatience, 
 the agony, of my own thoughts I told myself, " You 
 are only a dog in the manger. You did not respond 
 to this woman's advances, and now you storm 
 inwardly and impotently because another offers to 
 her his affections, such as they are." 
 
 " I hope we shall have frost and snow — an 
 old-fashioned Christmas," she said. 
 
 " I hope so, too. It is always more pleasant." 
 
 While the platitudes dropped from our lips over 
 the quiet cup of tea my mind stormed in silence. 
 " Bah ! " I said to myself. " He offers her no sort 
 of affection. He simply schemes to get hold of her 
 estate, her house, her property, her wealth ; he has 
 dreamt of all the power, influence and prestige the 
 mastership of Deerpark carries. She herself, the 
 woman, the personality, is the least thing in his 
 thoughts. He regards her as fair game for his 
 ambitions. Affection indeed ! " 
 
 " I always think rain is so dreary, so unhealthy, 
 about Christmas," said Miss Heffernan. "So many 
 people get knocked up with colds." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, quite a great many. Dr. O'Sullivan 
 always gets a brisk running about during a green 
 Christmas." 
 
 And my thoughts cried within me, " Lady 
 Newell has said the bitter but the true thing about 
 
KISH MASSY 157 
 
 this monstrous wooing. He simply stalks the good 
 doe in her park. Once, long ago, in the first un- 
 guarded moments, he himself likened her to a wild 
 hare. . . . That is the measure of his interest in 
 her. It is because I had affection, and that I have 
 still affection, nay veneration, for this woman that 
 I shrink from entering into competition with Kish 
 Massy in this unholy hunt/' 
 
 " I am very glad Lady Newell has set herself to 
 
 paint Christmas cards and fans for us," said Miss 
 
 Heffernan. " She has quite a talent for that sort 
 
 of thing." 
 
 " All our neighbours will give a helping hand," I said. 
 
 " Affections indeed ! " my thoughts cried. " He 
 never got so near to the woman as I did, or under- 
 stood her, or appreciated her, and he never will." 
 
 " Another cup ? " 
 
 I handed over the cup and she reached out to the 
 little table. As she did so her eyes wandered to the 
 door as if that hidden, secret fear came to her again. 
 I was conscious myself of something lurking, some- 
 thing threatening, in the shadows of the room. 
 The very stillness of the place, the vague pink light, 
 the disorder of the room, the spectral babies staring 
 with their glassy eyes into vacancy, brought to me 
 an unhealthy sensation. 
 
 "Thanks," I said, taking the cup from Miss 
 Heffernan. 
 
 She tarried over the tea-table, then said, " May I 
 say something of a personal, rather delicate, nature 
 to you, Mr. Jennings ? " she asked. 
 
 " Certainly," I said at once, looking up at her. 
 
158 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 " I hope you won't be angry with me," she said, then 
 settled back in her seat. " While we sit here quietly 
 is the best time to speak of it." There was a nervous 
 quality in her voice, but she spoke with a certain clear 
 decision. The tea seemed to have braced her. 
 
 " What I wanted to say," she ventured, her eyes 
 on the fire, " was that in case there is any change 
 here — in case I make any change in my life — that 
 you will still continue as agent of the estate and 
 manager of the property." 
 
 There was no mistaking the words. I knew Miss 
 Heffernan long enough to gauge the delicacy of 
 her mind, and I knew now that this was almost a 
 formal announcement of the success of Kish Massy' s 
 campaign. She had already surrendered, or was 
 on the point of surrendering to him. All the wealth 
 and power that Deerpark held was already within 
 the grasp of the red, twitching fingers. There could 
 be no other change. There was significance in the 
 very tone of her voice, in the expression of her face, 
 in a sudden clutching of the ends of the shawl, in 
 the quiver of the pale lashes on the dark skin under 
 the eyes, the eyes which gazed upon the fire. I 
 stirred the spoon about in my cup and as I did so I 
 was not alone conscious of the significance of Miss 
 Heffernan's words, but gradually I was conscious, 
 too, that she awaited my reply, waited and, perhaps, 
 hoped for words that would decide the whole future 
 course of both our lives. And as I moved the 
 spoon about in the cup, the thought challenged 
 me .: "Is this to give you a last chance ? Does not 
 everything hang upon this pregnant moment ? " 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 OF course," I said to Miss Heffernan, "my 
 place in the Deerpark organization is a 
 traditional one." 
 
 " Yes," Miss Heffernan agreed, her eyes rather 
 lighting up, " it would be strange if one of your 
 family did not follow the tradition." 
 
 I could feel that she waited my further words 
 with a new hope. Something came to life in her 
 face. She seemed to shake off that gloom, that 
 hidden fear, which haunted her. 
 
 " On account of that tradition," I continued, " I 
 should feel very much cutting my connexion with 
 Deerpark. It would be like attacking something 
 lying at the very roots of my own life." 
 
 She nodded in entire understanding, in complete 
 sympathy. Both of us had that conservative 
 worship of tradition which is of the very essence 
 and spirit of the aristocrat and of the peasant. 
 Customs, institutions, all things sanctified by time, 
 founded on an unbroken lineage, had a powerful 
 appeal to Miss Heffernan and to myself ; they were 
 a creed, a religion, to us. 
 
 " So long," I said, "as I have to follow the 
 
 159 
 
160 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 tradition and that my service is to you yourself as 
 a Heffernan — as one in the apostolic succession, as 
 I might say — I shall be very glad to serve/' 
 
 " Yes, yes/' she agreed quickly. "I can under- 
 stand all that." 
 
 " But," I added deliberately, " if the Heffernan 
 ownership of Deerpark is broken, then that moment 
 I cut my connexion with the estate." 
 
 " All that I can understand/' she said. " I did 
 not mean that I was to cease as controller of the 
 property." 
 
 " Then the change does not affect me," I said. 
 " I shall have very great pleasure in continuing in 
 the management of the property if you desire me to 
 do so." 
 
 " Yes, I desire you to do so," she said, but I could 
 see something die in her face. The hope vanished. 
 My words were evidently not the words she expected. 
 She had an idea, it was clear to me, that they would 
 have led to something more intimate. She lay 
 back in her chair like one exhausted. I put down 
 my cup on the little table that stood between us. 
 
 " I hope, Miss Heffernan," I said, " that the 
 change in your life which, you contemplate will be a 
 happy one." 
 
 She made no immediate answer. Her eyes were 
 gazing into the fire, strained, tense, troubled, as if 
 she would unearth mysteries from the heart of the 
 flames. Slowly, very slowly, she detached herself 
 from the fire and looked at me. It was such a look 
 as one might bestow on a friend from whom one 
 was parting for ever. 
 
KISH MASSY 161 
 
 " I hope so," she said in a low voice. 
 
 I could not avoid the feeling that my expression 
 of goodwill had brought to her unhappiness. Her 
 nervousness was accentuated. She looked as if 
 the hidden fear of something had come to her more 
 powerfully than ever. It was so powerful that I 
 had myself again that sense of something disturbing 
 and threatening in the shadows of the room. By 
 little impatient movements I knew that she was 
 now anxious to conclude the interview, to get me 
 out of the room. My heart was crying out weak, 
 vain, impossible things, my spirit was heavy because 
 the woman beside me suffered so intensely. 
 
 I rose to go. She rose slowly, too, her back to 
 the fire. A feeling that the parting was the closing 
 down of something in both our lives made the 
 moments oppressive. I considered for a little, 
 trying to think of words to speak which might 
 lighten the poignancy of this parting. I could 
 think of nothing to say, however, and moved away 
 from the fire-place. My eyes caught the white 
 shape of the baby doll lying shattered behind the 
 table, its broken face to the wall, and I was aware 
 that Miss Heffernan was slowly accompanying me 
 to the door. But I stood abruptly, an impulse 
 coming to me that I did not wish the servants to see 
 us shake hands at the door. 
 
 " Good-bye," I said, and I could not control the 
 emotion which sounded in my voice. 
 
 She gave me her hand slowly. 
 
 " Good-bye," she said in a lifeless tone. 
 
 I pressed her hand, and as I did so I could not 
 ii 
 
162 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 refrain from bending down and kissing fervently 
 the thin hand which burned in mine. I could feel 
 the little tremor which shook her frame. She 
 stooped forward in a sudden impulse and almost 
 with motherly gentleness kissed me on the brow, 
 one quick burning kiss. 
 
 " Dear boy/' she murmured. It was the ex- 
 pression she had used in the library — how long 
 ago ? — ages, generations, it seemed to me. The 
 room, with its weird stack of sleeping and staring 
 baby dolls, with its kings and shepherds, its gorgeous 
 ladies, its littered floors, seemed unreal and far off. 
 A curious feeling of faint ness swept me. I was 
 only dimly conscious that we had already parted, 
 that I had come there either for a parting or a 
 complete understanding — that some last desperate 
 effort had been made to stave something off — that 
 once more I had been a failure, a disappointment, 
 that I had made more miserable than ever the life 
 of one cherished and venerated — that in life it is 
 those who are near to each other, precious to each 
 other, who alone stab each other, who have it in 
 their power to inflict the most bitter wounds. As 
 if she were very far off I saw Miss Heffernan's figure 
 silhouetted against the red light of the fire for a 
 moment and then sink into an armchair, and her 
 figure sank as if I, an assassin, had struck her a 
 mortal blow. I turned from the sight, groping my 
 way for the door in the pink light like a half-blind 
 man, found the handle, hurried out and down 
 the corridor to the library, where I sank in the 
 chair before the desk. A sudden burst of laughter, 
 
KISH MASSY 163 
 
 the response to some crude jest, sounded through 
 the open window from the garden down below 
 where the workmen were going by. 
 
 I sat in a mechanical attitude of work at the 
 writing-desk and rolled up the lid. I took some 
 letters from the pigeon-holes and looked at them, 
 though not a written word was intelligible to my 
 sight. I leaned my elbows down on the desk, 
 staring blankly at the wall opposite. Then I lay 
 back in the chair, saying to myself, " I must sit here 
 for some time. I must recover some measure of 
 composure. Perhaps it is better that it is over, 
 though it was very painful and I had no idea when I 
 went there. . . . But I must forget all that. I must 
 regain my composure. She possibly thinks I have 
 left the house by this time, but I cannot go just yet. 
 I might meet somebody on the way, and I am too 
 agitated for that. They would possibly notice 
 something." 
 
 I put the letters back into the pigeon-holes, 
 shifted some ink-bottles and pens, tore an end off a 
 blotting-sheet, and again sat back in my chair. 
 Suddenly the chords of the harp in an amazingly 
 strong, harsh stroke came crashing down the corridor 
 outside. It seemed to tear through the silent house, 
 something volcanic in its sudden escape. I had no 
 idea that a harp could gather such strength in its 
 penetrating strains. It seemed to leap at me like 
 a living thing as I sat on the chair and it gripped 
 me there. I could not move, I could scarcely 
 breathe. I was intensely responsive to the emotion, 
 for although I play no instrument I am unusually 
 
164 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 sensitive to the influence of music ; this, again, 
 gave me some nearness to Miss Heffernan, who 
 was, I felt now more than ever, a daughter of Jubal, 
 her soul instinctively seeking self-expression through 
 the harp. The music that now held me so power- 
 fully was not any conventional composition, and at 
 first seemed not even a definite or connected 
 composition. It was ugly, terrible, the notes 
 sharp, the discords painful, but as it tore its way 
 along I felt it aimed at something and expressed 
 something. And above the harsh discords there 
 struck out, thin and sharp, a motif that surely had 
 its source in some folk tune, elemental and disturb- 
 ing. And there was a certain crude rhythm in the 
 tearing discords, the notes most powerful in their 
 harshness, urged on as it were by some velocity that 
 was vindictive, and above the brutal jargon of 
 sound was that weird, very definite motif shrilling 
 up over it all, ironic and terrible. I felt moved, 
 shaken, almost exhausted by this experience, and 
 like a flash the thought went across my mind that 
 all of emotion and hope and desire and despair that 
 lay behind the platitudes Miss Heffernan had 
 dropped in her boudoir was now speaking, clear and 
 unmistakable, in this rush of mad sound. It did 
 not come on any scale of harmony and yet with 
 terribly flexible and unashamed meaning, the child 
 of an inspiration that was itself too savage to obey 
 a form, too crude to step to a technique. 
 
 I clutched the arms of my chair and said, " This 
 is the music of something lost, this is a thing of 
 hysteria and madness ! " And as I listened I felt 
 
KISH MASSY 165 
 
 that in no way could this music be interpreted 
 except, perhaps, by the dance of a woman who 
 would have in her body and her limbs the hysteria 
 and the madness, in her face and her gestures the 
 horror of a lost soul. And instantly there came to 
 my mind the memory of a scene witnessed on a 
 little yellow road in Connemara, a scene that had 
 brought me nightmares in the years gone by. A 
 young tinker woman, comely and courageous in 
 the daring beauty of her kind, wearing a gay petti- 
 coat of red and white stripes, a blue bodice, her 
 rich brown hair tumbling about her shoulders, 
 danced in her bare feet on the road, beating up the 
 dust, something fantastic and insane in her move- 
 ments. She danced in the bright sun of a summer 
 day and she kept her face, ghastly pale, to the sun, 
 her upper white teeth showing through the blue 
 line of her lips. She had, I knew at once, danced 
 up and down the road, her eyes half closed, for a 
 longer time than a normal physical reserve would 
 allow, and she would go on dancing, seeing nothing, 
 paying attention to nothing, until she fell in a 
 swoon in the yellow dust of the lonely mountain 
 road. And as I went by that dancing mad woman, 
 I saw under a heeled-up cart in the ditch the dead 
 body of a young man, lying stark on his back, her 
 husband or her lover, but one who had died of love. 
 She was dancing up and down by the side of the 
 cart under which he lay dead, and this music which 
 now had broken forth in Deerpark was such music 
 as the limbs of that young tinker woman might have 
 interpreted, for the hysteria and the madness were 
 
166 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 in them. And it was such music as might have 
 swept the seas and the nations and all time, and 
 found its votaries. It was to music such as this 
 that the limbs of Electra might have moved before 
 the Eastern palace at the hour Arestes struck the 
 blow which brought down the traitor mother queen, 
 Clytemnestra. It was fit measure for the movements 
 of Salome when she danced before the throne of 
 Herod bearing on a dish the head of John the 
 Baptist. 
 
 " God ! " I cried, " this is the music of a 
 soul writhing under the sense of damnation ! " It 
 stopped quite suddenly, as if from exhaustion, on a 
 bar that sounded like a gash. I could visualize the 
 trembling form of the broken woman rising from 
 the harp, her bosom heaving, her hands now hanging 
 inertly by her sides as she tottered down the dis- 
 ordered room, past the figures of the kings and 
 shepherds, the baby dolls, the ladies in wedding 
 dresses, between the tapestries with the quaint 
 Biblical figures, panting in the heavy pink atmo- 
 sphere, and, having expressed in music what she 
 had hidden behind the platitudes of our tea-talk, 
 throw herself, exhausted, broken, in an agony of 
 despair, into an armchair by the fire. 
 
 ii 
 
 I closed the desk quietly, locked it, and slipped 
 out of the room. There was no movement in the 
 house that I could hear, and I stood looking appre- 
 hensively down the wide vacant corridor. The 
 
KISH MASSY 167 
 
 shadows were heavy by the walls. A streak of the 
 lingering evening light fell across the red carpet 
 where the staircase opened into the landing. Every- 
 thing — the floors, the walls, the ceilings — seemed 
 to vibrate with the weird music which had just 
 ceased, and I imagined they would hold the agony 
 of the notes for ever. It was a house of gloom, of 
 tragedy, and in this hour of agony I had a feeling 
 that the ghost of every Heffernan who had ever 
 known sorrow was crowding up the broad staircase 
 and down from the rooms overhead. I listened 
 very intently, for I could certainly hear whispering 
 from the staircase. Was it the servants who. had 
 grouped themselves there, alarmed by the sudden 
 harsh outburst of music ? What was the light 
 sound of brushing along the walls ? Could it be 
 the spirits of the race crowding down the corridor 
 to group themselves around the door of one who 
 had cried out in mortal pain ? What was that 
 curious shuffling and brushing by the walls in the 
 dim light ? Why had not the servants lit up the 
 house ? 
 
 I shuffled nervously down the stairs, and in the hall 
 my hand shook as I reached for my hat and stick. 
 A little wind was blowing, making a moan among 
 the shrubberies, and there was the sharp^scent of 
 frost when I got outside. I drew in some breaths 
 of that sharp air gratefully. The bare branches of 
 the elms were delicate and distinct, graceful tracery 
 work against the pale sky, and the atmosphere was 
 that half -luminous orange clearness which sometimes 
 transforms the hills. 
 
168 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 I had gone only some way down the drive when I 
 could hear the sound of footsteps approaching the 
 house from the entrance gate. Some oddness 
 touched me, a feeling that I was in no mood to meet 
 a possible acquaintance, and I turned in through 
 the trees and the grass of the lawn, making for a 
 side gate in the demesne wall used by the workmen. 
 When some way in through the trees I stopped, for 
 the visitor was now moving along by the shrubberies. 
 I could see the black bowler hat move along quite 
 distinctly over the laurels and the rhododendrons. 
 An inquisitiveness, instinctive and quick, came 
 to me. I watched that hat until the figure stepped 
 out into the open space of the house. I could see 
 quite distinctly in the luminous winter evening light. 
 
 It was Kish Massy who approached Deerpark. 
 Instantly his appearance became potent and vivid 
 to my mind ; I watched his figure as one might 
 watch some movement in a drama which is rarely 
 intense. Was there not something eager and at the 
 same time stealthy in his approach ? The great 
 legs swung him along in characteristic strides ; he 
 was as intent upon his approach as I was alive to 
 his movements. The house was still in darkness, 
 although it must by this time be quite dim in the 
 interior. Only a light, faint and pink, shone in 
 the window of Miss Heffernan's boudoir. I thought 
 there was something significant in the dark bulk 
 of the old house, solid, grim, almost threatening. I 
 had strongly the impression that Briscoe had charge 
 of it and that the darkness and silence were expres- 
 sive of her supervision. What was taking Kish 
 
KISH MASSY 169 
 
 Massy to Deerpark at this hour, in this romantic 
 light ? I watched his active but stealthy stride 
 to the flight of steps. He paused for an imper- 
 ceptible time there, glanced up at the windows, 
 then the active limbs pushed up the steps. Was he 
 making a call ? Was he expected ? Would he be 
 admitted ? He seemed to wipe his brow with his 
 handkerchief as he moved under the portico. He 
 looked like a man bracing himself for something ; 
 again he seemed to search the windows of the silent 
 stark house. I saw him move under one of the 
 pillars, hesitate, then put his arms about the pillar 
 and mount it like a sailor climbing up a mast. Why 
 had he behaved in this extraordinary way ? Was 
 it the old boyish love of climbing breaking out in 
 him through pure high animal spirits ? He ascended 
 the granite pillar steadily, the active arms and limbs 
 expert at the business. When he could go no 
 higher he seemed again to gaze at the blank windows 
 of the house. I beheld the performance with 
 amazement. Presently he slid down the pillar like 
 a streak, and again approached the hall-door. I 
 saw his action as he pulled at the bell. In the 
 silence I could hear the distant clang in the remote 
 kitchen. There was a short silence. Would they 
 let him in ? Had he merely come to make a polite 
 inquiry as to Miss Heffernan's health ? A light 
 moved in a lower window. Still the door was not 
 open. He moved uneasily, then suddenly clanged 
 the bell again. It was the ring of a man who was 
 not going to stand any nonsense. Another light 
 moved across some other windows, then the two 
 
170 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 narrow panes on either side of the hall-door were 
 
 illuminated. The door itself swung back. The 
 
 figure of a maid stood outlined for a moment, then 
 
 she drew to one side and the figure of Kish Massy 
 
 filled the space. He was stepping in, removing his 
 
 hat, evidently speaking to the maid. He moved 
 
 in the hall. The door swung to and closed with 
 
 such a dull clang of awful finality that my heart 
 
 sank. Suddenly the pink light in Miss Heffernan's 
 
 room went out. It was immediately replaced by 
 
 a more powerful white light. Lights also jumped 
 
 in other windows both above and below. The 
 
 house was stirred into sudden and active movement. 
 
 Once the hurried figure of Briscoe showed at a 
 
 window as she drew down a blind. There was the 
 
 sense of hurry in the interior, the presence of a 
 
 powerful personality had wakened Deerpark into 
 
 life. " The conqueror," I told myself, " has 
 
 arrived." 
 
 I turned away from the light dancing from 
 
 window to window and made my way through the 
 
 quivering trees to the side entrance in the demesne 
 
 wall. 
 
 ***** 
 
 The following March a group of people was 
 assembled outside the little parish church in the 
 hills. They raised a moody cheer as the bride and 
 bridegroom drove away after the marriage ceremony. 
 
 Kish Massy and Mary Heffernan had been joined 
 in wedlock. When the carriage bearing the newly 
 wedded couple drove up to Deerpark the daffodils 
 in their golden bonnets were dancing in the lawn. 
 
PART III 
 
 AFTER THE MARRIAGE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 I WAS not among those who extended to Kish 
 and Mrs. Massy a welcome when a month later 
 they returned from the honeymoon. That same 
 morning I had made a call at the house of Hugh 
 Carolan, the miller, who was away at the Ballyrea 
 market. In his unregretted absence his hospitable 
 daughter Betty had entertained me. It was a 
 morning for both of us of splendour of spirits ; I 
 left with the elation which one might carry from 
 the house of a poet. 
 
 In the afternoon I repaired to Deerpark, offering 
 my respects to the bridegroom and the bride. 
 There was quite a flutter in the house. Servants 
 were swift on the foot, the butler was authoritative 
 as he superintended the lugging of trunks, dressing 
 cases, hat boxes, rugs and umbrellas across the hall. 
 The air was heavy with the scent of cooking. 
 
 " They are roasting an ox for Kish," I thought as 
 I mounted the stairs. 
 
 " What ? Is that Paul Jennings ? " a familiar 
 voice called down as I passed on my way to the 
 library. 
 
 I was embarrassed but acknowledged my identity. 
 
 171 
 
172 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 " Good ! I'll be with you in a whiff/' 
 
 I had a vision of Kish Massy in his shirt sleeves, 
 his bare arms and hairy chest steaming and soapy, 
 hanging over the banister while he buttoned on 
 a collar. He was after a wash-up. It was a picture 
 straight from a tenement house. " A very discreet 
 bridegroom indeed," I thought as I entered the 
 library. A little later he burst in, pulsing, animated, 
 beaming, joyous, sixteen stone. He ran to me with 
 an " Ah-h-h," took my hand in both of his, wrung 
 it, slapped me on the back, and looked into my face 
 with eyes humid with emotion. 
 
 "I'm delighted, delighted," he cried, and I had 
 the feeling that I was the bridegroom and that Kish 
 Massy was congratulating me on my immensely 
 good fortune. He was so demonstrative that I 
 had nothing whatever to say. 
 
 " Draw down to the fire, Paul," he said hospitably. 
 We sat down by the fire._ " May is not feeling very 
 well," he added cheerfully as he leaned out to poke 
 up the fire. " She's fatigued after that long journey 
 from Dublin." 
 
 May ? It did not break upon me for quite twenty 
 seconds that he referred to Mrs. Massy, his wife. 
 Somehow the springtime pet name, never called 
 her by mortal before, sounded incongruous and in 
 all the circumstances ridiculous. 
 
 " Well," he said happily, "it's good to have it all 
 over and to be at home." 
 
 The boisterous note of his first greeting quickly 
 died out. He sank back in his armchair. He 
 struck out the two great limbs ; his arms drooped 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 173 
 
 inertly over the sides of the chair ; he gave himself 
 up to a great content. His eyes ranged about the 
 room, following the ornaments on the chimney- 
 piece, the great cheval mirror overhead, the pictures 
 and old prints on the wall, the great shelves of books 
 up to the cornice of the ceiling, then down to the 
 solid, comfortable furniture, the grey pile of the 
 carpet on the floor. " All this is mine — mine," he 
 seemed to say. The oblong eyes revolved in their 
 sockets ; I could see the whites of those eyes terrible 
 and nigger-like for a moment ; they might, again, 
 be the eye-movement seen in a horse-box in a dim 
 stable. The stout limbs spread out from each other 
 slowly, the chest expanded, the stomach heaved, 
 the lips made some movements, and in the most 
 fascinating way the feet began to rise from the 
 ground, ascending with a sloth-like movement, 
 uncanny as the suspension in mid-air of a body by 
 some stage illusionist. The feet reached the marble 
 chimney-piece and there they rested, still well 
 apart. I felt inclined to applaud when the move- 
 ment had been completed, but he was quite oblivious 
 of my existence. The long head nestled into the 
 soft back of the chair and his nose heaved up, rugged 
 and mottled, the nose of a campaigner, the breaths 
 coming from the wide flaps of the nostrils in audible 
 puffs of satisfaction. Some obscure sound rumbled 
 somewhere in the very depths of his being, it twitched 
 across the stomach, caused the chest to heave, 
 distinctly moved the apple in the loose flesh of the 
 throat, the red fingers began to weave invisible 
 threads about the upturned palms, rapid muscles 
 
174 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 worked over the eyebrows, the mouth quivered 
 and from between the great wet lips there emerged a 
 sigh or a grunt, a whisper or a soft whistle, a murmur 
 or a squeak, or something of them all — but at all 
 events an individual orchestral note that was 
 purely of his own creation and his own soul. 
 
 " This," I told myself, "is an Ode to Deerpark 
 by Kish Massy." I waited patiently while the 
 ecstasy of his inspiration lasted. When his eyes 
 became conscious of mundane things they rested 
 on the bronze bell-knob beside the fire-place. It 
 suggested to him a use. He stooped forward and 
 pulled it. Presently the butler appeared. 
 
 " Broderick." 
 
 " Yessir." 
 
 " Cigars." 
 
 " Yessir." 
 
 " And I say, Broderick." 
 
 " Yessir." 
 
 " Decanter of brandy and a siphon of soda." 
 
 " Yessir." 
 
 ii 
 
 The cigars were good, the brandy was good. Kish 
 Massy rolled about in his chair as we enjoyed them 
 and, growing sentimental, he talked of the estate. 
 He began to patronize me a little. It was the great 
 squire addressing his faithful steward. I did not 
 like this, yawned, rose, and went to my desk, saying 
 I had come for some letters. Kish put his back to 
 the fire, elevating himself now on his heels, now on 
 his toes, his words full of windy importance, I was 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 175 
 
 so absent-minded that I failed to answer questions ; 
 when I did make an answer it was irrelevant. He 
 strolled over to the desk and stood behind me. I 
 bustled through my work. He was about to take 
 a thoughtful stride away, his movement that of 
 one with tremendous responsibilities, when he 
 suddenly wheeled about, his nostrils sniffing. 
 
 " What's that ? " he asked. The demand was 
 so sharp that I looked up. His expression had 
 undergone a complete change. His features ex- 
 pressed suspicion, alarm. All the pretence had 
 vanished. It was the aboriginal Kish Massy I 
 beheld, the twitching over the brows more rapid 
 than I had ever seen them before. He sniffed 
 again, his flat nostrils giving the impression of an 
 animal sensitiveness to smell. It occurred to me 
 that there was a most peculiar faint odour around 
 the desk, an elusive perfume which I had noticed 
 the previous day when opening the post-bag. On 
 investigation I had discovered that it exhaled from 
 a pale blue envelope addressed to Kish Massy and 
 bearing the New York postmark. I had put it into 
 a wicker letter basket with other letters addressed 
 personally to Mrs. Massy. The basket now lay on 
 the desk. 
 
 " Do you find that curious perfume, too ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 ' Yes, yes," he replied sharply, his manner quite 
 perturbed. 
 
 " I think it emanates from a letter addressed to 
 yourself," I said. " I put it in the basket with Mrs. 
 Massy's letters." 
 
176 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 " Where is it ? " He was quite nervous, pounced 
 upon the basket, picked out the pale-blue envelope 
 with an eagerness and a directness which I thought 
 curious, then, as if feeling that he was giving some- 
 thing away, slipped it in a casual way into his 
 pocket. He walked back to the fire-place to conceal 
 his excitement. 
 
 " Who takes the letters from the box in the hall 
 downstairs ? " he asked after a time. 
 
 "As a rule Mrs. Briscoe, the housekeeper." 
 
 " She keeps the key ? " 
 
 " Invariably, yes. A second post is brought by 
 our own messenger in a post-bag and this I usually 
 open myself. Any letters addressed to me are left 
 in the library ; Mrs. Massy's letters are taken to her 
 apartments.' ' 
 
 " I see." He stood motionless at the fire-place, 
 but the fingers twitched behind the back, a jewel 
 flashing on one of the rings. There was a knock at 
 the door and Mrs. Briscoe entered. 
 
 " The mistress is anxious to know if any letters 
 await her, Mr. Jennings," she said. 
 
 " Yes, quite an accumulation," I said, handing 
 her the basket of letters, and she moved to the door. 
 
 " I say, Mrs. Briscoe," Kish Massy called out to 
 her. There was a little pause between the " Mrs." 
 and the " Briscoe." 
 
 Mrs. Briscoe stood at once. " Yes, sir," she 
 said. There was a pause between the " yes " and 
 the " sir." I could feel something electrical in the 
 air. Mrs. Briscoe was on her dignity with her new 
 master. 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 177 
 
 " That key of the letter-box downstairs," said 
 Kish Massy carelessly — " I should like to have it." 
 
 " Certainly, sir." She detached a small key 
 from her ring and handed it him. 
 
 " I will relieve you of the responsibility of clearing 
 the box in the morning," he said. "It's only waste 
 of your valuable time." The note of sarcasm was 
 slight. 
 
 Briscoe inclined her head in acknowledgment, 
 and tilting her chin made a magnificent exit. There 
 was scorn, contempt, in the straight stiff long line 
 of the back as she took the door. 
 
 " That basket of letters Briscoe has taken is going 
 to Mrs. Massy ? ' ' he asked. 
 
 " Yes, that is the usual custom," I replied. 
 
 He was evidently thinking that he had intercepted 
 the scented communication only in the nick of time. 
 
 " Great Christ ! " The words broke from him 
 in a half-whisper and quite involuntarily. He sat 
 down by the fire as if he had grown suddenly weak. 
 I looked at him, puzzled, for some time, then closed 
 my desk. The action seemed to rouse him. He 
 looked up at me, his eyes smouldering. " I did 
 not wish May to see that letter," he said, " because 
 it concerns certain speculations in real estate busi- 
 ness in which I am interested in New York. When 
 I was there some years ago I dabbled a little in 
 business." 
 
 " Has it worked out all right ? " I asked. 
 
 " No — not very well," he said. 
 
 I could see that he had been disturbed a great 
 deal by what had occurred. As there was, however, 
 12 
 
178 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 nothing more to be said I prepared to leave the 
 room. 
 
 " Good evening, Kish," I said. 
 
 " Good evening, Paul. And I say — don't mention 
 about that letter to anybody. It's of no conse- 
 quence, of course, but I'd rather you wouldn't." 
 
 " No, certainly not." 
 
 Crossing the room the insidious perfume again 
 assailed my nostrils for a moment. As I closed the 
 door behind me I heard the quick rent of paper, as 
 if an envelope was being eagerly torn open. 
 
 in 
 
 " By the way," said Kish Massy, " May and 
 myself go to Colonel Burke's place this evening. 
 We dine there." 
 
 We were in the library again, some weeks later. 
 Kish Massy had been walking about, uneasy, trying 
 to hide a certain excitement ; I myself was at the 
 desk. 
 
 " The Colonel is a most agreeable soul," I said, 
 " and his dinners are always like him." 
 
 " Very big house party there at present," said 
 Kish Massy. " Lord Elmtree is among the guests. 
 A gay dog is Elmtree." 
 
 He was so elated at the prospect of this dinner 
 and this meeting with a Peer of the Realm that he 
 could no longer contain himself. His old boyish 
 instinct for climbing up something took possession 
 of him. His eyes caught the step-ladder by the 
 book-shelves and up this he ran, nimble as a squirrel, 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 179 
 
 squatting down on the topmost rung. The step- 
 ladder quivered under him. He looked a little 
 grotesque in his great bulk on the perch. I could 
 not help smiling. I was reminded of what an old 
 peasant woman once said of him : " Kish is like 
 the roosting hen, hot with high notions." 
 
 " Elmtree will be there all right." he said. 
 
 " I thought he was dead," I said, my tone 
 as inconsequent as I could make it. 
 
 " Lord Elmtree ? Good God, no ! What put 
 that into your head ? " 
 
 " I had some idea that his tenants had drowned 
 him in a bog hole or that something or other of that 
 sort had happened." 
 
 **■ Nonsense," said Kish Massy, " I'll be breaking 
 bread with him this very night. He's as lively as 
 a salmon at the wier." 
 
 " I don't like Lord Elmtree," I declared with 
 decision. 
 
 Kish Massy was so annoyed that he came down 
 the step-ladder. 
 
 " He's a Peer of the Realm," he said. " He votes 
 in the House of Lords and we ought not to forget 
 that." 
 
 " I don't see that it is of any particular import- 
 ance that he votes in the House of Lords," I said, 
 very glad that I had annoyed him. 
 
 " Are you aware of the extent of Lord Elmtree 's 
 estates ? " he demanded, looking at me with gravity. 
 ' Two hundred thousand acres of the worst man- 
 aged estates in Europe," I replied. "A Paradise 
 for pheasants, a Purgatory for peasants." 
 
180 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 " Paul/' said Kish Massy, " I hope you're not 
 going to turn into a politician or a Nationalist or a 
 moonlighter or something of that sort." 
 
 I was fixing a new nib on a pen-handle. 
 
 " The only thing you have to fear of me, Kish," 
 I said, " is that the devil may some day tempt me 
 to dip this nib in the ink-bottle." 
 
 Kish Massy looked at me puzzled, his annoyance 
 growing. In the end he strode out of the room, 
 banging the door behind him. 
 
 But some hours later he was back again, unable 
 to resist the temptation of showing himself off in 
 his fine feathers. He was in a heavy ulster with 
 deep fur collar and cuffs. It was thrown open, 
 displaying the magnificent girth in evening suit. 
 I caught the sparkle of diamonds in the studs of 
 the shirt front. He wore an orchid in the button- 
 hole. He had oiled his hair. He was smoking a 
 cigar. 
 
 " Have you got the correct time, Jennings ? " 
 
 He studied a watch for the purpose of dangling a 
 gold, jewel-studded trinket at the end of the fob. 
 " I've had an argument with May about that hall 
 clock." 
 
 We adjusted our time. " It won't do to keep the 
 Colonel waiting ; the party's been out for a shoot 
 to-day and will come back ravenous as a wolf." 
 He seemed to be practising the conversation appro- 
 priate to the occasion. 
 
 " By the way," I said, " there are a few cheques 
 here I am anxious to have sent away to-night." 
 
 " Then why the devil don't you send them ? " 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 181 
 
 He made the demand over the glowing end of his 
 cigar. 
 
 " They are not signed." 
 
 " Oh ! " He fingered some of the ash of the cigar 
 and walked up and down. 
 
 " Won't you sign them while you await Mrs. 
 Massy ? " I suggested. " It won't take a moment." 
 
 "I'm not doing any business this afternoon," he 
 said. " Everything in its proper place and time. 
 You understand me, Jennings ? " 
 
 There was a knock at the door and Mrs. Massy 
 opened it. 
 
 "I'm ready," she said. Then added, smiling, 
 " Good afternoon, Mr. Jennings." I made a little 
 obeisance. 
 
 Mrs. Massy wore her rich brown furs over her 
 evening attire. There was that look of delicacy 
 about her which she seemed unable to shake off. 
 It was true that she had lost some of the extreme 
 nervousness which had attacked her in the winter 
 months, before the marriage. For the brief periods 
 I had seen her since the return the impression 
 remained with me of a woman who had developed 
 a hardness, almost peevishness. 
 
 " I am afraid I am responsible for delaying Mr. 
 Massy," I said. 
 
 She moved some way into the room, drawing on 
 her gloves. The fair lashes lay pallid on the dark 
 skin under the downcast eyes. 
 
 " What is it all about ? " she asked. 
 
 " I kept him to sign a few cheques." I said. 
 
 The fair lashes at once shot up and she looked 
 
i82 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 directly at me. Kish Massy made some movement, 
 then walked to the window. I was conscious that 
 something had disturbed, even annoyed, both of 
 them. 
 
 '■ Cheques for what, Mr. Jennings ? " she asked 
 quietly, coming slowly down the room. 
 
 " For accounts now due some time," I said, 
 moving to the desk. 
 
 " On the farm ? " she asked. 
 
 " Some on the farm, others on the quarries," I 
 replied. 
 
 " The usual sort of accounts ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes, certainly. Here they are." I lifted up a 
 number of bills pinned together. 
 
 " Leave all this until to-morrow," Kish Massy 
 said, turning from the window. 
 
 " It won't take very long," Mrs. Massy replied 
 deliberately. 
 
 " Barlow is waiting." 
 
 "So is Mr. Jennings." 
 
 The words passed with a little sharpness. Kish 
 Massy made a characteristic short jab with the left 
 arm. Mrs. Massy drew off her gloves, moving 
 over to the desk. 
 
 " I sign all cheques as heretofore," she said, her 
 voice very distinct. The silence which followed 
 was almost painful. I merely bowed in acknow- 
 ledgment of the proclamation, and while I did so I 
 could see the twitches working over Kish Massy's 
 brows. " Forked lightning," I said to myself. 
 
 Mrs. Massy settled herself at the desk, selected a 
 pen, and signed the cheques which I had filled in. 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 183 
 
 Kish kept his great back steadily to the room while 
 the pen scratched over the paper, dramatic in the 
 silence of the place. The hand appending the 
 magic signature which gave the blue slips of paper 
 value was deliberate. 
 
 " Would you mind blotting them, Mr. Jennings ? " 
 she asked when she had finished. I bent forward 
 to comply. She rose from the desk. 
 
 " Well, I suppose we may go now ? " Kish 
 Massy asked, turning from the window. " The 
 Colonel is swearing by this time." 
 
 His wife made no reply. She was drawing on 
 the gloves again. " You understand about the 
 cheques then ? " she said to me in the same quiet 
 but decided tone. 
 
 " Yes ; certainly." I felt a little embarrassed. 
 
 " And all lodgments are to be made in the banks 
 as formerly," Mrs. Massy continued. " The farm 
 and household moneys are to be lodged to the No. 1 
 account, and the quarries and estate to No. 2." 
 
 I bowed again. Kish Massy moved away from 
 the window, went to the book-shelves and stared 
 blankly up at them. It was a painful moment. It 
 was as if Mrs. Massy had said, "It is I, not my 
 husband, who has got to sign the cheques, and it is 
 to my credit all income must he lodged in the banks. 
 I control the treasury of this household and property 
 and I mean to continue in control of it. There has 
 been no transfer of power over the purse as a result 
 of the marriage. The banks will recognize my 
 signature only. I am perfectly well protected." 
 
 " Now we may go," she said, moving to the door. 
 
184 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 Kish walked sullenly after her. The door stood 
 open and they passed out, the woman tall, the 
 carriage one of unmistakable distinction, the bulky 
 figure of the man only vulgarized by his new equip- 
 ment. I could not resist the thought that a more 
 ill-matched pair were not likely to be on view at 
 Colonel Burke's dinner party. I could hear them 
 descending the stairs, and they passed through the 
 house without conversation. Presently the carriage 
 rumbled down the drive. I stood over the desk 
 for a little while, indulged in a long soft whistle. 
 I walked up and down the room, and at length said, 
 " So she's got Kish chained up in his kennel." 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THE tenants had been coming and going in 
 little driblets all day, handing over the 
 half year's rent, or whatever rent they 
 owed. To me, as I sat behind a long mahogany 
 table, they addressed their opinions and their 
 complaints. They passed through the place with 
 a low shuffle, to the accompaniment of incessant 
 talk, leaving behind the memory of a procession of 
 tough spirits, of hard grey faces, of wiry hands 
 fingering money, of the production of long, faded 
 calico satchels from some remote pocket in a garment 
 hidden behind many waistcoats, of the reluctant 
 tendering of money wrapped in dirty wads of paper, 
 of a long series of arguments about crops and 
 climate and diseases of animals and everything on 
 earth that was futile and evasive. Women delved 
 skinny yellow arms in half-exposed bosoms, hunting 
 for purses which appeared lost in unknown regions, 
 and having miraculously discovered them handed 
 over the rent with prayers for the souls of their 
 dead. Now and then some angry man pushed into 
 the room as if he had come to take my life ; others 
 slunk around the door, timorous and shaken, as if 
 they expected me to whip them upon the back. 
 
 185 
 
186 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 A young woman or two came direct and close to 
 me, their eyes full of challenge, adventure ; others 
 backed at the wall, making curtsies as if they found 
 themselves in the sanctuary of some dread deity. 
 A violent old man, who remembered the famine, 
 with a mouth like a vacant potato-pit, attacked me 
 with blazing eyes, shouting and cursing, disputing 
 records of rents which had been disposed of twenty 
 years ago, striking the table with quivering fists, 
 driving home arguments which had been nursed 
 by the fireside a dozen years, astonishing me by a 
 quotation from Virgil, learned from a hedge school- 
 master ; others entered without a word, did their 
 business without a single comment, their thin lips 
 drawn across their teeth tight as the skin of a drum, 
 men from some famished hillside ; a widow with a 
 rich colour in her cheeks wept for fifteen minutes 
 for a husband who had died of consumption sixteen 
 years ago ; now and then a preoccupied well-to-do 
 person drove up on his side-car, came in with an air 
 of business, wrote out a cheque, leaning hard on the 
 pen and breathing heavily, talked of the County 
 Council for a minute, and went out with the whip in 
 his hand ; a woman who held her head erect, the 
 skin bright on her high cheek bones, her eyes 
 calculating and clear, said with an American accent, 
 " I guess I pay you good money for the pinch of 
 dust between the rocks on Knockbwee " ; a hand 
 emaciated with toil in the little hungry fields would 
 reach for the rent receipt as if he were about to re- 
 ceive the Ark of the Covenant ; other hands shrank 
 from the papers as if they were death warrants. 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 187 
 
 And while this ceremony proceeded I wondered 
 how it was that Kish Massy did not come. The 
 collection took place in my mother's house, as had 
 been the custom on the Deerpark estate for genera- 
 tions. The Heffernans never met the tenants on 
 such an occasion ; but Kish Massy was not a 
 Heffernan. It was such a proceeding as would give 
 him an opportunity of playing the role of agrarian 
 demi-god. I could imagine him behind the long 
 mahogany table : his hands spread out, his eyes 
 commanding, his voice full of a terrible authority, 
 his mind eager for battle. The joy of lording it 
 over these people would be ecstasy to him. He 
 would enter into all their arguments, understand 
 all the by-play of their obscure but subtle minds, 
 know how to play upon their emotions. He would 
 shout back at the angry old man, throw him curse 
 for curse ; he would weep with the widow the 
 fountain of whose woe was potent after sixteen 
 years of desolation; he would meet the curtsy 
 of the abashed with a faint acknowledgment ; he 
 would kindle to the spark of the eye which held 
 adventure. His great skin would swell until it 
 creaked to feel the homage paid him by the hill-folk. 
 . . . And yet he did not come ! The last frieze 
 coat, the last white bauneen, the last shawl and the 
 last cloak, had made its individual entrance and 
 exit and still the new landlord resisted the tempta- 
 tion to preside over this wayside levee. All that 
 remained of the ceremony was the scent of the turf 
 smoke from the clothes of the tenants, the little 
 heaps of yellow clay from their boots and their bare 
 
188 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 feet on the floor, and on the table the agreeable 
 piles of the gold, the silver, the notes, the copper, 
 their dues on the estate, their reluctant offering 
 on the feudal altar, the tribute that was the testi- 
 mony of their bondage. 
 
 Doyle, the clerk, who sat at another table, checked 
 and totted his accounts, made his reckoning, and for 
 half an hour worried over a crown which could not 
 be accounted for. Eventually he gave it up. " I'm 
 afraid it must go into the Micawber account," he said. 
 
 I nodded and yawned. " Thank God another 
 gale day has been concluded," I said. " They have 
 all been here — all except the stragglers, the back- 
 sliders, 'the perverse ones whom as usual we shall 
 have to legally beat out of their coverts." 
 
 ii 
 
 Doyle went away, and I made a final count and 
 reckoning of the rents. I was putting the coins 
 into the cash-box in their respective little brown 
 paper cartridges, when suddenly I had the feeling 
 that I was under observation. I heard no sound 
 whatever, but I had strongly that instinctive 
 feeling that somebody was close to me and interested 
 in my occupation. The window looking directly 
 into the public road was right behind my back and 
 I felt that the presence lay in that direction. I 
 swerved sharply about, and had an idea that some- 
 thing moved away from the window ; it was so 
 swift a movement, however, that I was not quite 
 clear. I waited, and a few seconds later Kish 
 Massy came into the room. His eyes were directly 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 189 
 
 on the cash-box. And there was an ill-concealed 
 hunger in the gaze. " Ah, Paul," he said, " so your 
 gale day is over." 
 
 " Just concluded," I said. I proceeded to 
 methodically transfer the cartridges to the cash-box. 
 He walked uneasily up and down the room between 
 the mahogany tables. " It was a great sight to see 
 the people gathering about the place — from the 
 bogs, the mountains, across the hills." 
 
 " All bearing their honey to the one hive," I 
 said, putting in the last packet. 
 
 Kish Massy laughed, but there was no mirth in the 
 laugh. I closed the lid of the cash-box with a bang. 
 
 " What sort of a time had you at Colonel Burke's 
 last night ? " I asked. 
 
 He sat down and looked at me with his intelligent 
 eyes, some eager calculation in them. 
 
 " A splendid time," he said. " Lord Elmtree and 
 myself cottoned to each other wonderfully." 
 
 " Common interests, I suppose ? " 
 
 " I expect so. He's coming over to Deerpark 
 this evening to look at some blood stock of mine 
 in the stables." 
 
 " So you combined business with pleasure last 
 night." 
 
 His eyes were on the cash-box. I turned the key 
 in the lock, and as I did so I could see a movement 
 of his great shoulders. He gave me the impression 
 of a man sick for money and baulked about it. 
 
 I was uneasy at the look in his eyes, wondering 
 Vaguely how it would fare with his wife if she 
 continued to stand in his way in the complete 
 
igo THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 overlordship of Deerpark. He rose and resumed 
 his nervous walk up and down the room. 
 
 " How do you manage about this rent money ? " 
 he asked at length. 
 
 " Lock it up in the safe for the present," I replied. 
 
 " Here ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " When is it taken to Deerpark ? " 
 
 " It is never taken to Deerpark." 
 
 He stopped dead, his great feet crunching on the 
 bare boards. His eyes had a dull ugliness as he 
 swerved round to me. 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " he demanded. 
 
 " The money is taken direct from here to the 
 bank in Ballyrea and there lodged to the credit of 
 the estate." 
 
 " I see." He stood thinking for a moment, his 
 face full of disappointment. I lifted the cash-box, 
 bore it to the safe and locked it away. When I had 
 finished he was sitting down, his gaze wandering 
 thoughtfully out of the window. I wondered if his 
 obvious hunger for money had anything to do with 
 the arrival of the scented envelope from New York. 
 
 "I'm not at all in good humour," he said suddenly. 
 
 " No ? " I asked, sitting down. It was at least 
 a token of companionship with him in this his black 
 hour. 
 
 " No," he said. " Something has happened." I 
 waited and he added, " At Deerpark." 
 
 " Oh ! " 
 
 " You know as well as I do, Paul, that women 
 don't understand some things." 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 191 
 
 " Men, for instance ? " I suggested. 
 
 " Exactly," he agreed. " And their require- 
 ments." 
 
 " All history rather contradicts you, does it 
 not ? " I said. " Think of the Garden of Eden, 
 Kish, and all the little incidents that have parodied 
 it ever since." 
 
 He made an impatient jab of the left arm. He 
 was in no mood for trivial conversation of the kind. 
 The Garden of Eden was too remote ; the Chase in 
 Deerpark was for him a more intimate business. 
 
 " We've had a tiff," he said sullenly. 
 
 " We ? " I pretended a vacuous mind. 
 
 "May and myself." 
 
 I raised my eyebrows, trying to convey the 
 unspoken word, " Impossible ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes, we had. I got into a temper and just 
 took a walk down here to cool myself off." 
 
 " An excellent exercise on all such occasions," I 
 said. 
 
 " For one thing, we differed about Lord Elmtree," 
 said Kish Massy. " As I say, I expect him to look 
 at some of the young ones in the stables and there 
 may be a very decent purchase. Naturally, I 
 wanted to have a nice little dinner party in his 
 honour. But May objected. Says she does not 
 like Lord Elmtree or care to have him in the house. 
 She could give no reasons, just like a woman ! 
 Women are like dogs, Paul — they just smell a man 
 and come to some conclusion about him in the one 
 whiff. After that they put their teeth in the calves 
 of his legs or else follow him about for ever, wagging 
 
192 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 their tails and taking even kicks as compliments." 
 He snorted contemptuously. 
 
 " Marriage has already made a cynic of him," I 
 thought. Aloud I said, " Many women have very 
 logical minds and powerful reasoning capacity." 
 He made his pugilistic jab of the left arm and 
 said, " I saw a woman with a sieve in her hands 
 once, outside a barn door, winnowing oats, the 
 wind blowing the red petticoat about her skinny 
 yellow legs and I thought she looked nearly as right 
 as a woman with a baby in her arms. She looked 
 right because she was at the work of a slave." 
 
 " He must feel hurt to the soul about that banking 
 account," I thought. 
 
 " In any case," he said, rising, " I intend to have 
 Lord Elmtree to dinner. I would like you to join 
 us." 
 
 "I'm afraid I can't bask under the shade of the 
 Elmtree this evening," I said at once. 
 
 He turned a scowling face upon me. If he had 
 been paying me to eat dinners at Deerpark he could 
 not look much blacker. 
 
 " I'm off to a concert rehearsal in Kilbeg this 
 evening," I said, " and nothing would induce me to 
 miss it." 
 
 He walked up and down, his great limbs giving 
 the illusion that he was trampling on the forms of 
 fallen victims, a very Juggernaut in desire. 
 
 " I think," he said at last, " that we had better 
 make a new arrangement about that rent money. 
 Better have it sent over to Deerpark this evening 
 and then we can see about its transfer to Ballyrea." 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 193 
 
 I felt the skin tighten over my mouth. He had 
 struck me in the right spot. It was about time that 
 we understood each other. I rose at once, deter- 
 mined to put things to the test. " I think," I said, 
 "that the old arrangement must stand." 
 
 He stood at once ; his broad back was level 
 against me for a moment. He swung around slowly 
 and looked at me. I walked a pace or two to the 
 window, where he could have a good look at me in 
 the full light. I awaited with interest to hear him 
 proclaim himself master of Deerpark and give me 
 definite orders as to how I was to dispose of the 
 money. He hesitated too long. The " yellow 
 streak " asserted itself somewhere in him. 
 
 " It would be a more reasonable arrangement than 
 the present one," he said weakly. 
 
 "Up to this," I said deliberately, " I have been 
 agent of the estate and I don't purpose making 
 any changes in the system of business followed — at 
 least not without definite instructions from Mrs. 
 Heffernan Massy whom I serve." 
 
 I could see the twitches coming and going over 
 the eyebrows like angry thoughts. He hesitated, 
 controlled himself, shrugged his shoulders, and 
 walked up and down the room. In doing so he 
 kicked the safe, stumbling a little as he did so. It 
 was a solid article. He consulted his watch. 
 " Elmtree may drive up to Deerpark at any 
 moment," he said. " I must be off. Good evening, 
 Jennings." 
 
 " Good evening." 
 
 13 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 NEXT day I accompanied my mother and 
 Betty Carolan to the annual Hunt Club 
 afternoon concert in Ballyrea. In the trap 
 I fetched with me, at the same time, the cash-box 
 containing the rents and duly lodged them in the 
 local bank to the credit of the estate. I did so with 
 the feeling that I was adding to the little annoyances 
 of Kish Massy' s new life. 
 
 When we arrived at the Town Hall an irregular 
 queue of vehicles was drawn up about the door. 
 As we ascended the staircase we got mixed up with 
 Colonel Burke's house party, just arrived. The 
 Colonel himself, pleasant and garrulous, limped up 
 with Lady Newell, their aristocratic haunches 
 working in harmonious distress as they mastered 
 one step after the other. My eyes wandered over 
 the party for Mrs. Heffernan Massy, who had, I 
 knew, arranged to accompany Lady Newell, but 
 she was nowhere in sight. The hall was almost 
 crowded when we entered. There appeared a good 
 deal of confusion ; we wandered up and down looking 
 for our seats. 
 
 M They go on for ever, these Irish concerts," said 
 
 194 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 195 
 
 Lady Newell. " I have seen the programme— it is as 
 long as a parish priest's funeral." 
 
 " I could forgive it all," drawled Colonel Burke, 
 " if a young man from London, who has followed 
 a niece of mine to Connacht, had not volunteered 
 to tweat us to a mandolin solo." 
 
 " A mandolin solo, Algernon ! " exclaimed Lady 
 Newell. " Why did they not persuade him to 
 tickle us with a quill behind the ears instead ? Now 
 I know I shall hate everybody who comes out from 
 behind the palms. They shall all sing to me in 
 vain." 
 
 " Not all of them, Lady Newell," I said. " You 
 must make an exception. Miss Betty Carolan is on 
 the programme." 
 
 "Ah, so that is why you are here, Monsieur 
 Paul ? You have come to hear the little song-bird. 
 Betty Carolan, the old miller's daughter ! How 
 romantic the name ! Is there a rustic bridge 
 anywhere around the mill stream ? And old ivy- 
 clad walls ? And does Betty not confess to freckles 
 and sing at the dawn like a milkmaid ? Mon Dieu ! 
 she is an old ballade ! " 
 
 " Come this way, Colonel," said a young man in 
 scarlet. " We must squeeze you in somewhere." 
 As we made another journey up the hall Lady 
 Newell turned to me. 
 
 " Poor Marie ! " she said. " I thought she would 
 
 be here with us. Now " She shrugged her 
 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Why has she not come ? " 
 
 " Surely you have heard ? " 
 
ig6 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 " Heard what ? " 
 
 " Of her accident." 
 
 "No. Has she had an accident ? " 
 
 " But yes. And the doctor. I could not see her 
 this morning at Deerpark. And Briscoe was so 
 mysterious. What it was that had happened to her 
 I could not discover." 
 
 Before I could hear anything more we got sepa- 
 rated ; several vacant seats were suddenly dis- 
 covered between the embankments of millinery and 
 we were bundled into them. Presently the concert 
 began. It was conventional and proper. As it 
 went on I wondered what accident could have 
 befallen Mrs. Heffernan Massy. Lady Newell had 
 hinted at some mystery. What was wrong ? 
 
 Not until Betty came out to sing did I feel any 
 interest in the proceedings. Then I woke up to an 
 extraordinary anxiety. I was afraid Betty might 
 break down ! She looked so pretty but so girlishly 
 timid as she stood before the crowd of sceptics ! 
 She turned the music over in her hands somewhat 
 nervously while her accompanist played the opening 
 bars of the song. Once she lowered her head for an 
 instant, the enormous hat she wore hiding her face 
 from view. " She's as nervous as a kitten," I told 
 myself. But she looked out over the uneasy 
 audience when the time came, a faint smile changed 
 her expression, and at once her voice rang out 
 nervously fresh and compelling in that piece of 
 splendid musical rhetoric, the Jewel Song from 
 Faust. There was a hesitancy still about her 
 delivery, but she grew confident, and presently sang 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 197 
 
 with a certain abandon, giving herself up to the 
 gorgeous phrasing of the Song. A silence settled 
 down over the restless audience, that silence which 
 alone can be commanded by one who is in all 
 essentials an artist. The young voice rose in the 
 half-rapture, half-sigh, of the ecstatic Marguerite, 
 exquisite in its delicate flexibility. " Betty is a 
 wonder," I told myself. " She's doing splendidly. 
 And this is her first concert, too ! She looks sweet 
 as a rosebud opening to a morning sun-ray." For 
 a moment her eyes caught mine, and I noted the 
 rise of the young bosom, the sudden white gleam 
 of her neck, the grand confident pose of the dark 
 head, the rich soprano ringing out with something 
 more oi passion than she had yet ventured. Some 
 glint distracted my attention and I was conscious 
 that at the end of a bench a man with a monocle 
 was staring at me and reading my thoughts quite 
 easily. He was a bald-headed person, gaunt and 
 sceptical, a frozen smile on his glacial face. He 
 seemed to be chuckling to himself and saying of 
 me, " What a silly young fool to be taken in by 
 these flowery notes ! Of course she's singing 
 middling well. Any sort of young girl with a voice 
 and training could not help singing that music 
 middling well. I have heard battalions of young 
 girls like her. She's all right for a little concert. 
 If she was put up on a stage proper, in a theatre, 
 and had an orchestra before her, what a tin whistle 
 we should have ! Don't be a silly about her, young 
 hopeful ! " 
 
 I glared at this one-eyed critic, then looked down 
 
198 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 at my programne, for I feared my face was giving too 
 much away. Betty won her encore and responded 
 with a little light whiff of an Italian aria. She was 
 wreathed in smiles as she was helped down from the 
 platform. 
 
 ii 
 
 There was a long interval, people moved about, 
 tea-cups rattled, a racket of conversation broke 
 over £he hall. Lady Newell discovered us with 
 her lorgnette and made her ground good to us, 
 dragging Colonel Burke with her. 
 
 " Agwatha, you are westless as a gwasshoppeh," 
 he complained. " You do run me about." 
 
 '* What would you have, Algernon ? You do 
 not want to settle down like a fat toad, growing 
 drowsy until it is time to go back to dinner." 
 
 u I like a leisurely life, Agwatha. You know 
 vewy well it is the only civilized life ; nothing 
 vewy gweat eveh came out of any otheh kind of 
 life. All awt, all litewatuwe, comes out of a fine 
 wepose. . . . What a noise they make about the 
 stage ! " He settled down beside the mater. 
 
 " Ah, Monsieur Paul," Lady Newell said to me, 
 u here you sit so quiet beside the good mater. One 
 might think you such a young Adonis. And what 
 a charming voice has Madamoiselle Betty ! Like 
 herself, little and found and silky and of the pas- 
 sionate darkness. But what Italian ! " 
 
 ■' You did not like her Italian accent, then ? " I 
 asked, amused. 
 
 " Accent, but no ! I almost wept." 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 199 
 
 There was a little diversion at the door of a side 
 entrance and Lord Elmtree stood there, having just 
 arrived, a tall narrow figure, his face fair, irregular, 
 the eyes small, blinking curiously, his expression 
 a mixture of cynical humour and cunning. 
 
 " Ah," said Lady Newell, " there is the Elmtree 
 which grew up a beanstalk." 
 
 Lord Elmtree stepped in to speak with some 
 friends, and the place he vacated at the door was 
 taken by Kish Massy. 
 
 " And there is the great Kish, heavy and filled," 
 said Lady Newell. Then in an undertone, she 
 sighed, " Ah, poor Marie ! " 
 
 " Won't you tell me what has happened at 
 Deerpark? " I asked. 
 
 " But I have nothing to tell. There has been an 
 accident. She is in her bed. The doctor is with 
 her. Nobody may see her. Briscoe is mysterious. 
 That is all one can find out." 
 
 " The accident must be a trifling one, otherwise 
 her husband would not come to this concert," I 
 reasoned.. 
 
 " I would never diagnose the case of the wife by 
 the capacity of the husband to enjoy himself," said 
 Lady Newell, shrugging her shoulders. She turned 
 to my mother with one of her swift movements and 
 they were soon engrossed in a lively conversation 
 about the millinery which surrounded them. 
 
 My gaze wandered with a morbid fascination 
 back to Kish Massy. He had the appearance of a 
 man who had made a night of it ; the complexion 
 was mottled, the eye-rims seared. He did not look 
 
200 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 at home, and Lord Elmtree was steadily edging 
 away from him. If Kish Massy was looking for 
 snubs he had found the right company for them. 
 The shouted words of greeting, the hearty good 
 humour, the nods and smiles, the hand-shakes, the 
 little salutes which were flying about, all concealed 
 snubs and slights and insolent cuts. Every smile 
 meant that somebody was deliberately overlooked, 
 every shout conveyed that somebody else was 
 ignored. The social life of the locality was 
 anaemic, morally run down. The aristocracy was 
 bastard. The professional class was inconsequent 
 and trying to shake off the shop-keeping element/ 
 The shop-keepers were endeavouring to rise above 
 their ancestral peasantry. The clergymen hung 
 like afterthoughts on the flanks of all classes. A 
 little group of peasants near the door stood gloomily 
 austere and apart. I watched Kish Massy as he 
 moved through a passage of snubs in Lord Elmtree's 
 wake. I wondered again what had happened to 
 his wife, and if the little incidents of the past few 
 weeks had anything to do with her unexpected 
 indisposition. Had the dog which she had chained 
 up broken loose and done some harm ? The feeling 
 that something of the kind had happened, or was 
 bound sooner or later to happen, oppressed me. I 
 watched the progress of that bulky sinister figure 
 through the animated crowd and it seemed to me 
 that Lord Elmtree drew him on like a magnet. 
 
 The concert was resumed and seemed appallingly 
 flat. Dulness succeeded dulness. Lady Newell 
 sighed and chafed. Colonel Burke went to sleep 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 201 
 
 in his seat. " Sometimes one envies Algernon his 
 capacity for an animal happiness," Lady Newell 
 said, gazing at him, his enormous underlip falling 
 over his chin. 
 
 But right at the end of the programme our hearts 
 went up with a bound. One of those things hap- 
 pened which are only possible at such an entertain- 
 ment, which could only ripen in such an atmosphere. 
 A little farce was staged, utterly stupid, but it 
 had been put on to give Mrs. Hugh Quirke, a 
 notoriously dashing horsewoman, an opportunity 
 of introducing to our notice a sensation then new 
 to the Western world — a skirt dance. Somebody 
 in the farce said, " And now comes forth the fairy 
 dancer ! " Without another word of warning Mrs. 
 Hugh sprang from the wings, prancing about the 
 stage, throwing her legs in mid-air, shocking and 
 horrifying, stimulating and delighting, a hard-looking 
 thin woman, her eyes half closed, her breath coming 
 short from her nostrils, her figure one of aggressive 
 angles, her arms muscular, her elbows raw, her 
 hands shaking the folds of her skirt about, displaying 
 ankles that had no merit, shanks that were too 
 wiry, limbs that were mercifully smothered in 
 swathes of white frills under the semi-chorus-girl 
 skirt. 
 
 " My God, it's Mrs. Hugh ! " said Colonel Burke, 
 waking up. " And to think Hugh is dead these 
 twenty yeaws ! " 
 
202 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 in 
 
 On and on danced Mrs. Hugh Quirke, tossing 
 herself about the confined stage, striking attitudes, 
 ducking and diving, backing and revolving, making 
 sudden plunges, her legs striking out wildly for such 
 clear patches of the stage as afforded a foothold, 
 some vague notion at the back of her enterprising 
 head that she expressed a poetic motion, attained 
 some obtuse artistic effect ; but she was too tough, 
 too flat at the hips, too meagre of chest, too eloquent 
 of an unemotional age, too obviously a campaigner 
 who had had her day, to convey anything except 
 a grotesque parody of a stage emotion. Her 
 exploit was received with an uproar : shoutings 
 cheering, hand-clapping, whistling, laughter, and 
 cries of amazement. I noticed that the bench on 
 which we sat was quivering most curiously ; I 
 discovered that both my mother and Lady Newell 
 were leaning back, both their bodies set into a 
 rhythmical motion by uncontrollable mirth, both 
 unable to speak, in the throes of a merciless duet 
 of silent laughter at the expense of Mrs. Hugh 
 Quirke — for nobody is more intolerant of the 
 elderly than the elderly — while Colonel Burke at 
 the end of the quivering bench muttered to himself, 
 saying, " God wrest your soul, Hugh Quirke, to- 
 day ! " But the young cubs of the Hunt Club 
 would toast Mrs. Hugh Quirke's health that night, 
 assure each other she was a ripping woman, a 
 pioneer, hip, hip hurrah ! . . . Some seasons later, 
 while following the Blazers, she came a fearful 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 203 
 
 cropper at an ugly stone wall. I was one of a 
 crowd of laggards who came upon her later. She 
 was lying under a clump of furze, her tongue lolling 
 out of her mouth, her eyes appalling, her neck 
 cracked, a wren on a branch of the furze above her 
 body perking and shrilling his merry little roundelay. 
 
 I hurried Betty down the stairs after the concert, 
 rinding it difficult to get her away from the people 
 who would flatter her — and many who would flirt 
 with her — as a result of her success. We overtook 
 my mother, Lady Newell and Colonel Burke. 
 
 " But no," Lady Newell was saying as we caught 
 them up. " If she came to us d la nature it would 
 be so much to the good. But the baby linen, the 
 frills, and the old joints creaking behind ! One has 
 to go to Balzac for a woman like Mrs. Hugh." 
 
 " Pooh Hugh, he died young," said Colonel 
 Burke. 
 
 As we made our way through a crowd of people 
 to our trap Lord Elmtree and Kish Massy came 
 from the Town Hall together. Kish looked quite 
 cheerful, almost merry, and he made an effort to 
 reach us. I smiled, too, for I felt that he would tell 
 me about the accident to Mrs. Heffernan Massy, 
 and that the news would be reassuring. At last he 
 reached us, ignored my mother and Betty, stooping 
 over a little confidentially to me. As he did so I 
 got a disagreeable whiff of raw onions and stale 
 whiskey. 
 
 " Are you coming up to the hotel, Paul ? " he 
 asked and winked meaningly. 
 
 "I'm afraid not." 
 
204 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 " Come along, man. Elmtree and myself are 
 going up there." 
 
 " So sorry." 
 
 He stooped more to my ear, all confidence. At 
 last I was to hear the news I awaited ! 
 
 " Sold him two of the youngsters, all right," he 
 whispered. 
 
 " Good price I hope ? " 
 
 " Can't complain about the price. Are you 
 coming to the hotel ? We might as well make a 
 night of it. Elmtree is in tremendous form, out to 
 punish all the champagne in the place." 
 
 '* I've got to drive my people home." 
 
 A little crowd of people cut us off from each other 
 and we started for home without further delay. 
 
 As we drove along I felt puzzled, annoyed, at the 
 news from Deerpark. What on earth had hap- 
 pened ? Could Lady Newell be mistaken ? And 
 if not, how was it Kish Massy did not consider the 
 accident to his wife worth mentioning ? Could it 
 be possible the sale of the blood stock and his 
 cultivation of the Earl of Elmtree were more impor- 
 tant to him than the health of his wife ? " And 
 they were only married in March!" I thought 
 ironically. 
 
 " Cheer up, Paul ! " the mater said to me. " One 
 would fancy that Betty broke down at the concert, 
 you look so glum." 
 
 I looked across at Betty, her neat little figure, her 
 young face eager and thoughtful, her eyes bright 
 with triumph, her brows level and silky, and every- 
 thing about her seemed inexpressibly precious. 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 205 
 
 She was rolling her music in its black rainproof 
 wrapper about in her hands, her movement convey- 
 ing some of the excitement which inwardly consumed 
 her. She had not been conscious of my gloomy 
 mood ; she was still tingling with the sensation 
 which applause had brought to her. She smiled 
 across at me. Even the powder which she had put 
 on her young cheeks seemed a convention that 
 might be forgiven ! 
 
 " Instead of which I won my encore," she said, 
 showing her white teeth. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 DOCTOR O'SULLIVAN was coming down 
 the stairs at Deerpark when I called there 
 next day. We shook hands. I inquired 
 for Mrs. Heffernan Massy. 
 
 " There has been an accident ? " I suggested. 
 
 " Well," the doctor said, his manner at once 
 pompously professional, " not so much an accident, 
 perhaps, as shock, very considerable shock, one 
 might almost say a nervous breakdown." 
 
 " I understood there was an accident," I per- 
 sisted. 
 
 The doctor beamed upon me, tolerant of my 
 curiosity. " And so there has," he said. " I have 
 mentioned that there has been a little accident. 
 She tells how she tripped over an unseen cushion 
 on the floor, stumbled, lost her balance, fell, her face 
 striking against the leg of a table, causing a rather 
 severe and painful braisure on the left cheek." 
 
 " That was unfortunate," I said. 
 
 " Most unfortunate," Dr. O'Sullivan agreed 
 cheerfully. " She's rather poorly to-day and must 
 rest. Good morning, Mr. Jennings." 
 
 I found but a few letters awaiting me in the 
 library. I dallied over them for some time. People 
 
 206 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 207 
 
 passed up and down the corridor outside ; there was 
 that stealthy, restless movement in the house which 
 denotes illness. A feeling of unhappiness oppressed 
 me. Two maids spoke in undertones outside the 
 door. " She fell and so did I," one of them said in 
 a note of sarcasm. I crossed the room, opened the 
 door, startling the maids, and requested that they 
 might inform Mrs. Briscoe that I was anxious to see 
 her. They fled to obey, and after some time Briscoe, 
 followed by the inevitable Shah, made her appear- 
 ance. She looked fatigued ; her manner was con- 
 strained, she sat down with an air of weariness. 
 The Shah rolled himself into a ball before the fire. 
 
 " I don't like how things are going in this house, 
 Mr. Jennings." 
 
 " What has happened ? " I asked. 
 
 " What happened exactly I don't know, and I 
 won't wrong no person nohow." Briscoe took 
 pleasure in stating this great guiding principle in 
 her life under the most depressing of conditions. 
 
 ' The trouble seemed to come with Lord Elm- 
 tree," she added. " He dined here evening before 
 last and stayed that night. I don't think the 
 mistress was pleased. And the master and his 
 lordship sat up most of the night. Broderick says 
 they got very tight." 
 
 " Broderick is a good butler and every good 
 butler knows what he knows," I said. 
 
 " When Lord Elmtree and Mr. Massy got up late 
 next morning," said Briscoe, " Mrs. Massy had 
 already left Deerpark for Lady Newell's place and 
 did not arrive back until his lordship had gone. It 
 
208 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 was after she got back that the scene took place." 
 
 " Then there was a scene ? " 
 
 " Yes, between the mistress and Mr. Massy. I 
 don't know what was said, or what happened, but 
 I could hear his voice, very angry and terrible. I 
 was all of a tremble. But it died down. Then he 
 left the house. When I went to the mistress she 
 was in her bedroom, sitting before the fire, a hand- 
 kerchief to her face." Mrs. Briscoe paused. 
 
 "Well? " I queried. 
 
 " Under the handkerchief," she said in a low 
 voice, " there was blood." 
 
 I sprang from my chair, every nerve of my body 
 tingling. 
 
 " It is abominable ! " I cried. 
 
 Briscoe looked pained, even distressed. 
 
 " It was an accident," she said. " The mistress 
 had struck her face against the half-open door in 
 the darkness. She told me so." 
 
 I sat down again, telling myself in a hopeless way 
 that it was none of my affair. 
 
 "Did Mrs. Massy 'say anything about tripping 
 over an unseen cushion on the floor, striking her 
 face against a table ? " I asked. 
 
 " Not a word," Mrs. Briscoe replied. 
 
 Something, I knew, was being hidden. The story 
 of the accident was a myth. 
 
 I knew by Mrs. Briscoe's uneasiness that she, too, 
 scented something more than an accident, and there 
 was a mute understanding on both sides that the 
 subject was not one to pursue any further. There 
 was silence in the room for some time, the Shah 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 209 
 
 turning over on his back in a sheer orgy of self- 
 indulgence, the paws limp, the white line of the belly 
 palpitating softly, two yellow teeth showing over 
 the under lip, giving him the illusion of a sardonic 
 grin. From this picture of pamperdom my eyes 
 wandered to the desk. 
 
 " There have not been many letters to-day," I said. 
 
 " There are others locked up in the letter-box 
 downstairs," Mrs. Briscoe replied. " Nobody to 
 open it." 
 
 " Why, where is the master ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know. He left for a concert in 
 Ballyrea yesterday and he's not yet got back." 
 
 Briscoe was called away to the sick chamber 
 but was back again within a very few minutes. 
 
 ' The mistress would like to speak with you, Mr. 
 Jennings." 
 
 " I wonder if it is good for her to see people ? 
 Dr. O'Sullivan said something about quiet." 
 
 " I think you had better come. She appears 
 anxious about something." 
 
 11 
 
 I found Mrs. Heffernan Massy propped up in an 
 armchair beside the fire. Her face was of green 
 pallor, the poor body inert and frail as she lay back 
 on the pillows. There was some dressing on the 
 left cheek ; her fingers plucked at the shawl ; her 
 eyes were too open and too bright ; the breathing was 
 irregular. She gave me her long hand with a smile. 
 
 " Confess to it at once," she said. " Confess that 
 I look a beauty." 
 14 
 
210 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 " So sorry to hear you've had an accident," 1 
 murmured. 
 
 " Yes, it was so stupid of me," she said. There 
 was a pause. " I wanted to see you about a little 
 personal affair," she said, " and I am so glad you've 
 come." 
 
 " Do you think it quite wise to bother about your 
 affairs just now ? Would it not be better to leave 
 it over until you are about again." 
 
 " There are some things that should never be 
 allowed to hang fire," she said, " and this is one of 
 them. I have neglected it quite long enough. 
 
 One never knows " Her eyes closed a little 
 
 wearily. Briscoe, who had been looking after the 
 fire, quietly left the room. 
 
 " Anything which makes a tax on one's strength 
 ought to be put aside on occasions such as this," I 
 said. " No personal affair ought to be allowed to 
 usurp the place of one's health." 
 
 '•' It would be a mercy if people would refrain 
 from inflicting useless homilies upon me," she said 
 with a sigh. 
 
 "I don't mean to lecture," I said quietly. 
 
 She looked at me slowly, and smiled faintly. 
 
 " Did Briscoe not tell you ? " she asked. 
 
 " Tell me what ? " 
 
 " That I've got quite cross, quite testy ? " 
 
 " We all have our moments of testiness," I said. 
 
 She hitched herself more up on her pillows, the 
 movement appearing to distress her. 
 
 " I hope you won't take alarm at a question I 
 wish to ask you," she said. 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 211 
 
 " I don't think I am easily alarmed." 
 
 She plucked at the shawl and moistened her lips. 
 
 " I wondered," she said slowly, " if you knew 
 anything about the making of a will ? " 
 
 " Making of a will ? " I repeated in surprise. 
 
 " What I mean," she added anxiously, " is, how 
 one might begin it, in the proper legal wording, the 
 correct formula. ' That should be important. If 
 one once got under way it should be easy to set 
 down what one wanted done. It is a mere technical 
 point, and that is all I wished to know about it. 
 A mere technical point." She appeared painfully 
 anxious to make it clear to me that there was no- 
 thing more than an inquiry in this matter. 
 
 "I'm afraid I am a very bad adviser," I said. 
 " I really don't know the formula you speak of, 
 or if there is any formula. I don't believe I ever 
 read a will in my life." 
 
 She sank in the pillows, disappointed, almost 
 exhausted. It was plain to me that she was greatly 
 disturbed, that she wanted very badly to make a 
 will and to make it as secretly as possible. I could 
 not help connecting that desire with what had 
 occurred in Deerpark within the past few days. 
 Some resolve had taken hold of her and had become 
 a passion in her condition of physical semi-prostra- 
 tion. Did she fear death ? And if so to whom 
 would she will all she held in her frail hands ? 
 
 " Of course," I said, " a solicitor — your own 
 solicitor — is the proper person to advise in a serious 
 matter of the kind." 
 
 " Yes, I thought of that, too," she said, " but I 
 
212 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 don't want to make a fuss." She again hitched 
 herself on the chair and I had the impression that 
 she was angry with herself for having consulted me 
 to no practical purpose. " I thought, perhaps, you 
 might be able to enlighten me, but it is of no par- 
 ticular importance." 
 
 " I am afraid I must venture on a lecture again," 
 I said. " You make a very great mistake to worry 
 about such questions until you are first able to get 
 about." 
 
 " I have my medical adviser to consult in all 
 these matters," she answered. " I am entirely 
 surrounded by experts. I am a most enviable 
 personage, and cannot possibly make a mistake." 
 
 This note of bitter irony on the part of the lady 
 of Deerpark was quite new to her. But I could 
 see that in the shaken body there was battle, a 
 determination, characteristic of the family, to 
 assert her own will as far as she could. 
 
 I rose to go. 
 
 " I would be thankful," she said, " if you write 
 a note to Mr. O'Moore, asking him to come out to 
 see me if possible this evening." 
 
 " Certainly," I said. 
 
 " You might send Barlow with it and have it 
 delivered by hand. If the solicitor is not too busy 
 perhaps he would avail of a seat with Barlow on 
 the journey back. It would be the quickest way." 
 
 Before more could be said footsteps sounded 
 outside, there was a brisk knock at the door, it was 
 thrown open, and Kish Massy stood there. His 
 expression was hateful. 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 213 
 
 " What's this ? " he demanded, his voice ringing 
 over the room with a command and a challenge. 
 Mrs. Briscoe came in behind him, her tall figure 
 spectral in its pessimism. 
 
 Mrs. Massy looked at her husband with a smile 
 which was disagreeable. It reminded me a little 
 of the sardonic expression of the Shah. His eyes 
 wandered from her face to mine. 
 
 " So you are here, Jennings ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, at Mrs. Massy's request," I replied. 
 
 He walked down the room and stood gazing at 
 his wife. 
 
 " What's the matter with you, May ? " he asked, 
 and the voice was not unkind. I wondered for 
 a moment if I had been wronging him in my thoughts. 
 But the look which Mrs. Massy returned to him 
 was unmistakable. There was hatred in the eyes, 
 eyes pathetic in their sickly light. 
 
 " Nothing," she answered wearily. Her eyelids 
 quivered over the eyes. Massy bent over her, his 
 frame massive and towering ; he laid his great red 
 hand on her head, and looked into her face. I was 
 conscious of a renewal of some struggle, some battle 
 of wills, some contest that was sinister. The frail 
 woman breathing so painfully as she reclined in 
 the chair looked like a hunted bird quivering under 
 the fascinating gaze of some great hungry vulture. 
 And in her eyes was that frank look of hatred and 
 resistance, coming and going, blanching and glow- 
 ing, under the steady scrutiny of her husband. Mrs. 
 Briscoe moved quietly behind the invalid's chair. 
 The scene was one which I would like to have 
 
214 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 avoided and I could not refrain from making some 
 movement of protest. Kish Massy at once re- 
 sponded. Without stirring from his position his 
 eyes turned to me. 
 
 " What are you doing here ? " he demanded. 
 
 " I have told you already I came at Mrs. Massy 's 
 request," I said. 
 
 " To tell her about the song-birds at the concert ? " 
 he leered. 
 
 " No," I said, " she was troubled about some 
 legal point on which I could not enlighten her." 
 
 " Some legal point ? " he queried, his manner 
 more alert than ever. 
 
 Mrs. Massy's fingers rapidly but aimlessly toyed 
 with the fringe of the shawl. 
 
 " Some technicality in the making of a will," I 
 said, determined to leave nothing hidden. 
 
 " By God Almighty ! " swore Kish Massy, jerking 
 back from his wife's chair. His face was like a thun- 
 dercloud, the forked lightning flashing over the brows. 
 
 " Mrs. Massy is anxious to see her solicitor," I said. 
 
 " See damnation ! " He roared the words, rais- 
 ing his right hand, the fist clenched. Mrs. Massy 
 raised two trembling hands as if she would ward off 
 a blow, her body shrinking into the cushions. 
 
 " Ah," she said in a weak voice, " don't. Don't 
 make another scene. I can't bear it." 
 
 Mrs. Briscoe bent over the patient, soothing her. 
 " The mistress must be left alone," she said. " Dr. 
 O'Sullivan said she must have quiet." 
 
 I bowed quickly to the poor inert figure in the 
 chair and walked out of the room and the house. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 MRS. HEFFERNAN MASSY'S indisposition 
 continued. Indeed it was announced im- 
 mediately following the scene in the bed- 
 room that she was quite ill. But her illness was 
 altogether eclipsed by stories of the acts of devotion 
 of her husband. He never left her bedside. He 
 watched over her night and day. To this end he 
 sacrificed his own comforts. He neglected himself. 
 He did not even sleep. He brushed aside all 
 remonstrances. The supreme duty to his suffering 
 wife came before everything. Once or twice I 
 timidly intruded the question of the patient. But 
 nobody appeared to have any definite information 
 as to how she fared. Dr. O' Sullivan said she was 
 still poorly ; he met all cross-examination with a 
 grand blandness. Mrs. Briscoe was only very 
 rarely on view and one could see by her colour that 
 she, too, was putting in a vigil in the sick room 
 which must be at least equal to that of her master. 
 Such visitors as Captain Manning and Colonel 
 Burke were not permitted to see the patient. The 
 doctor, it was proclaimed, had banned all visitors, 
 and Kish Massy was there to personally see to it 
 that the ban was upheld. 
 
 215 
 
216 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 Lady Newell alone succeeded in gaining admit- 
 tance to the sick chamber. It was said she talked 
 her way into it in French. One of the footmen 
 could not resist the temptation to make the inevit- 
 able joke. Lady Newell' s French leave was the 
 subject of titter over the washing of every plate in 
 the pantry. Once on her way from a visit to the 
 patient Lady Newell came to the library for some- 
 thing to read. I questioned her as to Mrs. Massy's 
 condition. 
 
 " Marie ! " she exclaimed with a shrug, " there is 
 no longer any Marie left." 
 
 " I am afraid I don't quite follow that, Lady 
 Newell," I said. 
 
 " Well, there is the room, there is the white bed, 
 and there she lies on it, an outline, a pencil sketch." 
 She made a sudden movement with her ebony 
 walking stick and the strokes were so rapidly 
 eloquent that I could see the outline of a human 
 skeleton across the book-shelves. 
 < I looked hard at her still splendid features. What 
 manner of woman was this ? I asked myself. 
 Have women like her any place in their hearts for 
 the primitive emotions, the fundamental humani- 
 ties ? Not a trace of sympathy for the sufferer 
 ruffled her. How could she speak like this of one 
 who had for her affection, at the very least one 
 whose wine it had been good to drink ? The eyes, 
 like faded woodland violets, the mobile rouged 
 cheeks, the expressive rather full lips, the finely 
 wrinkled, intelligent brow, the rather small but 
 wonderfully chiselled nose, the golden wig, gave 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 217 
 
 nothing away. All the harvest of her beauty was 
 as implacable as the parchment face of a Chinese 
 god. The figure with its curious little limp, a limp 
 that appeared to plead for a former grace, moved 
 down by the book-shelves, the figure that all its gay 
 days had insinuated itself to admiring male glances 
 along the saloons and boulevards of Paris, that had 
 lolled under the bright skies of the Riviera, that 
 had whirled around the ballrooms of Vienna and 
 London. My scrutiny of her failed to discover 
 even the suggestion of the slightest disturbance, 
 although she had come straight from the bedside 
 of her distressed friend, the good Marie. 
 
 She turned to me, having followed up a line of 
 books, saying, " As for the great Kish, what a 
 watchdog he has become ! He looks so very 
 wicked ! Somebody must have given him a great 
 fright ; threatened to take from him his bone. . . . 
 But you know, you saw. Monsieur Paul knows 
 everything in Deerpark." 
 
 "I did not see," I said quietly. 
 
 " But no ? Then you must know he sits by the 
 window in view of the bed, enormous against the 
 
 light, like that " She made an outlandish 
 
 imaginary drawing of a figure with her stick. " The 
 eyes like the eyes of a sphynx ; dumb, watchful, 
 huge, animated, a stained-glass Colossus." 
 
 She followed down a line of fiction, talking inces- 
 santly, her golden head slanted as she read the 
 titles. " What have we here ? Adam Bede. No, 
 I do not read George Eliot -again. One would 
 require so much leisure. . . . Ah, yes, the Kish is 
 
218 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 like a sentinel on the mountain frontier. There 
 can be no more surprises by the enemy. . . . The 
 Autocrat. I know ; it is upon all shelves. Where- 
 ever there is no breakfast there is Oliver Wendell 
 Holmes. . . . Like Saint Peter guarding the 
 Golden Gates : that is now the great Kish. He 
 sleeps on the hearth as the hare sleeps in the heather. 
 And this one with the red cover ? Virgin Soil. 
 Ah, barbarous, anonymous Russia ! Why should 
 we who live in Connacht read Ivan Turgenev, 
 Monsieur Paul ? Do we not all look out through 
 our windows ? Melancholy can do for us no more. 
 ... If they seek a gamekeeper in the Park of the 
 Lord, let them send an angel to summon the great 
 Kish. He is magnificent ! . . . Wuthering Heights. 
 Good, very good, but Bronte might ease it about 
 the relatives in the opening chapters. One has to 
 ask so often who's who. . . . Poor Marie, she will 
 do what she is told now. The fires out of the great 
 Kish eyes have burned her down to the pillow. 
 She is always tired, always on the verge of sleep and 
 always awake. . . . Ah, how came it here among 
 the Puritans, the Ironsides ? La Confession d'un 
 Enfant Du Siecle. I shall take and read it again. 
 I must see if I cry or laugh at Octave and Brigitte 
 after all these years. Ah, we have all lived ! . . . 
 Is that my old phaeton rolling up to the door, 
 Monsieur Paul ! Yes, yes, I know the thud of the 
 old hooves, the tired fetlock. Go and shake up my 
 old coachman, mon ami, but gently, pray, or you 
 may knock the whole — what do the peasants call 
 it ? — ' contraption ' to pieces ! Then I should 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 219 
 
 have to set out on foot and it would be my luck to 
 sink in the bog so black." 
 
 I watched her drive away in the aged phaeton, 
 her golden head lolling scornfully on the drab 
 cushions, the coachman and the old mare full of a 
 heartbreaking sorrow as they bore her down the 
 lawn between the laurels. 
 
 Her visit and her conversation had left me miser- 
 able to the marrow of my bones. I could not settle 
 down to do anything. Everywhere I saw the 
 picture of the stained glass Colossus and the pencil 
 sketch on the white bed. God, what a picture, 
 what a vigil, what a struggle, what a house ! I 
 gazed up at the rows of books on the shelves. They 
 held no magic for me. I walked away, for across 
 them again had come the picture of the watcher by 
 the window and the patient burned down to the 
 pillows of her bed. 
 
 I went to the window and gazed upon the trees. 
 The sap was oozing from the buds and soon the 
 branches would be rolling in a drunken orgy of 
 foliage, chestnut shouting to larch, beech calling 
 to ash, the cherry trees in the orchard laughing up 
 at the. pears, and oziers singing up somewhere from 
 a swamp ! They had been doing that from the first 
 tick of time and the sap would ooze on the branches 
 when the last fire to consume the world would leap 
 at the bark. 
 
 I looked beyond them to the hills, the Connacht 
 hills which make the buckle of the belly-band of 
 mountains which strap the body of Ireland. It is 
 a good belly-band and there is no fear that we shall 
 
220 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 ever heave over into the Atlantic. " The hills often 
 look gay and make men feel happy," I thought. 
 But now they were ashen in a grey light and over 
 them hung a grey sky with white foam scattered 
 upon it from the angry mouth of God. A light 
 rain was washing down the face of the hills and the 
 music it made was an ologone, for it was trying to 
 wipe from them the sorrows of seven centuries. 
 
 Why indeed, I asked myself, should we in Con- 
 nacht read Ivan Turgenev ? Do we not all look 
 out through our windows ? 
 
 ii 
 
 When Mrs. Massy had been several weeks ill 
 under the unwearying oblong eyes of her husband 
 Mr. O'Moore, the solicitor, was fetched from Bally- 
 rea. Broderick, the butler, acquainted me of this 
 fact at the door of Deerpark, and as he did so his 
 timid fat gaze seemed to say, " Ah, a crisis has come 
 at last ! " 
 
 As I crossed the hall the breakfast-room door 
 was open and inside two men were seated by the 
 wall. They sat on the edges of their chairs, dangling 
 their hats between their legs, conscious that they 
 were there because of some extraordinary circum- 
 stance. One was Augustine Massy, the other 
 Doyle the clerk. As I made my way to the library 
 I concluded that they were brought there as wit- 
 nesses to a will which O'Moore had been fetched to 
 execute. The struggle had ended. The woman 
 who held so much in her frail hands had been well 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 221 
 
 subdued by this time ; she had been made to sur- 
 render to the stronger mind. She would do what 
 she was told. 
 
 As I sat at the desk I heard Kish Massy hurry 
 along the corridor. He went in a joyous buzz, his 
 steps more rapid, eager, and at the same time more 
 cautious than I had heard them before. He returned 
 with two other people, bringing them in the direc- 
 tion of the sick chamber. They were the witnesses 
 to the will. The document was about to be signed. 
 The fate of all Deerpark, all the riches that had 
 come to it, was about to be sealed by a drop of ink ! 
 Everything would be done in unimpeachable legal 
 fashion ; righteousness would shine upon the brow 
 of Kish Massy. I hummed a little to myself as I 
 sat at the desk, as men will hum during the seconds 
 which are heavy with fate. 
 
 Twenty minutes or more passed in silence. Then 
 a door opened and two people came along the 
 passage ; they went more quickly than they had 
 come ; they were glad to have it over ; they did not 
 speak to each other ; they were the witnesses to 
 whom no bequests could be made. In a little 
 while another step went along the corridor. All 
 these movements were now as significant to my 
 tense mood as if I were a telegraph operator listening 
 to the dots and dashes of the Morse code on a 
 sounder. As I listened to the little patter along 
 the carpet the dots and dashes said, " This is Mr. 
 O'Moore, the solicitor, a Gladstone bag in his 
 hand and a pleased look on his face. He is joined 
 downstairs by Kish Massy. The carriage waits 
 
222 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 outside to drive him in state to Ballyrea. They 
 come out together, looking very profound. Kish 
 cannot resist an occasional sly admiring glance at 
 the Gladstone bag. Inside it, tied with a red 
 tape, lies the last will and testament of the lady of 
 Deerpark. Kish grips Mr. O'Moore's hands in a 
 strong approving grip of friendship and the carriage 
 drives off. Kish returns to the house with the air 
 of a man of tremendous responsibilities and the 
 gift to sustain them. 
 
 in 
 
 " But he does not return to the sick chamber. The 
 vigil there is ended ; it has ended in the manner in 
 which it was intended it should end. May is quiet 
 in her bed now. All nonsense has been driven out 
 of her head ! He turns into the breakfast-room. 
 He drinks a glass of whiskey and soda, sits down by 
 the fire, his head back, his nose in the air, his eyes 
 half closed, his legs out to the heat. He says to 
 himself : " Well, it's over, everything passed off 
 very well, there was no hitch and nothing was 
 forgotten. No fuss and no excitement and no fear 
 of a question being raised. O'Moore is in possession 
 of a document precious beyond anything that has 
 ever existed. So I can make my mind easy. . . . 
 The priest can now come and anoint May as soon 
 as he likes, and indeed it is about time she was 
 anointed. She is very weak. I thought they'd 
 never get her propped up on the pillows. I think 
 she was putting it on a bit. My heart was in my 
 mouth until she had the name scrawled : I never 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 223 
 
 thought it could take anybody so long to scrawl 
 out a name. I thought I felt myself turning grey 
 while she fumbled with the pen — men often turn 
 grey all of a sudden at a time like that. But she 
 wrote her name all right. So I can make my mind 
 easy. . . . The bishop himself may come to see 
 her, for Dr. Mitchel always thought a lot about 
 May and her azaleas. He will do anything he can 
 for her, anything that is in his power, he will indeed. 
 If it is in his power he will put up a special pontoon 
 bridge from this world to the next, so that she will 
 have no delay but to trip across into heaven. So 
 I can make my mind easy. ... I will do every- 
 thing that a man can do for May. She has her 
 doctor. She has her two nurses. She has her 
 medicine. She can't expect to live for ever no 
 more than any one else. Every one must move on 
 sooner or later and make room for somebody else. 
 She'll have to do the same. So I can make my 
 mind easy. ... I saw a woman dying one time, 
 an aunt of mine, and she passed away without any 
 bother. Just a kind of a shiver and all was over. 
 May might go off like that. If she does everything 
 will be done for her that can be done. I must 
 remember to tell the nurses to cut the string tying 
 her toes together before she's coffined, because I 
 remember they forgot to do that for my aunt and 
 she was spancelled when she was coffined. My 
 mother said it was not becoming, and indeed it was 
 not. They will put coins on May's eyes before they 
 stiffen, and on her hands they will draw long white 
 finest gloves. I'll take care they'll be silk gloves, the 
 
224 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 finest of silk. Flowers will be banked about her in the 
 bed, lilies and tulips and carnations if they are to be 
 had. There will be six tall silver candlesticks, three 
 each side of her when she's laid out, with blessed wax 
 candles burning in them. Every one that gazes 
 upon her then will be sure to remark that she looks 
 peaceful and happy and, sure, if she doesn't she 
 can't say but that it was her own fault. So I can 
 make my mind easy. . . . I'll wake her two nights 
 running and I'll have the old-fashioned wake, but 
 with no noise or singing. The people that come to 
 the wake must be respectable. They'll get all they 
 want in the line of eating and drinking. I'll have 
 legs of mutton, hams, roast beef, fat ducks and 
 game. I'll have a couple of barrels of porter tapped 
 in the barn, and in the house there'll be whisky, 
 brandy, wine, and tea. ' Broderick, I'll say to the 
 butler, ' there must be no stint. 'Tisn't every 
 day we bury our wife.' So I can make my mind 
 easy. . . . All the prayers that can be said for 
 anybody will be said for May. She'll have the 
 benefit of them in three languages : English, Irish, 
 and Latin. The tenants and every one else will be 
 gathering about the house. I hope the bean sidhe 
 will be heard the night before it happens, because 
 the Heffernan family is as old as the next and I'd 
 like the people at the wake to have it to say that 
 they heard the keening. She's the last of the 
 name, too, and that should make the bean sidhe 
 put out a great crying in the dead hour of the night, 
 giving us all the warning. They'll be praising her 
 greatly at the wake, and there may be old people by 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 225 
 
 the bed who can tell that they remember her grand- 
 mother. . . . I'll have her put in two coffins, one 
 of lead and the other of best oak with plain brass 
 mountings upon it. I don't know what age I'll 
 put down for her on the breastplate, but I'll consult 
 some one with knowledge of such things, for they 
 hardly ever give the right age. So I can make my 
 mind easy. ... As to the funeral, I undertake that 
 it will do every justice to May. I'll have men from 
 the shops in Ballyrea giving out broad scarfs of 
 white linen, one for the shoulders and one for the 
 tall hat, of every priest who moves in the procession. 
 Every layman will be given a crape for his hat. 
 The number of vehicles, and of horsemen, and the 
 tenants, and the crowds on foot will be beyond 
 counting. I'll make them admit it was as fine a 
 sight of a funeral as the eye could wish to behold, 
 the old women raising a lament for the dead as we 
 move down the hills to the churchyard of Gorrybeg. 
 I'll be there myself, in a new black suit and a tall 
 hat with a crape streaming respectably down behind. 
 I'll walk three paces behind the coffin, and every one 
 who stands by the road will say, ' The Lord have 
 mercy on the, dead — and there he is himself, Kish 
 Massy, the husband. God comfort him, 'tis a great 
 cross.' That day will be a remarkable and a 
 notable day for me without any mistake. So I 
 can make my mind easy. . . . Poor May, she's very 
 weak, as limp as lard, with a little cold sweat on her 
 upper lip and her nose, and the eyes looking scalded 
 in her head. But what else could be expected. 
 As to what happened between us, that's no concern 
 
 i5 
 
226 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 of anyone. It's all over and done. I'm willing to 
 forget it and it is not worth May's while now but to 
 keep her mouth shut. Even if she didn't what can 
 be made about it ? There was no one there at all 
 but ourselves. There is no witness. And if it 
 came to anything, my word is as good as hers. So 
 I can make my mind easy. ... I'm thinking it's 
 nearly day with her. The life is hardly in her. A 
 little shake and it would flutter out of her like a bee 
 out of a buttercup. If it happens soon everything 
 might be over and done in time for me, with the 
 help of God, to attend the meeting at Leopardstown. 
 So I can make my mind easy." 
 
 While Kish Massy stretched his legs before the 
 fire, his pagan mind revelling in the Christian 
 ritual of death, his vision morbidly intense as a 
 Stringberg drama, I was sitting very still and 
 miserably dull at the desk in the library. Nobody 
 came near me. I was isolated in the midst of the 
 great house. Around me was the heavy sense of 
 tragedy. I was going down with the setting sun. 
 
 " You're about finished in Deerpark, Paul Jen- 
 nings," I said to myself. 
 
 Suddenly the door opened and Kish Massy came in. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 KISH MASSY had opened the door softly 
 and come into the room. He had no sooner 
 done so than the atmosphere of the place 
 changed. I no longer experienced desertion. The 
 feeling of isolation fled. I was keenly alive to quite 
 another sensation. He hesitated as if feeling his 
 way by a quick intuition. I looked up and waited, 
 too. 
 
 " Good day, Paul," he said. 
 
 " Good day, Kish," I said. 
 
 The greeting on both sides was more a feeler than 
 an exchange of good fellowship. It was an attempt 
 by one to sense the mood of the other. Kish Massy 
 stood with an air of indecision for a moment. I 
 sat quite still at the desk. He wheeled a chair 
 about to the fire, still, however, thoughtful. I 
 rose from the desk, but did not move away from it. 
 An abnormal sense of guardedness was manifested. 
 One of Kish's hands ran along the back of the 
 chair, as if he were feeling its smoothness. His 
 eyes were on the chimney-piece. 
 
 " I came in to say that it occurred to me I may 
 have dropped hasty words the other day," he said. 
 227 
 
228 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 I nodded my head a little as he hesitated again. 
 He found it difficult to choose his words and, 
 through caution, I gave him no help. " If I said 
 anything that may have sounded hasty or nasty 
 I should regret it." A hard note in the voice 
 proclaimed that he had no regrets whatever for 
 anything he might have said. " I was, and I am, 
 upset at May's illness." The words this time 
 came out with a decision and a challenge. " It 
 may be that I got into a bad temper." He straight- 
 ened himself at the back of the chair and looked 
 at me as if to say, " Now, it's your turn to say 
 something, damn you ! " 
 
 " It was nothing," I said — " at most a little 
 misunderstanding." My words, even to my own 
 ears, sounded contemptuous, and as I spoke I 
 walked to the fire-place. Kish at the same moment 
 left the back of the chair and stepped on to the 
 hearthrug. We were standing quite close to each 
 other. 
 
 II 
 
 There are moments in the lives of men that are 
 as flashlights, tense moments when innate things 
 are revealed to us. Men look into each other's 
 eyes and are astounded to behold something that 
 puts out all former estimates as one may put out 
 the life of a fly by the pressure of a finger. Kish 
 Massy was never contemptuous of me and I was 
 never contemptuous of Kish Massy by reason of 
 the knowledge we had of each other. Our fami- 
 liarity never bred in either of us a contempt. It 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 229 
 
 was always salted by a toleration founded on good- 
 humoured common sense. Now, in a moment, 
 looking into each other's eyes, seeking, for the first 
 time, something in the depths of each other's 
 humanity, all the old values were gone, the tradi- 
 tional relationship destroyed. New personalities 
 jumped into being and stood confronting each 
 other, antagonists and enemies. It was a great 
 strain to keep up the pretence that nothing had 
 happened, that we were still the same two old 
 mortals. The veils which had been suddenly torn 
 from the tabernacle of our personalities had to be 
 ignored. 
 
 We were standing so close together that we could 
 hear each other breathe. The respiration was 
 quickened immediately following the dramatic 
 moment of revelation, the disclosures of a supreme 
 eye-flash. It was as if the place had become sud- 
 denly laden with the atmosphere of another climate. 
 A sense of oppression appeared to press in upon my 
 temples. I could feel the heat that came from 
 Kish Massy 's body, I watched the perspiration 
 that stood out in his brow in crowded little trem- 
 bling capsules. I scented his laboured breath, and 
 I was quite conscious that he scented my breath, 
 our nostrils quivering with the emotion of the 
 moment. A strange feeling of animalism swept 
 me. I felt I could, at a moment's alarm, spring 
 like a tiger and behave like a tiger. 
 
 My glance, keen and burning, ran down Kish 
 Massy' s body as if measuring and despising his 
 existence. Kish Massy 's glance measured my body 
 
230 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 with calculation and contempt. It was as if I had 
 said to him, " I now see what you are. I know 
 what you are capable of. Do not expect me to 
 forget that attack on a tottering woman. I don't 
 know what happened, I have no clear proof of it, 
 
 but " My eye conveyed the rest. And it was 
 
 as if Kish Massy said to me, " You stand before me 
 in all your little secret soul. Do not expect me to 
 forget your intrigue with my wife over that will. 
 I don't know what you did, I have no clear proof of 
 it, but " His eye conveyed the rest. 
 
 Whatever we might say to each other again, 
 however we might be able to control our feelings, 
 however much we might keep to the conventional 
 toleration of man for man, these words and these 
 thoughts would always lie somewhere about our 
 hearts ready in a provocative hour to burst into the 
 storm of a human passion. And all this had come 
 into our lives in one appalling second ! 
 
 Some instinct more powerful than our hatred 
 kept us from emptying out our charged minds in a 
 torrent of hot words. We held back from the first 
 word, the first overt act, which would have led to a 
 violent physical struggle. The sense that the 
 woman who was in both our thoughts lay at the 
 point of death only a few doors away kept us sub- 
 dued, within the bounds of a deadening oppression. 
 We had to cling to the conventions of existence to 
 tide us over this hour of torment. 
 
 " How is Mrs. Massy to-day ? " I heard my voice 
 asking the question as if it were another being who 
 spoke. And the voice sounded harsh and flat. 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 231 
 
 " No change whatever," Kish Massy replied, 
 his tone just as harsh, his eye upon me for a moment 
 again. And that eye said, " She will soon be dead, 
 and when she is dead out you go neck and crop 
 from Deerpark." 
 
 I moved around to the fire and as I did so my 
 coat touched lightly against his coat. Instinctively, 
 and as if stung, we both pulled back a pace, then 
 regarded each other with a still quickened breath. 
 My eye in that moment said to Kish Massy, " One 
 never knows ! And at all events here I stay until 
 the last moment, if for no other reason, then 
 because it will rile you ! " 
 
 His eyes fell to the grate and seemed to ponder 
 upon the fender. My eyes went to the figure of the 
 nigger boy on the chimney-piece. I became en- 
 grossed in the bony knee-caps, the art which had 
 fashioned them, then the thought came to me that 
 this new sensation with Kish Massy was impossible. 
 The desire to gaze upon him for confirmation of it 
 prompted me to look directly at him. At the same 
 moment his eyes were raised from the fender as if 
 he, too, wanted corroboration of the situation. 
 Our eyes met for a second. The desire to snort 
 at each other was so powerful that Kish Massy 
 raised one of his feet, pawing the hearthrug as a 
 horse paws the ground. I locked my hands behind 
 my back, and the seconds which followed were 
 heavy with suppressed emotion. 
 
 Kish Massy walked up the room to the window, 
 stood looking down at the garden. A silence fol- 
 lowed. I sat on the edge of one of the arms of the 
 
232 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 armchair he had wheeled to the fire. Once he 
 looked back at me, and I knew he was trying if this 
 long-range view would make any difference to the 
 new hostility, the ugly bitterness. And it did not. 
 He again turned to the prospect of the garden 
 outside. 
 
 " How the flowers have bloomed in May's garden ! " 
 he said half absently. 
 
 Yes," I said, " the flowers have bloomed in her 
 garden." 
 
 He moved uneasily. I rose and leaned against 
 the chimney-piece. The stable bell clanged in the 
 yard at the back. The men were quitting work. 
 The faint sound of the timekeeper's whistle in the 
 quarries came down the hills. 
 
 " Everything is bursting into life," he said. 
 
 " Everything is bursting into life indeed ! " I 
 was unconscious, or partly unconscious, of the 
 echoing of his words and of the mockery. 
 
 He made an angry gesture at the window, the 
 familiar short jab of the left arm. He came back 
 to the fire-place. I could hear his breathing again* 
 I could scent the hot sweat of his fat body, and we 
 moved nervously about the hearthrug, like men 
 sparring for openings. He wheeled about the 
 armchair, just turning it on its castors, without 
 shifting it from its position. I pushed a low chair 
 to the fire. 
 
 " Won't you pull down the blinds ? " he asked. 
 
 " No," I replied. 
 
 He put out his hand suddenly and lifting a box of 
 cigars from the chimney-piece he selected one, bit 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 233 
 
 off the end of it viciously and spat it into the fire. 
 
 " Have a cigar ? " he said, thrusting the box 
 toward me without raising his eyes from the fire. 
 He expected a curt refusal. And because I knew 
 he did my hand went into the box, caught up a 
 cigar, I bit the end of it and viciously spat it into 
 the grate, too. 
 
 We lighted the cigars. Kish Massy puffed 
 vigorously, then sat down on the armchair. I sat 
 down on the other chair ; we sat together by the 
 fire, pulling at the cigars in short, quick, angry 
 draughts. Not a word was spoken. Half-way 
 through his cigar he suddenly fired it into the 
 flames. I pulled more quietly at mine after that. 
 I saw him lean back in his chair, his chin up, and 
 his hand jerked down the collar from his neck. He 
 was like a man who felt suffocating. 
 
 I blew out a long white luxurious whiff of smoke, 
 it curled up in the air. He sprang to his feet and 
 made for the door. At the door he hesitated, his 
 back to me, as if he were trying to think of some- 
 thing to say. But no words came and he flung the 
 door open, passed out, and slammed it after him. 
 
 in 
 
 It seemed — at first — curious to me that the 
 slackening off in the vigils in the sick chamber by 
 the master of Deerpark should have led at once to a 
 like slackening off on the part of the housekeeper, 
 Mrs. Briscoe. I noticed that she, attended by the 
 Shah, was more in evidence about the house. Her 
 
234 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 face was quite pallid, but her back, if anything, 
 appeared to have improved its rigid line. 
 
 She was so much restored to the normal that 
 after a week I was honoured with a call at the 
 library. The Shah expressed his approval by 
 walking in first, the moment the door opened. He 
 licked his chumps as he smiled up at me. The 
 housekeeper was so friendly that she accepted a 
 chair in front of the fire. 
 
 Mrs. Briscoe could babble as joyously as any old 
 servant of an aristocratic family ever babbled. 
 When she liked she could be terse as a good play- 
 wright. Nay, furthermore, Briscoe could be signi- 
 ficant. Her habit of pausing between the sen- 
 tences, when she was in a certain mood, gave her an 
 air of mystery. The listener felt he had to conclude 
 a great deal beyond the bare framework of her 
 spoken words. And it was part of her art that 
 when she talked most she said least ; whereas 
 when she talked little she said most. I felt, as she 
 sat down in front of the fire, that she was in this 
 peculiar mood. It warmed my curiosity. - 
 
 M How do you think things are shaping out 
 now ? " I asked. 
 
 She considered the question carefully and said, 
 " I like them better than they were." 
 
 " Has Mrs. Massy improved, then ? " I asked 
 eagerly. 
 
 Briscoe checked my eagerness by her deliberation. 
 She fingered the keys on her ring, looking down as 
 if counting them. 
 
 " Doctor O' Sullivan says she's poorly," she 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 235 
 
 replied, cocking one eye at the hollow of a small key. 
 
 " He's been saying that ever since he came to 
 the house. He says it in every house. He says 
 it of every patient. I don't remember ever hearing 
 him say anything else. He has built up his reputa- 
 tion on the phrase. And it means nothing. He's 
 the parrot of the medical profession." 
 
 Briscoe inclined her head in acknowledgment of 
 my considered views. 
 
 " Doctor O' Sullivan says she's poorly," she 
 repeated in her tranquil way. The repetition was 
 a correction of my snappy manner and at the same 
 time put the responsibility on the doctor's shoulders, 
 leaving Mrs. Briscoe free to entertain her own 
 views. The innuendo was characteristic of Briscoe 
 in her present mood. 
 
 " What do you think yourself ? " I asked, quite 
 humbly. Briscoe put her feet up on the fender. 
 
 "I've seen a great many Heffernans ill," she said, 
 and her eyes seemed to review a whole cycle of 
 Heffernan history as she gazed into the coals. She 
 maintained silence for a great while. She provoked 
 me into an obvious question. 
 
 " Did you see any of them die ? " I asked. 
 
 She looked at me at once and said, " You're very 
 intelligent." 
 
 " Did you see any of them die ? " I repeated, 
 sticking to it. 
 
 "No," she said, " never ! " 
 
 " And still they died," I ruminated — " every one 
 of them except one, and she's " 
 
 " They died, every one of them," she replied, 
 
236 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 " because they were killed, one way or another — 
 mostly shot — some by accident, others by design, 
 and when nobody else did it they did it themselves." 
 Her hands fondled her knees and she looked up at 
 the chimney-piece, saying at last in a lifeless voice, 
 " Most of them were put out of the way ; there was 
 ^always somebody who wanted to put them out of 
 the way." 
 
 The remark was scr significant that I was unable 
 to speak for some time. Out on the palms of my 
 hands, on the hinge at the back of my neck, over 
 the temples, a light perspiration broke. The long 
 figure of the housekeeper, hooked on the chair, 
 appeared to grow appallingly sinister. There was 
 no mistaking not what she said but what she meant. 
 
 " How is Mrs. Massy at present ? " I asked in a 
 low voice. 
 
 " At present," she replied slowly and deliberately, 
 " Mrs. Massy is weak. She's so weak that a fright, 
 a shout, some threat, a little rough shake — some- 
 thing that was nothing and that nobody would 
 notice — might very well finish her." The words 
 seemed to me to come directly from the same train 
 of thought that said " most of the Heffernans were 
 put out of the way." And the words seemed, too, 
 in close affinity to the thought which I had credited 
 Kish Massy with as he sat before the breakfast-room 
 fire, dreaming of her death : " The life is hardly in 
 her. A little shake and it would flutter out of her 
 like a bee out of a buttercup." 
 
 I wiped my brow with a handkerchief as Briscoe 
 resumed her meditation by the fire. A feeling 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 237 
 
 that the life of the house was sickening came to 
 me. 
 
 " One good thing was done for the patient," said 
 Mrs. Briscoe, stooping more over the fire. I waited 
 for the inevitable pause. " She was put through it 
 one day last week." 
 
 ' Put through what ? " I asked, although already 
 I interpreted the words. 
 
 " Something that went against her grain," said 
 Briscoe, and I knew she meant the making of the 
 will. 'To do something that went against the 
 grain was always good for the Heffernans, no matter 
 how weak they might happen to be." 
 
 ' The desire to resist always braced them ? " I 
 suggested. 
 
 " It did. It was their best tonic. I always saw 
 it and I always said it. Nobody about her seems 
 to notice it — but since then she's come on." 
 
 I looked with a new eagerness at Briscoe. And 
 as I gazed on her a sudden swift change came over 
 her whole appearance. She jerked up, cocking her 
 head. Her expression became one of extraordinary 
 attention to something outside, her attitude that 
 of a listener. Her old features hardened, something 
 grim and dogged in their expression. Her body 
 seemed as keen, as tense, as nervy, as a setter 
 suddenly crouching for his bird. I could see that 
 she had quite forgotten me in her sudden concen- 
 tration on the movements outside. Her eyes went 
 to the Shah, as if expecting something from him. 
 That animal lay close to the fender, on his side, his 
 paws over his face, in a heavenly sleep. Briscoe 
 
238 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 rose with a quiet, swift caution, crossed to the 
 door with steps catlike in their nervous buoyancy, 
 and softly opened the door, her grip upon it at the 
 same time expressive of an amazing power. She 
 looked down the corridor, first one side then the 
 other, closed the door quietly with the same powerful 
 grip and came back to the fire, her eyes upon the 
 cat. He still slept tranquilly. I was conscious, 
 and it made me more uneasy still, of some indefinable 
 likeness, some understanding or bond, between the 
 cat and the woman. By the time Mrs. Briscoe had 
 got back to the fire-place she had recovered herself. 
 "It was only the butler," she said, seating herself. 
 
 " Why, who did you think it was ? " I asked. 
 
 She evaded the question and it was a deliberate 
 evasion. Instead she said, " Yes, we have to be 
 very careful, very watchful, have we not, pet ? " 
 She touched the Shah with her shoe as she spoke, 
 looking down at him. He removed the paw from 
 over his eye and blinked up at her, going to sleep at 
 once again. 
 
 " Why have we to be very watchful ? " I asked, 
 including myself in the company. This time 
 Briscoe answered, but it was an answer to a question 
 not put. 
 
 " Since Lady Newell spoke to me," she said. 
 " Since she put it into my head." 
 
 " Put what into your head ? " I demanded. 
 
 It was no use. Briscoe answered another ques- 
 tion not put. " The nurse is not with the mistress 
 now," she said. " She is alone by herself, in a sort 
 of doze. And she is not to be left in the room by 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 239 
 
 herself, Lady Newell says, especially if " But 
 
 Briscoe stopped. 
 
 The Shah had suddenly and noiselessly bounded 
 right on to his feet, like a ball which had been 
 hopped on the carpet. His face, the whiskers 
 bristling, was towards the door, and his back 
 humped up until it described a rigid half-circle. 
 His thick tail, the guarantee of his pedigree, made 
 a few angry quick swishes. In that attitude he 
 remained. 
 
 Briscoe, at the first stir of the cat, rose from her 
 chair, made the same noiseless movement to the 
 door as before, her whole body tense. Footsteps 
 came down the corridor. There was no mistaking 
 them. They were the footsteps of the master of 
 Deerpark, albeit that I thought he, too, walked 
 with unusual softness along the carpet. Briscoe 
 waited, still tense, behind the door until he had 
 gone some way ahead, then she made one swift 
 movement and was gone, the door closed. She 
 was so swift that the Shah, who had also moved for 
 the door, got cut off. He was left with me in the 
 library. He stood there without a movement, his 
 eyes fixed on the slit of the door at the jamb. I 
 stood looking at him, the footsteps outside convey- 
 ing to me that both Kish Massy and Mrs. Briscoe 
 had gone in the direction of the chamber where the 
 life struggle was so critical that " a fright, a shout, 
 some threat, a little rough shake — something that 
 was nothing and that nobody would notice — might 
 finish her." 
 
 While I stood there I began to see the woodland 
 
240 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 violet eyes of Lady Newell in a new light. It was 
 she who had " put it into " Mrs. Briscoe's head. . . . 
 Kish Massy's footsteps passed back from the 
 direction of the sick chamber. Shortly after Mrs. 
 Briscoe entered the library. 
 
 "I'm so sorry/' she said to the Shah. " And 
 was the poor pet left all alone ? " 
 
 The Shah brushed the front of her dress with his 
 fur, a sign that she had been forgiven. 
 
 " That was Mr. Massy," Briscoe said, coming 
 down the room a little. " He was in her chamber 
 before I reached there." Then after a pause, 
 " He was standing by the bed when I opened the 
 door. I don't think he heard me because he 
 started — made a little spring — when I drew near." 
 
 " Why should he make a little spring ? " I asked. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know. I won't wrong no 
 person nohow. He said to me when he recovered 
 himself, ' She's sleeping easier than she used to,' 
 and I said, ' She is indeed.' Then he went out." 
 
 " And is she sleeping easy ? " I asked. 
 
 Briscoe's face brightened, " Very much easier," 
 she said. " Good evening, Mr. Jennings." 
 
 " Good evening, Mrs. Briscoe." 
 
 They went out together, the Shah looking back 
 at me from the door as if I had overlooked some- 
 thing. 
 
 " Good evening, old man," I added. 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 241 
 
 IV 
 
 The bulletins from the sick chamber improved. 
 First, Mrs. Massy continued to sleep well, she was 
 taking her medicine quite easily, her temperature 
 went down. Then her appetite revived. She was 
 able to manage a cup of weak tea and some toast. 
 The limb of a chicken tempted her. She was able 
 to sit up in the bed. It did not distress her to talk. 
 She admitted some visitors, and Lady Newell read 
 to her daily. She was able to look over the paper 
 for herself. She began some inquiries about affairs 
 in the house, on the property. She was able to sit 
 by the fire. She signed some cheques. She walked 
 about the room. She found a glass of wine rather 
 agreed with her. She asked for a slice of ham and 
 a potato with her chicken. Some early strawberries 
 from Colonel Burke were greatly relished. She 
 refused to take any more of Dr. O' Sullivan's medi- 
 cine. She had a tiff with Lady Newell about the 
 behaviour of Jaques, the toy chocolate Pomeranian. 
 There was quite a flare-up, ending in Lady Newell 
 kissing her on the cheek and in Mrs. Heffernan 
 Massy ordering a new leash with gold mountings for 
 Jaques. Finally, she sent to the village for Miss 
 Silver, the dressmaker. 
 
 Broderick, the butter, reported ■ that the master 
 of Deerpark was run down. He refused his soup. 
 He found fault with the dishes. He was liverish. 
 He went for long lonely rides on the fieriest of the 
 colts from his stables. He dismissed one of his best 
 trainers. He was inclined to find fault with every- 
 16 
 
242 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 body. He said nobody wanted him. He struck 
 his brother Augustine a vicious blow in the chin. 
 He went to Leopardstown races with Lord Elmtree 
 and stayed away a week ; he returned alone, and 
 with a cold in the head. He was given to wandering 
 about the passages and rooms of Deerpark, in a 
 sort of little trot, his head down, the heavy chumps 
 hanging at the ends of his jowls, like a hound who 
 had lost his quarry. By the time Mrs. Massy was 
 able to take the air again, to go for a drive in her 
 carriage, Mr. Massy looked as if he would take to 
 the bed. When she joined a little afternoon party 
 in the lawn, taking part in a gentle game of croquet, 
 he sank before a fire in a back room, the servants 
 telling each other with a leer that " master was 
 studying form." 
 
 When the weather was warm enough Mrs. Massy, 
 Lady Newell, Mrs. Briscoe and the Shah left Deer- 
 park for Ballinacoorty, a bracing spot overlooking 
 the Atlantic twenty miles away. There a nice 
 house was placed at their disposal by Colonel 
 Burke. 
 
 The same night Kish Massy was carried up to 
 bed by the butler, two footmen and a pantry boy. 
 He was noisy in his room. He was noisy next day. 
 He wanted to climb up telegraph-poles on the 
 public road. In the end he settled into it in the 
 dining-room. 
 
 " He's drinking like a herring," said Broderick 
 the butler. " There were sixty dozen in the cellar 
 and now — I have not the heart to reckon them. 
 They've got a fearful punishing." 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 243 
 
 His lugubrious brother Augustine and Doyle the 
 clerk accompanied him the day he drove off to the 
 railway station at Ballyrea en route for Mount St. 
 Paul. If the bearded Guest Master of that famous 
 Cistercian monastery saw Kish Massy arrive with 
 quaking limbs and a passion for singing the same 
 little out-of-tune song over and over again, he had 
 the pleasure of packing him off, cured, a month 
 later. He returned to the hills looking for recruits 
 for the Anti-Treating League. Lally the footman, 
 who never drank, became a member and wore the 
 button. 
 
 A week later Kish Massy, accompanied by the 
 Right Hon. the Earl of Elmtree, left on a trip to 
 the United States of America. The trip was, the 
 butler told us, undertaken on the best medical 
 advice. 
 
 " But what about the pale blue real estate 
 business in New York city ? " Betty asked naively 
 when she heard the announcement. 
 
 - Not a word," I said. " Hold your " 
 
 " Nostril ? " Betty suggested. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE ground of the Ballyrea fair green was 
 sodden and smelt evilly. Men and women, 
 cattle and sheep, ploughed bravely through 
 it. They moved in a close confused medley. Men 
 constantly made quick short journeys hither and 
 thither. They moved with little sense of direction, 
 half blindly, shouldering each other out of the way 
 without compunction. The women, wrapped in 
 warm bright shawls, their skirts tucked up over 
 their petticoats, their beefy legs solid in the ground, 
 stood mute and sceptical attendants on the pas- 
 sionate men. Wild-eyed bullocks, dribbling at 
 the great mouths, made lunges about the crowd. 
 Sheep took dispirited little trots whenever there 
 was an opening, some rattling their fleeces, others, 
 newly shorn, looking naked and wronged, for there 
 was a cold sting in the autumn air. The constant 
 whacking of sticks on the haunches of cattle sounded 
 like a tattoo above the shout of the fair, the dull 
 slopping in the wet ground. Herds moved about 
 their flocks, whistling and crying, angry drill 
 masters. Drovers hung on the verge of the fair, 
 beaten looking mortals with swollen bare feet and 
 
 244 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 245 
 
 swivel eyes, ready to take charge of the little lots 
 of animals which now and again became detached 
 from the main centre of the mart. . Young country- 
 men stood talking to each other, eyeing a girl 
 whenever one was to be seen, their feet in puddles, 
 sticks horizontal under their arms, indifferent as to 
 the eyes of the passers-by they endangered. Rau- 
 cous voices sounded from the inside of tents where 
 refreshments were being served. Farmers and 
 cattle buyers moved about among the beasts, their 
 words brief and sharp and shouted when they 
 spoke. An unreasonable resentment, and open 
 distrust of everything said and done, a love of 
 violent contradictions, an abandon to exaggeration, 
 a belief that every man there had come to best 
 some other man, a rush to get out of it first, alive, 
 and, if possible, unbested, seized the fair community 
 like a fever. The very mouths of the men, active 
 and angry, seemed slit in their faces for the energetic 
 business of the fair. The silence of the women, 
 their patience, aloofness, was like a protest against 
 it all. They stood about in a dumbness which 
 seemed to cry, " We were made to bring forth men 
 for better than this ! " 
 
 In the streets of the town between the shops 
 horses were being ridden up and down, crowded 
 together ; men leaned from their saddles bargaining 
 with buyers ; others made short sprints of their 
 nags whenever they found room, to show off their 
 paces, whacking the brutes on the quarters as they 
 rode, their coat-tails flying, a battle-light in their 
 faces. Here the long mouth of a horse gaped, his 
 
246 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 eyes wild, as a man read his age by his teeth ; there 
 a mare was blowing after her wind-pipe had been 
 gripped to test her wind. Men struck each other 
 on the palms of the hands as they bargained. Little 
 knots of eager people listened to the disputes. 
 Small boys made sudden dives between the horses, 
 risking their skins to cross the street, through pure 
 love of the adventure. A blind man, tall, tranquil, 
 his sightless face to the sun, came down the pathway 
 shouting, M Halters ! Halters ! " The other side 
 of the street a tinker woman in her bare head, a 
 bright petticoat, a light grey shawl, cried " Halters ! 
 Halters ! " and it was like an echo of the blind 
 man's voice. In a side street a ballad singer and 
 his wife were singing a song to a traditional air, a 
 song about Robert Emmet, and selling song sheets. 
 About them was a group of young men and young 
 girls, attentive, silent, sympathetic, and behind 
 them an old man with a white beard, who smiled, 
 who had been a Fenian, and behind him a Peeler 
 with a grim black muzzle. 
 
 I had left the ballad singers and was turning into 
 the fair green when the figure of Captain Manning 
 loomed ahead of me. He travelled sturdily, about 
 him was a bodyguard of shepherds, their sheep 
 crooks in the air. He had the look of a man who 
 was leading a forraging party. He wore a half 
 tall hat, a loose black morning coat, dark tweed 
 breeches, limp yellow buttoned gaiters somewhat 
 crumpled on the legs, heavy square-toed boots. 
 He gripped an umbrella in the centre. He was 
 sprayed all over by the mud of the fair. He 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 247 
 
 travelled over the sodden ground with the step of a 
 man who was used to it and who found it agreeable. 
 His heavy head was stooped as he listened to the 
 words of a small farmer. He had reached the sheep 
 pens before I overtook him. 
 
 11 
 
 Captain Manning was in good humour, almost 
 talkative, for he was at home and happy in this 
 atmosphere. * A good fair, with a strong dash of 
 anger and shouting and crowds, men and beasts 
 thrown together higgledy-piggledly in a confined 
 space, with buyers who know how to pay for a 
 good beast when they saw one, this was the Captain's 
 ideal of a purposeful life. He saw nothing in 
 civilization beyond it. And he had again gotten 
 the top price for all the animals it suited him to sell 
 from his pastures. 
 
 We moved away together from the heart of the 
 fair, walking up and down where it was less con- 
 gested. I related my experience of the morning's 
 business. The Captain advised and criticized. . . . 
 I had no right to sell the ewes ; he never parted 
 with a ewe at that time of the year, except she was 
 gone beyond the beyonds. Springers were very 
 dear and scarce. He thought I did very well with 
 the two long tails. £20 apiece was very good money 
 as prices went. 
 
 " You're having a very quiet time at Deerpark 
 thse days," he said suddenly. 
 
 " Yes," I replied, "I'm all alone there in my 
 glory." 
 
248 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 " When is Massy coming back from America ? " 
 
 The Captain spoke in the blunt dogmatic manner 
 of the cattle dealer ; sometimes he used the vivid 
 phrases of peasant speech. A spot of black wet 
 earth had splashed high on his cheek-bone and was 
 drying out there a pale yellow, like a wart. 
 
 " I have no idea when he returns/' I replied. 
 " We do not correspond and his movements are 
 altogether unknown to me." 
 
 " What was it brought him out there at 
 all ? " 
 
 " Nobody seems to know definitely. There was 
 something about the best medical advice at the 
 time of his sailing. But I really know nothing." 
 
 " Medical advice indeed ! " cried the Captain. 
 " A baggage like that to be talking about medical 
 advice." 4 
 
 A small flock of sheep, recently shorn, looking 
 nearer to the deer in their skin, went close by in 
 front of us, bleating and confused. 
 
 " Ah ! " said the Captain, drawing a deep breath, 
 " that is the loveliest scent in the world ! Do you 
 find it, Jennings ? Clean and sweet ! There is 
 nothing like the smell of a sheep fresh from the 
 dipping on an autumn morning." 
 
 The smells of the fair which I had been smelling 
 all the morning had made no appeal to me whatever. 
 They were, I thought, a trifle elementary ! But I 
 said nothing. 
 
 " Massy '11 be home soon," said the Captain with 
 sudden decision. " He can't stand that place, 
 New York, on his allowance. The money goes 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 249 
 
 there like chaff from the sieve — every little breeze 
 taking some of it." 
 
 " I don't know that he has an allowance — outside 
 of his own stables," I said. " I don't know that 
 he has anything from Mrs. Massy." 
 
 " Oh, then, he has an allowance from Mrs. Massy. 
 I know that. She made him an allowance from the 
 day of the marriage and she made it to him on my 
 advice." 
 
 The Captain ploughed through the mud, allowing 
 his feet to slip gently at each step, his sturdy air 
 that of a man who knew what he was about in this 
 world. " If she didn't make that fellow an allow- 
 ance he'd have got hold of everything that belonged 
 to her and then it would be a case of " O Fare-thee- 
 well ! " to Deerpark and all that it holds." 
 
 " I suppose an allowance was the best arrange- 
 ment," I admitted. " But I daresay Kish con- 
 sidered he did not get enough." 
 
 " Of course he considered he did not get half 
 enough. Did you ever hear of a man who marries 
 into a place or property who does not believe it was 
 not half good enough for him ? He becomes an 
 old woman, always dissatisfied, grunting and 
 grumbling like a little bloated fat pig. If there's 
 one mortal I hate it's a man who has bought a 
 place or a property or a position by selling his 
 sex." 
 
 " I think Kish Massy looked on marriage a bit 
 anxiously — but patronizingly," I said. 
 
 " And there he is in New York now, for what 
 only the Lord knows, writing home making fresh 
 
250 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 demands of money upon her. What's more she's 
 gone and sent him money." 
 
 " That I was not aware of either," I said. 
 
 Captain Manning stood to emphasize what he was 
 about to say. He raised the hand which clutched 
 the umbrella in the centre. He looked like the 
 trunk of some strong oak with a solitary branch 
 growing out of it. 
 
 " I was over in Ballinacoorty with Mrs. Massy 
 yesterday," he said, " and I advised her to refuse 
 point-blank the last demand he made and she has 
 refused it." 
 
 " It will break poor Kish's heart," I said. 
 
 " Heart," scoffed the Captain. " When had any 
 of them Massy's a heart that you could see on a white 
 plate ? " 
 
 To this question I could offer no answer. 
 
 " If he has any sense of decency at all," declared 
 Captain Manning, " he'll come home, as he must 
 know that the woman will soon be drawing near to 
 the time of her lying-in. They're expecting it early 
 in January." 
 
 in 
 
 Suddenly the whole scene took on a most far- 
 away and fantastic look for me. Something seemed 
 to revolve under my scalp. I found difficulty in 
 pulling my legs along in the mud. I had to suppress 
 a short harsh laugh. But shouts, primitive words, 
 sentences in traditional arguments, resounded on 
 all sides as the business of the fair proceeded and 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 251 
 
 these shouted words in some irritating way became 
 part of the struggle for lucidity in my brain. . . . 
 " The two-year-olds will never leave me at the 
 money. I'd see them roasting in hell first. . . . 
 You broke your heart with your nine pound ten. 
 Come here my decent man. Listen to me now. . . . 
 I'll split no difference at all, not if I never stood 
 over a beast again. . . . Put the raddle on her 
 rump now, Johnny, and no more about it. . . . 
 . . .That I may be as dead as my father if I do. . . . 
 I'll hold you a shilling she'll fatten like a fool. 
 That I may never feel the weight of a luck-penny 
 in me paw again if she doesn't. . . . Done ! 
 But you're the hardest man that ever walked 
 behind a cow." 
 
 The babble of the mart went on as we turned 
 back by the pens. Sticks flourished over the red 
 shapes of the cattle ; the crooks of herds shot at 
 the white limbs of sheep. A scuffle took place 
 inside a tent, the shapes of struggling men bulging 
 out through the canvas. The tent-pole swayed like 
 a mast in a storm. An old man, bent almost in 
 two with age and infirmity, clung to the shaft of an 
 upturned cart, coughing hideously, the sheep 
 bleating around him. But the confusion which 
 had gripped me made all this remote and unreal. 
 So far was my capacity for lucid thought gone that 
 I found myself dwelling upon something even more 
 primitive than the Ballyrea fair. My thoughts 
 jumped back to the period before the Flood ! I 
 remembered, in an insistent and curiously vivid 
 way, the story in the Bible of Sarah, the wife of 
 
252 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 Abraham, who, in her tent one day " laughed 
 within herself " because she overheard the promise 
 at the tent door that she should bear a child. 
 
 " I suppose you heard that Mrs. Massy is ex- 
 pecting a baby ? " asked Captain Manning. 
 
 " N-n-no," I said confused, and angry with 
 myself for being confused. " I had no idea." 
 
 ■' Well, she is, then," he said. " I suppose it 
 will go hard with her. . . . Did you sell, Stephen ? 
 Thirty two shillings a head for the hoggets ? It's 
 not bad at all considering. Springers are very 
 slow. Are you holding back still, John ? You have 
 no courage. It's bad to be always behind the door. " 
 
 He was already absorbed in the affairs of his 
 neighbours, and turning his solid back walked away 
 from me without more ado. 
 
 I walked from the fair green through the streets, 
 in the direction of the hotel where my car awaited 
 me. I wanted to get away as quickly as possible. 
 The streets were full of the noises of the fair. The 
 voice of the blind man crying " Halters ! Halters ! " 
 sounded over the uproar. A horse struck fire from 
 its hoof on the road. Ash plants were everywhere 
 rattling. Men swarmed around the counters of 
 public-houses, the smell of porter came out the 
 doors, a band of merry tinkers clattered up the 
 road, driving a flock of unbridled donkeys before 
 them, wild with joy at the heat of the fair. And 
 as I went along the words kept knocking in my 
 brain, " They're expecting it in January. . . . And 
 Sarah said, God hath made me to laugh, so that all 
 that hear will laugh with me." 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 AS not infrequently happens in Ireland the 
 month of October turned out fine and warm, 
 the summer persisting through short days 
 and falling leaves. In consequence Mrs. Heffernan 
 Massy and Lady Newell remained by the sea at 
 Ballinacoorty. We were into the month of Novem- 
 ber when, accompanied by Colonel Burke, they 
 returned to Deerpark. 
 
 Mrs. Massy looked astonishingly well. I beheld 
 her as one beholds a wonder which periodically 
 becomes more a wonder. The nervousness which 
 appeared to have shattered her health early in the 
 year was practically gone. She had got brown 
 from wind and sea and sun. Her outlook was 
 cheerful. As she ascended the steps I noticed for 
 a moment that her movements were deliberate, 
 that she wore rather loose-fitting garments. She 
 was almost gay as she acknowledged the smiles 
 which greeted her on all sides. 
 
 Lady Newell had not permitted either the sun, 
 the wind, or the sea to take liberties with her 
 complexion. It was still the same even pallor 
 tinder the golden wig. But her figure showed a 
 disposition to plumpness. Colonel Burke was very 
 pleased with the results of the sojourn, his liquid 
 
 253 
 
254 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 brown eyes merry in the large face, the flesh of the 
 cheeks veined and mottled and bunching in light 
 purple ridges whenever he smiled, the enormous 
 lower lip hanging, a perpetual advertisement of 
 his spacious aristocracy. The Colonel was always 
 happy when attending on semi-distressed females. 
 Lady Newell in one of her ironic moods had said 
 of him, " Poor Algernon has a passion for women 
 who are passe. I suppose he finds in their lavender 
 charms something that stirs a memory of his purple 
 youth. And what clover he is in here in Con- 
 nacht ! " But the Colonel did not really confine 
 his sympathies to semi-distressed ladies. He was 
 the sort of man whom shabby dogs or outcast cats 
 approached with confidence, took his pats with 
 gratitude, accompanied him some way on his road 
 and left him with a wistful look on their tired faces. 
 His passion for the amalgamation of workhouses 
 arose from the same sense of fundamental sympathy, 
 an instinct for the half abandoned. 
 
 They were all in very good spirits, hungry after 
 the drive over the hills, and we had quite a joyous 
 luncheon in honour of the return. 
 
 " I think, Agwatha," lisped Colonel Burke, " you 
 must confess to the bishop afwesh." 
 
 " But why, Algernon ? " 
 
 " You know you awe getting fat and that is to 
 say you awe getting fond of Connacht. You've 
 almost admitted as much you 'self." 
 
 " It is too terrible to think of," said Lady Newell. 
 " The humiliation would bring me to the door of 
 death. Ah, Algernon, there may be a hell after all ! " 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 255 
 
 " That is most splendid praise of Connacht," said 
 Mrs. Massy. 
 
 " And my appetite, my gluttony for the food, what 
 is it that I could not devour ? " asked Lady Newell. 
 
 ' You awe mowe the epicu'e in dwinks, ce'tainly," 
 drawled the Colonel. All his " r's " seemed to slip 
 fatally down the great underlip. 
 
 " And the mere fact that you talk so much about 
 what you can eat and what you can drink looks as 
 if you are being absorbed by the local environment," 
 said Mrs. Massy. " You are nearly down to the 
 level of all our animalism." 
 
 " Don't talk to me of it ! " exclaimed Lady 
 Newell. " Give me things to eat, food, meat, 
 fats ! The twenty miles of air over the hills has 
 made me into a wild beast. . . . What have you 
 on the sideboard, Broderick ? What secrets lie 
 under the cover dishes ? The big one there — ah, 
 mountain mutton ! How lovely the carving knife 
 looks in your pale white hand ! Partridge did you 
 say, and woodcock and a pheasant ? Where had 
 they the shoot ? But it does not matter, nothing 
 matters now except the carving knife ! Broderick, 
 the exquisite twirl of your wrist is full of hope. 
 Broderick, I have confidence in you. Marie, 
 Algernon, Monsieur Paul, do you not all hear that 
 music ? The rattle of dishes, the little shuffle of 
 Broderick as he prances in his slippers before the side- 
 board. And now, mon Dieu ! somebody is bringing 
 mushrooms ! I scent them afar ; they make me swoon! 
 I see nothing except the blade of a knife, the prong 
 of a fork, the wing of something on a bright plate ! " 
 
256 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 n 
 
 I think we all had something of Lady Ne well's 
 relish for the luncheon, and Broderick was really 
 very good to us. When we had eaten right heartily 
 we dallied over the table. 
 
 " There is nothing now so good as a smoke," said 
 Lady Newell. She selected an Egyptian cigarette, 
 looking supremely happy as she lay back in her 
 chair. Colonel Burke and myself declared for cigars. 
 
 " Chdcun d son gout," said Lady Newell, striking a 
 match. Although she never cultivated the smoking 
 habit, Mrs. Massy liked the scent of tobacco and 
 she liked little lapses when among her best friends. 
 
 Lady Newell looked at Colonel Burke through 
 her half-closed woodland violet eyes and said, 
 " After a liqueur — the splendid gift of the subtle 
 alchemists of Chartreuse — a whiff of the East. 
 What do you say, Algernon ? " 
 
 " I always thought you did you'self well, Ag- 
 watha." 
 
 " And only a little while ago I might have cried, 
 ' My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains 
 my sense as though of hemlock I had drunk.' " 
 
 " Yes, I remember the lines. But give us mowe 
 of it, my deah. Is there not something about 
 ' Dance and Provencal song and sunburnt mirth ' 
 and about ' beaded bubbles winking at the bwim ' ? " 
 
 " Out, out, Algernon, but do not expect me to say 
 it. I can only think of it ! Keats in that hour of 
 his was divine." She closed her eyes. 
 
 Mrs. Massy fingered a Chinese ash-tray, but her 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 257 
 
 eyes wandered through a window to the sky. I 
 had already noticed these little detachments, these 
 returns to the patch of sky over Deerpark, the 
 reading of some new wonder in the grey scroll 
 overhead. A curious, mysterious smile lit her face 
 at odd moments, almost spiritualizing it, and now 
 her lips moved for a second as if she were communing 
 with herself, away from our company. Once or 
 twice, too a quick little shudder seized her frame. 
 We passed some minutes wholly in silence — some 
 of those great companionable minutes of silence that 
 come only to those who have the gift of fellowship. 
 
 " Has Mrs. Briscoe stayed on at Ballinacoorty ? " 
 I asked after a time, having, as they say, suddenly 
 bethought myself of the housekeeper. The question 
 roused all three. They looked at me in surprise. 
 
 " Could it be possible you have not heard ? " 
 asked Mrs. Massy. 
 
 I shook my head. 
 
 " Briscoe ! " cried Lady Newell. " There is no 
 longer Briscoe." She blew a white whiff of smoke 
 from her lips into the air, as if Briscoe had some 
 ethereal passing of the kind. 
 
 ' Why, what on earth happened ? " I asked. 
 
 " Bwiscoe has been twansfowmed into a cwab," 
 
 said Colonel Burke. The flesh creased in comical 
 
 puffs about the brown eyes as he chuckled. I knew 
 
 by these manifestations that he had ventured a joke. 
 
 ' Transformed into what ? " I asked. 
 
 " Into a cwab." 
 
 " Non, non, Algernon, not a crab but a lobster." 
 ' Yes, my deah, a lobsteh. It is much the same 
 17 
 
258 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 thing — a cweatu'e out of the sea with a gweat many 
 legs. Bwiscoe is now a lobsteh, Jennings, a lob- 
 steh, a blue-black lobsteh." Some of the puffs on 
 the cheeks became vivid, shiny, through enjoyment 
 of his own joke. He pulled a long pull at his cigar. 
 
 Mrs. Massy smiled, too, as if this new surprise 
 were part of the hidden things which had been 
 lighting her face. 
 
 " I heard of women who were turned into hares 
 by fairies," I said. " It's quite a common practice 
 of the Good People when annoyed — but a lobster ! 
 I never heard of anybody being done into a lobster." 
 
 " Well, Briscoe has been done into a lobster and 
 walked hindways into the sea," declared Lady 
 Newell. " Never more shall we see poor Briscoe." 
 
 " And as for me," said Mrs. Massy, " I shall never 
 ask to touch lobster again." 
 
 ■' It has been a season of lobster — let us call it 
 Lobster Summer," said Lady Newell. 
 
 " Lobsteh soup and lobsteh salad ! " drawled the 
 Colonel. 
 
 " When she did not cook them," declared Lady 
 Newell, " she talked of them or ate them or drilled 
 them about the bottom of the baskets like Prussians. 
 You should hear their shells crackling in the 
 kitchen ! " 
 
 " I'm afraid " I began. 
 
 " When did you i'wst suspect Bwiscoe, Agwa- 
 tha ? " Colonel Burke asked. 
 
 " When I saw St. John the Baptist coming up 
 the path to the door with his basket, saying, ' All 
 alive ! All alive ! ' " 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 259 
 
 "St. John the Baptist ! Agwatha ! " The 
 Colonel's tone was one of admonishment. He did 
 not like her irreverence. 
 
 " Ah well, that is my sin," said Lady Newell. 
 " Look not as if you may have to go to the stake 
 for me, Algernon ! And I only speak of the picture 
 as I saw it. A man, Monsieur Paul, with rich thick 
 black beard combed only by the wind, with hair 
 black as the raven hanging like thatch from the 
 head, eyes burning black, and clothes so much 
 abbreviated — almost sans culottes ! A man who 
 dwelt in a cave, who would eat of the wild honey 
 and of the locusts if he could only get them. And 
 he sold to all the lobster." 
 
 " But what has all this to do with Briscoe ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " What has it to do ? Everything ! " Lady 
 Newell made a sweep of the hand. 
 
 " Mrs. Briscoe has got married again," said Mrs. 
 Massy quietly. She was gazing out through the 
 window, the little smile playing about her mouth. 
 
 " Married ! Surely ? " I was, as Lady 
 
 Newell might say, blank of the face. They all 
 enjoyed my amazement. 
 
 " Mawwied she is," confirmed Colonel Burke. 
 " We we we all at the ceremony a week agone." 
 
 " Who on earth has she married ? " I asked. 
 
 " John the Baptist," Lady Newell replied. The 
 Colonel raised his plump hands and turned the 
 palms dead against her. 
 
 " Well, then, John the Lobster. That is what 
 they call him in Ballinacoorty." 
 
26o THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 " Yes, that is what they call him in Ballinacoorty. 
 In such pwimitive places they always call each 
 other names. It is ill-bwed, the weapon of the 
 ignowamus." 
 
 " Emerson does not agree with you in that, 
 Colonel," I ventured. "In his essay on Plato he 
 says no orator can measure in effect with him who 
 can give good nicknames." 
 
 " Then I don't agwee withEmewson at all. He 
 w'ote watheh well but dogmatized too much in 
 epigwams — always a dangewous dissipation. Weak 
 dogma and strong epigwam, and vice versa, come 
 nimbly fwom some lop-sided minds. I hold stwongly 
 that nicknaming is the weapon of the ignowamus. 
 It is the handmaid of scuwwility." 
 
 The Colonel was in a combative mood after his 
 glass of wine. 
 
 " I stand by Emerson and Ballinacoorty as 
 against Algernon," said Lady Newell. 
 
 " Besides, John the Lobster does not mind being 
 called John the Lobster in the least," said Mrs. 
 Massy. She drew a vase of flowers to her and 
 scented them. 
 
 " Am I to really understand," I asked, " that Mrs. 
 Briscoe is now Mrs. John the Lobster ? " 
 
 " She'd be very indignant if you were to under- 
 stand anything else," Mrs. Massy replied. 
 
 " When I saw Briscoe one day taking the basket 
 from him to carry it over the black rocks I knew 
 she was lost to us. I saw her fall sprawling, a 
 dozen times, over the wet weeds, but still she clung 
 to it, John the Lobster following her in his bare 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 261 
 
 feet, jumping like a goat from rock to rock. ' Mon 
 Dieu ! ' I said, ' Briscoe is going from us. She's 
 off with John the Lobster to his cave. It is en- 
 chantment ! She will become his beast of burden, 
 John the Lobster's beast of burden ! ' Marie would 
 not believe me when I spoke." 
 
 " I concluded you exaggerated, " Mrs. Massy said. 
 " But when I found Briscoe doing her hair into 
 barrel curls and taking to wearing pink blouses 
 with ribbons at the throat and the wrists — well, I 
 knew then that the world was once more shaken to 
 its foundations." 
 
 " Ah, it was so lovely, Monsieur Paul ! " Lady 
 Newell said. " Briscoe in her barrel curls and 
 ribbons sitting at the open window upstairs over- 
 looking the sea, watching John the Lobster in his 
 boat putting down the lobster-pots. And then 
 there was that magnificent evening when she was 
 with him under the brown sail, the old boat racing 
 over the waves to Galway where they went to 
 buy the Claddagh ring." 
 
 " It was a most astonishing womance," agreed the 
 Colonel. 
 
 " And Briscoe had a great stocking of money," 
 exclaimed Lady Newell. " She had been hoarding 
 it up ever since the horse kicked Briscoe in the 
 stomach and inflammation did the rest. Would 
 you believe it, she was in a shot-silk costume when 
 she went down to the cave and poured all her money 
 into John the Lobster's hands. He told me himself 
 how she came like a bird of Paradise»on the wing." 
 
 "I'm afwaid, Agwatha," chided Colonel Burke, 
 
262 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 " John the Lobsteh was too confiding to you. Your 
 ' foweign ' manner made him unsuspecting and too 
 confidential." 
 
 " Yes, he told me all," agreed Lady Newell. 
 " ' She come to me and I salting a few gurnets,' said 
 he, ' and the next thing the coins, silver and gold, 
 was pouring like a stream into me palms and I 
 holding them together. So when I saw that now, 
 says I, 'tis the man I'll be entirely for I'll have me 
 own nobbie on the sea and a crew by hire, going 
 out into the deep places for the mackerel and the 
 herring. Me nets will be in every tide and it's tired 
 counting the catch the women will be the time I 
 do reef me sails be the quays of Galway, or maybe 
 round be Kinsale to make bargain with the Scotch- 
 men. And says I to Herself and she standing 
 fornist me like an angel in bright colours, From 
 this day out, says I, they'll always be white bread 
 in the house and red meat the round of the year 
 and you yourself, me heart, putting the shag tobaccy 
 in me briar pipe the evening I do be coming home 
 to you in the house.' He was so droll, with the big 
 tears in the black eyes." 
 
 " You are acquiring the remote Connacht manner 
 very fast, Lady Newell," I said. 
 
 " But why not, monsieur ? Am I not intelligent 
 and a foreigner ? " 
 
 " And I'm afwaid she's given you a watheh 
 highly coloured idea of Bwiscoe's man," said Colonel 
 Burke. " He's quite a wespectable fishewman and 
 his weal name is John Mulcahy. As to his cave — 
 it's a cottage." The merry brown eyes twinkled. 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 263 
 
 " We were all there yesterday afternoon and had 
 tea with the family," said Mrs. Massy. " And 
 Briscoe is quite happy." The mysterious smile 
 played about her face. 
 
 " I can scarcely credit it still," I said. " Shall 
 we never see Briscoe in Deerpark again ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Mrs. Massy. " She's coming for 
 her things one of these days." 
 
 " Have the papehs come yet, Jennings ? " Colonel 
 Burke asked. " I'm anxious to see them. To- 
 morrow I go to Dublin to move that wesolution at 
 the Amalgamation confewence. They'll muddle 
 the whole thing again if I don't insist on " 
 
 By common impulse we all three rose from the 
 table. The Colonel had touched a subject that had 
 broken up many little gatherings. I took my leave 
 of the ladies without any delay. Mrs. Massy 
 crossed the room with me to the door. She inquired 
 if any personal letters awaited her. 
 
 " I don't think so," I said. 
 
 " Nothing from America ? " 
 
 " Not that I noticed." 
 
 There was a faint shrug of the shoulders as much 
 as to say, "It is really of no importance." Then 
 she smiled and her smile seemed to say, "I am 
 immensely happy." 
 
 I bowed and passed down through the house. 
 
 in 
 
 I had forgotten even Briscoe's astonishing romance 
 until I reached the hall. There on the table lay a 
 cablegram which had evidently been delivered 
 
264 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 while we sat together. It was addressed to Mrs. 
 Massy. Of course it should have been taken to her 
 at once. Briscoe's absence was already expressing 
 itself in little household slacknesses ! I felt pretty 
 sure the cablegram came from Kish Massy, and as I 
 raised it I wondered what he had cabled about. 
 Possibly an urgent whip for money. The letter 
 refusing further supplies, of which Captain Manning 
 had spoken, would about have reached him by this 
 time. I smiled grimly as I thought of the expec- 
 tant Kish in New York. 
 
 There was no servant about and I walked back 
 with the message to the dining-room. The place 
 was, however, already deserted. I went upstairs 
 and found Mrs. Massy and Lady Newell in the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 Mrs. Massy was standing with her back to the 
 window, a little table in front of her covered with 
 cut flowers from the greenhouses. She was humming 
 in a happy undertone as she arranged these flowers 
 in blue vases. At the fire Lady Newell was 
 seated on a Chesterfield armchair, a discarded 
 magazine on her lap, her golden head fallen to one 
 side. She was taking her siesta. I crossed the 
 room lightly and handed Mrs. Massy the cablegram. 
 
 " Found it in the hall," I said. 
 
 She leaned across the flowers to receive it, the 
 scent of the blooms filling the air. As she did so 
 she smiled, and, nodding in the direction of the 
 sleeping beauty, I withdrew quietly. 
 
 " Deerpark has not been so happy for many a 
 day," I thought as I left the house. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 MOTHER and myself, at breakfast next 
 morning, were somewhat surprised to see 
 Doctor O'Sullivan drive up to the door in 
 his trap. 
 
 " Nobody ill in the house, is there ? " I asked. 
 
 " Not that I know of," said my mother. 
 
 Doctor O'Sullivan was shown in, all apologies, 
 but we induced him to sit down and drink a cup of 
 tea. 
 
 1 You haven't been to Deer park this morning," 
 he said, turning to me. 
 
 " No, not yet. Mrs. Heffernan Massy returned 
 from Ballinacoorty yesterday afternoon." 
 
 " And went within an ace of going off again last 
 night," said the doctor, putting milk in his tea. 
 
 I looked my surprise. " Going off to Ballina- 
 coorty again, do you mean ? " I asked. 
 
 " No, much farther this time. On a voyage to 
 the great Beyond." The doctor sipped his tea. 
 
 " Dear me, has she been knocked up again ? " 
 my mother asked. 
 
 The doctor nodded. " I spent the best part of 
 
 265 
 
266 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 the night in Deerpark," he said. " It was a case 
 of touch-and-go/' 
 
 " But she was not in the least ill yesterday after- 
 noon," I broke in. " Quite the contrary." 
 
 " Oh, well, something happened after you had 
 left," said Doctor O' Sullivan. "The blow fell sud- 
 denly. Lady Newell found her prostrated in her 
 room — in fact lying unconscious in a chair." 
 
 " Good God ! " I said. 
 
 " But she has pulled through all right ? " asked 
 my mother. The room became heavy with a 
 poignant anxiety. 
 
 " She has pulled through so far," said Doctor 
 O' Sullivan. " But it was a terrible struggle, the 
 like of which one does not care to see more than 
 once in a lifetime. Things did not improve as the 
 night wore on, and early this morning a baby 
 arrived." There was silence in the room for some 
 seconds following this announcement. Vivid leaves 
 from the Virginia creeper outside rattled crisply 
 on the window-panes as they dropped. 
 
 " My goodness ! " exclaimed my mother at last. 
 Her face bore an expression of stunned amazement. 
 In a vague way I thought she was making some 
 rapid mental calculations and puzzling over 
 them. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, Mrs. Jennings," said Doctor 
 O' Sullivan, wiping his moustache with his handker- 
 chief, " a baby girl was born, one of these mysterious 
 little lives that are hurried into the world before 
 their time for the Lord only knows what reason. A 
 seven months' chijd." 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 267 
 
 Again there was silence. I crunched some bread- 
 crumbs between my fingers. 
 
 My mother leaned a little across the table to the 
 doctor. 
 
 " Did the baby live, doctor ? " she asked, her 
 voice full of a moving sympathy, the maternal chord 
 in her own heart, the mystery that is the very 
 essence of all womanhood, profoundly touched. 
 
 " The baby lived," said Doctor O'Sullivan, glanc- 
 ing up at the leaves fluttering on the window-panes. 
 As he raised his eyes to the light I could see he was 
 quite fagged after the night's ordeal. 
 
 My mother leaned back in her chair, murmuring, 
 " What a strange world ! " 
 
 ' You know Lady Newell ? " asked the doctor, 
 turning to her. 
 
 " Yes, quite well." 
 
 "I'm afraid I must stand up for her in future." 
 Doctor O'Sullivan was the type of man who could 
 not stand Lady Newell. His world was in exact 
 ratio to the territory over which he enjoyed a prac- 
 tice ; he was, in the most literal sense, local and very 
 popular. And all Lady Newell's instincts led her 
 to battle against everything that was local, to chal- 
 lenge every one who was popular. 
 
 " I must admit she behaved splendidly last 
 night," said Doctor O'Sullivan. " They all lost 
 their heads when Mrs. Massy was discovered uncon- 
 scious, but Lady Newell soon had them in order and 
 under discipline. She took charge of the affairs of 
 the house. As to her behaviour in the sick room 
 until the nurse arrived — and indeed after the nurse 
 
268 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 had arrived — it was a revelation to me. I would 
 not know her to be the same Lady Newell." 
 
 " She was extremely attached to Mrs. Massy 
 and Mrs. Massy to her," said my mother. 
 
 " And I don't believe anybody else could have 
 managed Mrs. Massy so well under the more than 
 distressing circumstances. I never in all my ex- 
 perience saw a patient so hysterical. For two 
 mortal hours, Mrs. Jennings " 
 
 The doctor's eyes wandered to me. He pulled 
 up. He had evidently been struck with the thought 
 that the theme was one which should not be devel- 
 oped in my bachelor presence. I was inwardly 
 relieved that he thought so. 
 
 " I'm so very glad you've got things right again, 
 doctor," broke in my mother. Like so many women 
 she was a diplomatist at these embarrassing mo- 
 ments, helping the doctor to break off his disclosures 
 the while she paid his professional skill a compli- 
 ment. 
 
 " The crisis is over for the present," said the 
 doctor, " but things are far from being all right 
 again. In cases of this kind, Mrs. Jennings, one 
 never knows ! It's rather soon to prophesy, and the 
 mother is only very poorly. And as to the baby 
 — well, what could one expect ? It's a weakling." 
 
 " Isn't it dreadful to think that her husband 
 is away while all this is happening ? " said my 
 mother, suddenly remembering Kish Massy. Doctor 
 O' Sullivan rose from the table and crossed to the 
 window. 
 
 " I found myself under something of an obliga- 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 269 
 
 tion in that matter," he said, " and took the liberty 
 of cabling to him this morning. This is a copy of 
 what I said." 
 
 I crossed to the window and read on the slip of 
 paper— 
 
 " Mrs. Massy gave premature birth to daughter 
 this morning. Mother critical condition. 
 
 " O'Sullivan." 
 
 " Don't you think I was right in acquainting him 
 at once ? " the doctor asked. 
 
 " Quite right," I said. 
 
 " Lady Newell, who refuses to leave Deerpark 
 until all danger is past, is anxious to see you, Jen- 
 nings. I wanted a little blow of fresh air and de- 
 cided to drive down to you myself, killing two birds 
 with the one stone. Perhaps we had better drive 
 back to Deerpark together when you are ready to 
 come." 
 
 " I'm anxious to go at once," I said. 
 
 " Good," declared Doctor O'Sullivan. 
 
 As we drove away together he informed me that 
 Lady Newell had dispatched a groom the night 
 before to Ballinacoorty for Mrs. Briscoe. She had 
 probably arrived by this time. 
 
 When Deerpark came in sight through the trees 
 some memory of what had passed there appeared to 
 come back to the doctor. 
 
 " My God," he murmured a little absently, " what 
 that gentle soul went through last night ! " 
 
270 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 ii 
 
 Arrived at Deerpark, the doctor at once hurried 
 upstairs to the patient. I went to the box at the 
 back of the hall door to attend to the letters. The 
 house was curiously alive to little hushed noises, 
 the drift of leaves on the steps outside an accom- 
 paniment to them. I had a feeling of nervousness 
 as I fumbled for my key. The voices of two maids 
 in conversation behind the portieres came to me 
 quite clearly. 
 
 " What time were you up, Lizzie ? " 
 
 " A little after five. The shrieks wakened me." 
 
 " So you heard them, too ? " 
 
 " Heard them ! Will I ever forget them ? " 
 
 " Wasn't it awful ! But you weren't in the 
 room? " 
 
 " No, I wasn't in the room." 
 
 I closed the letter-box with a bang and the voices 
 stopped. Slippered feet scudded down in the 
 direction of the kitchen. I crossed the hall mur- 
 muring, " My God ! " and thinking how half the 
 terrors of life, even the knowledge of life, come to us 
 through overheard snatches of idle conversation. 
 Other servants appeared as I made my way through 
 the bouse ; they looked very much like people who 
 had been up all night. My coming seemed to bring 
 them some measure of relief, as if they were glad to 
 see some male of authority in the house. Broderjck 
 the butler ambled up to me on the stairs. 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 271 
 
 " No change in the condition of the mistress, sir," 
 he said. " Nurse has just been down for hot water, 
 and says there is no change. And Mrs. Mulcahy — 
 Mrs. Briscoe that was — has arrived." 
 
 Something like a wan smile passed over his flabby 
 face and I could see in his eye that he was itching 
 to say, " I was up all night, sir." 
 
 I hurried up the stairs and as I made for the 
 library Lady Newell came along the corridor from 
 the opposite direction. 
 
 There was no change whatever in her appearance. 
 She did not look in the least as if she had been up 
 all night, or that she had done any nursing. She 
 had evidently made a careful toilette, secured her 
 rouge pot, used it with accustomed skill, arranged 
 her wig, and all was well. Her aristocratic limp 
 along the corridor was neither quicker nor slower 
 than ordinarily ; the hand on the knob of the ebony 
 stick was as easily firm as its wont. The woodland 
 violet eyes were as warm, the lips as expressive, as 
 the first day I beheld them. 
 
 " Bon jour, Monsieur Paul," she said. 
 
 " Bon jour, madame." 
 
 I bowed her into the library. She limped down 
 the room, threw open the window looking down 
 on the garden, and seated herself there, breathing 
 hungrily the morning air. I went to the writing- 
 desk. 
 
 "I've heard what has happened," I said. 
 
 " And you survived," she said, drawing her chair 
 more to the ledge of the window. 
 
 I was greatly shocked, " I said. 
 
272 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 " But why ? " she asked. 
 
 " Need you ask, Lady Newell ? " 
 
 " Did you not know that Marie was enciente ? " 
 she demanded, her face full in the light. 
 
 " Well, yes, Captain Manning said something to 
 
 me, but " I was confused, disconcerted by her 
 
 direct question. I think she deliberately wanted 
 to embarrass me. 
 
 " The way of the world, mon ami, that it is all 
 that it is. There is a new soul in Deerpark, a soul, 
 oh, so petite ! When I saw the little morsel, I said, 
 ' What brings you to us in such great haste ? What 
 have you come to tell us that we do not know ? 
 What can you do that we have not already done ? 
 What pain can you speak of to us that we have 
 not spoken of to each other ? Are we not all bad 
 enough and good enough as it is ? ' And the 
 morsel that came in so great a hurry said nothing, 
 Monsieur Paul, nothing at all — only the little heart 
 ticked, ticked, fluttering under the shell-white 
 breast, saying, ' Ah, I may have my day, too ; I may 
 have my day, too ! ' It is the way of the world." 
 ■ Her eyes wandered down to the garden. 
 
 " There, Monsieur Paul, listen to that," she said, 
 raising a finger. I listened. The drift of dry fallen 
 leaves shifting about the paths, blown by little spas- 
 modic breezes, sounded up from the garden and 
 above it, sharp and clear, the song of the robin- 
 redbreast. 
 
 " What a piping, what a dolorous tune ! " she 
 exclaimed. "It is the birds' Gregorian chant, 
 churchyard melody, the Dies ircB ! " 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 273 
 
 in 
 
 I turned uneasily in my chair at the desk. Lady 
 Newell looked at me. 
 
 " Won't you tell me what happened yesterday 
 evening ? " I said. " Everything seemed so peaceful 
 when I left. Certainly nobody expected anything 
 of the kind to happen." 
 
 " Marie and myself were together," she said. 
 " She was arranging some flowers by the window ; 
 I took a magazine to the fire. But I had eaten 
 too much and fell asleep. When I woke up I 
 was alone. Marie had fled. I saw the table, the 
 flowers, two vases overturned, water on the carpet, 
 flowers on the floor. Ah, all is not well, I said. 
 Then there was an envelope on the floor. I picked 
 it up." 
 
 1 The envelope of a cablegram ? " I asked, sud- 
 denly remembering the message I had taken to Mrs. 
 Massy the previous evening. 
 
 " A cablegram, yes. I went to her room. There 
 she was on the chair, her head back, rigid, white, 
 the open cablegram under her hand on the lap. 
 She was like one dead. I gave the alarm and they 
 came. We put her to bed, the doctor came ; it was 
 a night of struggle, and this morning the baby 
 arrived. Monsieur Paul," — she leaned out on 
 her chair to me — " you remember all the dolls Marie 
 had dressed last winter ? Dolls in the long baby- 
 clothes ? They were given to the children of the 
 18 
 
274 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 peasants at Christmas, and afterwards trampled into 
 — what you call it ? — the borheens ! Well, when 
 the baby came this morning, Marie's baby, we had 
 no garment for it. We had to borrow from the 
 woman at the lodge." 
 
 The tragedy of the baby-linen was beyond my 
 male ken. My mind went back to other details. 
 
 " What became of the message, the cablegram ? " 
 I asked. 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Lady Newell, " that was the 
 punishment, the blow, the bringer of all the woe, the 
 arrow aimed at poor Marie. It flew how many 
 thousand miles, and it struck home true, a poisoned 
 dart ! " 
 
 " You say it was on her lap when you found her 
 unconscious ? " 
 
 " It was on poor Marie's lap." 
 
 " Did you read the message, Lady Newell ? " 
 
 " I am Marie's friend. I knew everything of her. 
 I am a woman. What do you think ? I read the 
 message." 
 
 "Is it a great secret ? " 
 
 " Oui, oui, a very great secret." 
 
 " May one ask if it came from her husband ? " 
 
 " One may ask if it came from her husband, mon- 
 sieur. It. did. From the Kish." 
 
 I drummed my fingers on the writing-desk. Lady 
 Newell rose, taking a paper from some secret place 
 in ^the laces of her sleeve. She limped to the 
 desk. 
 
 " I put the message away. What a scandal if 
 the servants found it on her lap and read it ! 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 275 
 
 No-body has seen it — none must see it — except 
 you. " 
 
 " And may I read it ? " 
 
 " I think you had better read it." 
 
 She lay the thin wafer of paper on the desk before 
 me, and on folding it out I read this cablegram — 
 
 To Mrs. Massy, Deer park, Ballyrea, County 
 Galway, Ireland. Have instructed my solicitors to 
 file petition of divorce against you naming your para- 
 mour and lover Paul Jennings as co-respondent. 
 
 K. Massy. 
 
 I read the words slowly and carefully twice over, 
 noting the villainous phrasing. I was dimly con- 
 scious that Lady Newell had limped down the room, 
 getting me between herself and the light of the 
 window so that she might study the effect of the 
 news on me. I endeavoured to read it for the 
 third time, but the words swam. Something burn- 
 ing hot had jumped into my eyes. Dull knocks 
 sounded over my temples and through my whole 
 body; down into the very depths of my bowels a 
 sensation which I had never experienced before 
 seized me. A knowledge that some wrong had 
 been done, a mean revolting wrong, gripped me 
 like a paralysis. I felt ravaged to the soul. 
 
 " Well, Monsieur Paul, what do you think ? " 
 Lady Newell asked. 
 
 "It is a lie, a vile lie," I said, a hatred for the 
 very document itself sweeping me. " And he knows 
 it to be a lie." 
 
276 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders, moving back again 
 to the window. 
 
 " Yes, a liar, a cowardly liar ! " I cried, jumping 
 up. I could see the figure of the woman sit back 
 on the chair by the window. The blood was pump- 
 ing in hot squirts into my head. 
 
 " You are impossible," she said. " You cannot 
 see that it is not the Kish alone." 
 
 " Not the Kish ? " I cried with asperity. " There 
 is his name. If it is not he, who is it ? " 
 
 " Somebody with him. Somebody of the Ameri- 
 can culture. Somebody to whom he has been 
 relating the manner of your life here and who has 
 scented scandal and money in the situation. 
 
 " Some blackmailer ! " I cried. 
 
 " Ah ! that is the word," exclaimed Lady Newell. 
 " How I have strained for it the whole morning, 
 racking my poor brain ! Blackmailer ! What a 
 lovely word ! You know, then, the Kish was 
 refused money ? " 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " This was the reply, the return blow, the prompt 
 from his American friends." 
 
 " How do you know that ? " 
 
 " Because the Kish is too much of Connacht to 
 think of divorce. It is more of the American cul- 
 ture, and the French culture, too. Their minds 
 run that way. Kish is of Connacht, like the rest 
 of you, and you have not the civilization, the 
 talent, for the divorce. You are too much of the 
 savage, the primitive, giving and taking in marriage, 
 bringing up — what you call it ? — long families, 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 277 
 
 grubbing about in the ground for food, living like 
 the animals ! You have the harsh religious mind, 
 like my old servant, Suzanne, from Brittany, who 
 was always saying, ' Lord have mercy on us, Lord 
 have mercy on us ! ' She would sit in the sun under 
 the cherry trees in blossom shivering at thoughts 
 of the grave. She was in her coffin years before 
 she died ! Ah, there is an American mind at the 
 back of the Kish ! " 
 
 I moved away from the desk to the fire-place. 
 Extraordinary ! I had no sooner stepped on the 
 hearthrug than an oppressive sense of the A^ery 
 physical presence of Kish Massy came to me. I 
 could hear his breathing, the little heated puffs of 
 his nostrils. I could smell the scent of the sweat 
 of his fat body. It was the sensation which had 
 come to me the evening I read hatred in the corner 
 of the oblong eye. I spat into the fireless grate. 
 
 " He's the blackmailer, he's the liar, whatever 
 way you reason," I cried. "He is the man, the 
 husband, who put his name to that vile message, 
 who sped the poisoned dart. The venom of his 
 soul is in the conception. By God, I would like to 
 choke him, to squeeze the last breath out of his 
 body." 
 
 I strode over to the book-shelves. But Lady 
 Newell was following up her own train of thought. 
 She said, " His American friends saw all the possi- 
 bilities of a divorce ; they reckoned up the value of 
 Deerpark in — what you call it ? — hush money. I 
 know these Americans. They come to us in flocks 
 to France. They saw the possibilities of the case." 
 
278 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 Saw the possibilities of the case ! Like a red 
 flame on my heated brain they blew upon me, vivid 
 as a nightmare. I could see the court, the judge, 
 the witnesses, the barristers, the listeners. I could 
 hear counsel for the petitioner telling the world of 
 the life of intrigue, of debauchery, in Deerpark. 
 I could hear him polish me up as the seducer of 
 another man's wife. I could see myself being spied 
 upon by servants. I could hear my visits and 
 doings in the mansion of the wife dated, labelled, 
 ticked off, legally interpreted. I could see my 
 movements, my sojourns in rooms, my appearance, 
 my behaviour, sifted and skilfully worked up to 
 the day of horror when I had been discovered by 
 the husband himself in the woman's bedroom en- 
 deavouring to bully her into the making of a will 
 to disinherit her own husband ! I had made the 
 husband's life such a hell upon earth that he had to 
 fly his own home, compelling him in sheer self- 
 protection to drag the whole painful story before 
 the court ! . . . The possibilities of a divorce 
 story lay to the hand of counsel ! By the time 
 he had finished with me nothing would remain 
 except for some loafer of the court, who had beaten 
 his own wife the night before, to spit upon me as I 
 walked out the door. Kish Massy the wronged 
 would get his decree of divorce a mensa et thora. 
 My God, what an irony ! Mary Heffernan divorced 
 from Kish Massy's table and bed ! I laughed 
 harshly . . . Then his figure loomed again in my 
 mind's eye as I had seen him snorting at me on 
 the hearthrug. My hand was on a book and I 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 279 
 
 hurled it across the room. It clattered into the 
 grate. Another and another volume followed, orna- 
 ments crashed into the fender, the books sang 
 through the air. I emptied out the length of a 
 shelf and then only stopped, the sweat pouring 
 from my temples. 
 
 All the time Lady Newell sat by the window, 
 silent, immovable. 
 
 " He's a liar ! " I cried, turning to her again. 
 Some instinct that she was against me, that she 
 might even defend him, came to me, galling me to 
 the liver. 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " You know him to be a liar and yet you sit there 
 saying nothing, looking at me as if this was not 
 damnation ! " I shouted. 
 
 Her lips smiled. I strode over to her. 
 
 " You know what else he is besides," I said in a 
 low voice. 
 
 She looked up at me coolly. 
 
 " Well ? " she asked. 
 
 " You knew him to be what he was in conscience, 
 in intent, in heart ! " I said. " You yourself had 
 him watched. The housekeeper knew him for what 
 he was. The very cat smelt murder on his heels." 
 
 " Bah ! " she cried. Something of guttural con- 
 tempt in the word was like another stab at me. 
 
 " Your contempt is all for me," I cried. ' You 
 will stand in with the Kish. You too are turning 
 your eyes to the future master of Deerpark, to the 
 usurper ! " 
 
 She sprang to her feet. Something in her appear- 
 
280 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 ance, something that was as a racial fire within her, 
 checked me. I was conscious of something in the 
 blood and temper of the woman which matched my 
 own passion even in its white heat. I felt that at 
 last this being with her rouged cheeks and golden 
 wig had been stirred, her spirit fired. Her splendid 
 self-control was gone and instead something of the 
 hysteria stored up during her night in the sick room 
 was getting the better of her. 
 
 " Bah ! " she cried again, the breath quickening. 
 " All your thoughts, all your words, are of yourself, 
 or of him, the Kish. What do I care for the Kish, 
 for you ? Nothing ! What about Marie ? Is 
 there nothing of her in your mind, in your heart ? " 
 
 The words cut me like a whip. They cut me in 
 their vehemence and in their truth. What about 
 Marie indeed ? Had I not been thinking of myself 
 only ? Had I not always been thinking of myself ? 
 And if the arrow which had been fired had brought 
 me the pain I had known, what had it not brought 
 to the woman at whom it had been aimed, who had 
 gone down under the blow ? Had I indeed any- 
 thing in my heart worthy of that woman ? I shrank 
 at the sudden prospect of all of woe, of pain, of 
 misery, that had come to her: 
 
 " Marie was above you all ; so much above you 
 all ! " cried Lady Newell. " Yet she was the one 
 who was at the pleasure of mean little spirits ! Bah ! 
 I hate you all ! " 
 
 I stood speechless before that suddenly aggres- 
 sive, quivering woman, seeing more in her eyes, her 
 gestures, the thrills of her body, than she could 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 281 
 
 ever make vocal by words. She moved from the 
 chair to the corner of the desk, tottering a little 
 without her stick. 
 
 ' You don't understand," I said, moving to the 
 centre of the room. She swerved about to me at 
 once. 
 
 " What is it to me what you say, what you feel, 
 what you suffer ? " she exclaimed. " Nothing ! 
 Leave Marie to her pain ! Mon Dieu ! her pain ! 
 Who can tell me of that, of what it was — I who 
 had her arms about my body in her agony in the 
 night ? Was it not my agony, too ? " 
 
 I shrank from her, for back to my mind came the 
 look in the doctor's face as he murmured, " God ! 
 what that gentle soul went through last night ! " 
 Back to my mind, too, came the conversation of 
 the servants behind the portiere. There was terror 
 for me in the vehement, passionate woman who 
 confronted me. 
 
 " What does it matter now who has done the 
 wrong, who has sped the dart ? Nothing ! All is 
 levelled, all is made inconsequent. All your strug- 
 gles and deceits and threats — all your talk of divorce, 
 of reprisals — all these are as the dry leaves on the 
 path, blown aside by the wind, put out of the way, 
 forgotten. For that is in the house which makes 
 us all as nothing. Death is in the house ! " 
 
 I made a movement, like a man who instinctively 
 puts up his hand to shield himself from some vicious 
 blow. 
 
 " Oh, you don't believe ; you would not have 
 that ! " she cried. " But I tell you that Death is 
 
282 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 in this house. Where have I seen it ? In the 
 terror of her eyes, in the green froth at the corners 
 of her mouth, in the grey of her gums, in the hands 
 fumbling on the quilt, hands searching, groping, 
 for something that will never be found. Ah ! I 
 tell you Marie has been tried beyond her strength." 
 " I won't believe it," I cried. " You are over- 
 strung, morbid." 
 Lady Newell leaned toward me, speaking rapidly — 
 " Briscoe came but now. Marie looked up at her 
 and did not know who it was came to her. She did 
 not know the woman who has been her slave all her 
 life. She was so weary the eyes closed, she went 
 off into a little sleep, one of the little sleeps that 
 make easy the last journey. And Briscoe — who 
 could see Briscoe and forget ? A black figure, a 
 symbol of the Fates, over the bed, grim watcher 
 over the comings and goings of the race, her head 
 hunched low between her shoulders, her body sway- 
 ing and swaying ! Ah ! there was sorrow ! And 
 then the head raised, thrown back, the long arms 
 going out over the bed in a great gesture of woe ! 
 How these peasants can pray, how they can beseech 
 God and storm heaven ! She sang, Briscoe sang, 
 . . . ' Ochone, Mary Heffeman ! Ochone, Mary 
 Heffernan ! ' There was tragedy in the notes, 
 there was woe ! And the words were words for a 
 woman dead, and the cry for a Sept that was no 
 more. Listen ! I had been there all night. I 
 had gone with Marie through the storm of the 
 night's agony and never flinched. But now I fled 
 the room, and from the door as I went I saw Bris- 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 283 
 
 coe's black figure sink at the foot of the white bed 
 like a drowning woman. Ah ! there was sorrow, 
 there was tragedy ! " 
 
 " My God, my God ! " I cried. I was feeling like 
 a man who grows groggy from receiving blows in 
 the face. 
 
 ' That is it," cried Lady Newell, " mutter to your 
 God and let all your weak prayers be for yourself. 
 What have you ever done for Marie ; what have 
 you ever brought to her that has not been a 
 pain ? " 
 
 ' You know nothing of our lives, nothing of our 
 bond, our friendship," I cried. 
 
 " Friendship ! Bond ! Bah ! What is the 
 friendship you speak of but a name for treachery ? 
 What is your bond but something in which you have 
 wrapped up your secret ? Do not speak of her now. 
 Leave her to her pain ! She had not for you the 
 passionate darkness of Betty Carolan ! When you 
 speak of her again let it be over the mill-race ! " 
 
 She was* so passionate that she tottered from the 
 desk to a chair, gripping it by the back. 
 
 " Friendship is your name for deceit," she cried. 
 " Oh ! I hate your sort — you with your half -pas- 
 sion, you who would and wouldn't, you with skill 
 in attentions that cost you nothing, you who hoard 
 up your own passions, the meanest of misers, you 
 who crush a rose on a woman's breast and kiss the 
 petals ! Bah^ )4te you all ! " 
 
 I made an attempt to speak. She cut me short. 
 Her venom was appalling. 
 
 " Death is in the house ! " she cried. " I tell you 
 
284 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 Death is in the house. Last night with her arms 
 about me, in her hour of agony " 
 
 She stopped suddenly. Somebody was coming 
 down the corridor outside. She made a movement 
 of recovery, tottering back to the writing-desk, 
 gripping it with hands that shook. A breeze from 
 the window blew the flimsy slip of cablegram along 
 the blotting-pad and the movement, catching my 
 eye, filled me with panic lest it should be discovered. 
 
 I strode across the room, reaching out for it, my 
 fingers itching to tear the hateful thing to shreds. 
 The footsteps stopped outside. 
 
 " No, no, do not destroy it," Lady Newell ex- 
 claimed, suddenly gripping my wrists as I reached 
 for the cablegram. The strength of her grip amazed 
 me. She was wiry in a physical sense beyond 
 belief. But the hatred of that message, the terror 
 that it should be discovered, filled me with a blind 
 passion. I jerked her hands from my wrists. She 
 still clung on, our hands swaying upward, a foolish 
 struggle taking place a yard from the desk. A final 
 wrench was more powerful than I intended. She 
 lost her grip, tottering back, and in the confusion 
 her wig was pushed from her head, falling down 
 behind her back. A little cry broke from her as 
 her foot, in its backward sweep, trod on the wig. 
 She swayed so dangerously that I put out my hand 
 to steady her. She quaked under my touch, her 
 body shrinking, and I stepped back appalled. Where 
 Lady Newell had stood a moment before there now 
 cowered an apparition, a nightmare — an old woman 
 with a head bald and shining, gruesome in its white- 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 285 
 
 ness above the distinct line of the rouge high on the 
 forehead, anaemic grey hairs which one might count 
 struggling across the pallid skull. A cry again 
 broke from her, a little cry of muffled despair, such 
 a cry as a woman might utter who was wronged, 
 and in another moment the door opened and Dr. 
 O' Sullivan stood there. 
 
 The old woman shrank back, cowering and un- 
 nerved. 
 
 " I'm sorry," said Dr. O'Sullivan. " I came to 
 tell you " 
 
 " Marie is dead ! " The words broke from the 
 shrinking creature. 
 
 The doctor bowed his head at the door. 
 
 " It's all over," he said. " Mrs. Massy is at 
 peace." 
 
 Mechanically I tore up the cablegram and the 
 little shreds of paper fluttered to the ground. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 THE dream which Kish Massy had dreamed 
 by the dining-room fire of Deerpark on a 
 bright April day came to pass on a sullen, 
 sunless morning in November. He was not there 
 as chief mourner — there was no chief mourner — 
 but a vivid funeral procession wound its way through 
 the brown hills to the churchyard at Gorrybeg. 
 There, for. the last time, the Heffernan vault yawned, 
 taking in the last of the clan, the mother and the 
 babe. For the child had only survived the mother 
 by an hour. 
 
 I was one of the small band of people who after- 
 wards straggled back to Deerpark to hear the will 
 read. We sat silent and gloomy in the silent and 
 gloomy house while Mr. O'Moore's sweet voice read 
 the will, dated the previous May, and by which Kish 
 Massy was made the possessor of all that belonged 
 to his wife — all except three minor bequests : £300 
 to her dear friend, Lady Agatha Newell, £200 to 
 Dr. Noel Mitchel, the bishop, for religious and 
 charitable purposes, and £100 to her faithful servant, 
 Margaret Briscoe. 
 
 When the brief ceremony was ended I handed 
 over to Mr. O'Moore, as the representative of Kish 
 Massy, my keys and a statement of my accounts and 
 
 286 
 
AFTER THE MARRIACxE 287 
 
 walked out of the house for what I believed to be 
 the last time. 
 
 Outside the hall door I shook hands with Colonel 
 Burke and Captain Manning. 
 
 " I was saying to the Colonel that it is a strange 
 turn in the fortunes of Deerpark," said Captain 
 Manning as he got up on his car. " She intended 
 changing that will — she told me so. It was one of 
 the first things to be done as soon as she got back 
 from Ballinacoorty ! And now " 
 
 The Captain flecked the horse with his whip and 
 drove off. 
 
 " Pooh soul, she got a shawp knock," said Colonel 
 Burke. •' I expect Agwatha will winter in Fwance." 
 
 Thereafter my interests shifted. I became en- 
 grossed in the business of flour and meal milling 
 and in the development of my own personal farm, 
 long neglected. 
 
 Old Hugh Carolan was failing and as he failed 
 he became more and more reconciled to the idea of 
 a son-in-law. 
 
 The June following Betty and myself were mar- 
 ried. One of the first gifts to reach us was a basket 
 of live lobsters from Ballinacoorty with the com- 
 pliments of Mr. and Mrs. John Mulcahy ! 
 
 Deerpark was receding from my life. It lived 
 only in the flickering stories which came to us of 
 Kish Massy. He was still in New York. Indefinite 
 but insistent reports were bruited that he had got 
 married again. His new wife was, they said, a 
 Miss Dorothy Vernon, the daughter of a New York 
 lawyer. But it was fully a year after the death of 
 
288 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 his first wife before the servants in Deerpark were 
 officially and definitely informed that Mr. Kish 
 Massy and Mrs. Vernon Massy were coming to take 
 up residence in Ireland. 
 
 ii 
 
 Betty and myself had just taken our places in 
 the pew we occupied every Sunday. People were 
 filling into the seats before and behind us. Sud- 
 denly the air became charged with a most insidious 
 perfume. I sniffed it suspiciously. What had it re- 
 minded me of ? Where had I gotten it before ? I was 
 so interested that Betty looked up at me quizzically. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " she whispered. ' You 
 look like a man who scents his dinner burning." 
 
 The next moment a little sensational wave had 
 passed over the congregation, one of those little 
 electrical currents which everybody affects to 
 ignore and everybody helps to generate. We had 
 the sensation, known only to compact and local 
 congregations, that strangers had come amongst 
 us. The sensation leapt from mind to mind like a 
 taper lighting up the candles on an altar. The 
 whiff of perfume excited me particularly. Pre- 
 sently our sensation was confirmed. For up the 
 church came a trio which drew all eyes. It was 
 Kish Massy, Mrs. Vernon Massy, and Mr. Smith 
 Vernon, her father, the New York lawyer. They 
 marched up to a front pew. Mrs. Vernon Massy's 
 dress swished close to me as they went by, almost 
 drowning my senses with the curious perfume. 
 
 Kish Massy had become young, that second 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 289 
 
 youngness which comes through certain compul- 
 sions and not by process of nature, like second 
 childhoods. His piquant youngness was expressed 
 in a definite reduction of the girth and in the cut of 
 the clothes to emphasize this reduction. He had 
 that red clearness of skin which proclaims a dis- 
 covery of the bath late in life. His characteristic 
 frog walk had been subjected to a discipline which 
 was not altogether a success but which, neverthe- 
 less, accomplished abbreviations in his comport- 
 ment. But his second youth was expressed above 
 all in a courageous dying of the hair. Not one of 
 the former wiry grey members remained. They 
 were now all a gleaming lamp-black. And the 
 spring-time movement of his person was emphasized 
 by the softness of his steps, for he wore galoshes. 
 He looked like a man who had all guilty knowledge 
 of stables sweated out through the pores of his 
 skin by a heroic scheme of Turkish baths. 
 
 Beside him walked his second wife. She was as 
 tall as himself. She walked with a loose stride. At 
 the same time her figure was erect, that erectness 
 which all American women possess, unconsciously, 
 no doubt, inspired by the statue of Liberty in New 
 York harbour. She looked a product of the gym- 
 nasium. Nay, she might even belong to a circus. 
 She was arrayed in a green costume, a large green 
 and white hat, which became her very well. She 
 looked about twenty-seven years of age. " She's 
 good-looking," I thought as I saw her face. Her 
 expression was open, the eyes direct, frank, her 
 bearing independent. She gave one the sense of 
 19 
 
290 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 enterprise, of a woman who would arrange her own 
 affairs, who belonged to a race whose civilization 
 was fresh. And she exhaled that disturbing perfume. 
 
 " I have it," I said to myself suddenly. " The 
 pale blue envelopes ! She's the real estate business 
 in which Kish Massy had made investments before 
 he had married Miss Heffernan ! " A great many 
 half-forgotten little incidents came back to my 
 mind, now more illuminating. I smiled a little grimly. 
 
 Papa Vernon walked discreetly a pace behind 
 Kish Massy and his lady. He was a keen, eager, 
 tall man, taking peculiar high steps with remark- 
 ably long narrow feet encased in patent leather shoes. 
 
 His jaw was also long, sharp, pushful, honed 
 and polished, adjusted and sharpened at the whet- 
 stone of life, a life, I should say, that revolved at a 
 pretty rate. I had an uneasy feeling at sight of 
 Papa Vernon. He looked too capable a man to 
 have come to our hillsides merely for the good of 
 his health. 
 
 " They're not Catholics," I thought as Papa 
 Vernon and his daughter took their seats in the pew 
 with Kish Massy. They had not genuflected to 
 the altar. They stared about them with frankly 
 curious eyes. Mrs. Vernon Massy took careful 
 stock of the congregation. The women in shawls 
 and cloaks especially attracted her notice. She 
 gave them up for a contemplation of the candles 
 on the altar. Papa Vernon plained his long keen 
 jaw up at the Stations of the Cross on the walls, his 
 eyes going from one picture to the other with a gaze 
 that held some mixture of cynical curiosity. He 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 291 
 
 stooped over and said something to his daughter 
 and she joined him in a survey of the sacred pictures. 
 They half turned their backs upon the altar. An- 
 other little electrical wave passed over the congre- 
 gation. Kish Massy sat between them, his gleam- 
 ing black head- steady and stubborn. 
 
 The priest came to the altar and commenced the 
 recital of the prayers before Mass. The members 
 of the congregation knelt down and blessed them- 
 selves. Mrs. Vernon Massy made no attempt to do 
 so. Papa Vernon was more enterprising. He 
 made the attempt. I noticed that the hand went 
 from the forehead to the left shoulder, then to the 
 right shoulder and finally to the breast. I remem- 
 bered that I had seen a very pious-looking actor in 
 the part of Friar Laurence in a performance of 
 Romeo and Juliet once bless himself exactly like 
 that. Papa Vernon was, then, a stage Catholic ! 
 And if he were a stage Catholic, how many other 
 stage things might he not be ? 
 
 After Mass the new party from Deerpark drove 
 away in the family carriage. Hot on their heels 
 came another equipage along the Ballyrea road. 
 It contained the Earl of Elmtree. 
 
 in 
 " I won't." 
 " You will." 
 " But I say I won't." 
 " But I say you will." 
 
 Betty and myself were having a little tiff ; it was 
 not the first. We were coming along the road on 
 
292 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 our bicycles. My lamp threw a yellow streak of 
 light on the road, for it was dark. The question 
 which had arisen was one as to whether, when we 
 arrived on our way homewards at the entrance gates 
 to Deerpark, we should there dismount and secretly 
 view all that might be viewed from the road of a 
 dance which was there in progress. Betty wanted 
 to dismount ; I wanted to go straight ahead home, 
 ignoring the revelry at Deerpark. 
 
 When we reached the Deerpark gates we dis- 
 mounted. 
 
 The house was a blaze of light. Most of the 
 windows were thrown open. The music of a string 
 band playing a Straus waltz came alluringly on the 
 night air. In the left wing the dancing was in 
 progress. The couples went flitting past the win- 
 dows in the waltz. We stood staring at them for 
 some time. Now and again a laugh sounded from 
 the house. This dance was the culminating event 
 of an unusually big house party at Deerpark. 
 
 For something over three years now the Vernon 
 Massys had been in residence there, entertaining 
 on a lavish scale. There had been gossip, of course. 
 There had been things said. There was, for in- 
 stance, that trip to the Continent the summer 
 before last. Then there was the season that Lord 
 Elmtree had his yacht off ,the Galway coast, the 
 flights up and down to it, the queer comings and 
 goings of the social vampires whom the place 
 attracted. Captain Manning had been horrified 
 at certain financial transactions carried out by Kish 
 Massy ; there had been a wholesale selling of shares 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 293 
 
 in order to make new investments in America. 
 Papa Vernon, who had returned to the States, 
 was understood to be the new financial expert to 
 Kish Massy. Captain Manning felt wounded to 
 the soul when even the brewery shares were sold 
 out in favour of an American phonograph syndicate. 
 
 " I always said it, and now it is confirmed," said 
 the Captain. " A fellow who gets on grand with 
 horses is never of account at anything else. Take 
 his hand off a halter and he's a fool." 
 
 The waltz music from Deerpark was sweet and 
 alluring. The old house never looked so gay. 
 Betty and myself gazed up at it in silence. 
 
 Suddenly a woman laughed quite near in the 
 shrubberies. It was an amused, short laugh. A 
 man's voice spoke in an undertone. Then there 
 was silence. The band went on playing the waltz. 
 The revolving figures flit across the lighted windows. 
 To the hall door came a figure, standing there in 
 bold relief against the bright light inside. The 
 figure was unmistakable. It was Kish Massy. 
 He stood on the steps, then moved about, looking 
 uneasy and undecided. He seemed like one who 
 had come out to seek something, nervous and 
 anxious, baffled and disturbed. He mopped his 
 face with his handkerchief and went in again. 
 
 Across from the shrubberies two figures moved, 
 silent and shadowy. They crossed to a sort of 
 kiosk, one of the new glories of Deerpark, which 
 had been erected in the lawn, its body painted 
 vermilion, its cupola a dazzling white. The tall 
 shadowy figures disappeared into the kiosk. 
 
294 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 Betty and myself mounted our bicycles and 
 pedalled along the road. 
 
 " Very nice band," I said laconically after a time. 
 
 " Very," Betty agreed. Then after a pause, 
 " She's nearly as tall as he is." 
 
 " Who is nearly as tall as he is ? " I asked. 
 
 " Mrs. Vernon Massy." 
 
 " And who is he ? " 
 
 "■ Lord Elmtree." 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 " I noticed it as they came out of the shrubbery 
 and crossed to the kiosk." 
 
 Next morning the visitors left Deerpark. There 
 was, it was said, a more premature stampede than 
 expected in consequence of some unpleasantness. 
 Mr. Kish Massy had had a quarrel with Lord Elm- 
 tree. There was a good deal of confusion in the 
 house. And when it quietened down it was dis- 
 covered that everybody had gone, including Mrs. 
 Vernon Massy. 
 
 A telegram came for Mr. Massy later in the day. 
 It was hinted that it came from his wife announcing 
 her flight with the Earl. The effect on Mr. Massy 
 followed strictly on precedent. He at once made 
 for the sideboard. He did not even pause to put in 
 soda water. 
 
 He kept to it at a pace which broke all previous 
 records. And people said he was egged on by the 
 knowledge that he was financially ruined. 
 
 " Talk about the Heffernans ! " scoffed Broderick 
 the butler. " None of them ever had that man's 
 capacity. He's a wonder ! " 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 I WAS aroused from my slumbers in the middle of 
 the night by a heavy thumping on the front door. 
 I donned some clothes, lighted a candle and de- 
 scended. When I opened the door I could discern 
 in the light of the candle Augustine Massy's pallid 
 face in its frame of black beard. I looked at him 
 and he looked at me. 
 
 " Good morning," I said as he appeared reluc- 
 tant to speak. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Jennings," he replied. " I 
 called to ask if you know anything about Kish." 
 
 I was never so conscious of Augustine Massy's 
 extraordinary impassivity, his sense of neutrality 
 towards life. When he asked me, at four o'clock 
 in the morning, if I knew anything about his brother 
 Kish I felt inclined to put the candle to his beard 
 in the hope of rousing him. 
 
 "I'm afraid I know little about Kish," I replied. 
 
 " Of his present whereabouts, Mr. Jennings ? 
 Do you know anything of his whereabouts ? His 
 present whereabouts are unknown." 
 
 " Of his whereabouts I know nothing," I replied. 
 
 295 
 
296 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 "It is possibly the only thing I don't know about 
 him." 
 
 " Well, he's missing." 
 
 " Missing ? " 
 
 " He's missing right enough, Mr. Jennings." 
 
 " How long ? " 
 
 " Some hours it must be now. He escaped about 
 one." 
 
 " Escaped ? " 
 
 " Yes, bedad. Out of the house, out of Deer- 
 park, out of his bed." 
 
 A draught nearly put the candle out. The hot 
 grease was running down all one side, burning my 
 fingers. And I was not equipped for a nocturnal 
 conversation at the hall door. I requested Augus- 
 tine Massy to step in, and he did so. 
 
 We sat down in the chill of a room lighted by the 
 guttering candle. Augustine Massy's black beard 
 looked like a splash of ink in the general gloom. 
 
 " I might say," he began, speaking in a sepulchral 
 tone," that my brother has been down for some 
 time with an attack of delirium tremens. Broderick 
 was up with him last night, and I took my turn to- 
 night. A few nights ago it took four men and the 
 pantry boy to hold him down." 
 
 " And you say he has escaped ? " 
 
 " I do. And so he has. I thought he was grand 
 and quiet so I sat by the fire, and what with the 
 dint of the heat the sleep overcome myself. 
 When the fire went out I wakened up, shivering 
 with cold ; and just, Mr. Jennings, as I stooped for 
 the coal-scuttle I noticed the door opened and a 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 297 
 
 fearful draught from it. Then I glanced at the 
 bed. All the clothes were streeling down on the 
 floor. I walked over and I saw, right enough, that 
 the bird had flown." 
 
 Augustine Massy's white languid hand stroked 
 the black beard as if he had done very well and 
 did not purpose doing anything more. 
 
 " Did you search the house for him ? " I asked. 
 
 " I roused the servants," he replied. " We got 
 lights and we searched the house, and neither colour 
 nor clue of Kish could we find. We said we'd rouse 
 the neighbours and do the best we could to get on 
 his tracks." 
 
 " What's the matter ? " a voice suddenly called 
 from the head of the stairs. It was Betty, also 
 roused from her sleep. 
 
 "It's all right," I said. But the next moment 
 the baby woke up and the house was no longer 
 silent. 
 
 " There's nothing wrong with that fellow's lungs, 
 anyway," said Augustine Massy. 
 
 " No," I said, " that fellow's lungs are all right." 
 
 I explained to Betty what had happened, com- 
 pleted my attire, and decided to join in the search 
 for Kish Massy. 
 
 11 
 
 Augustine Massy and myself issued from the 
 house into the bright moonlight of an October 
 morning. 
 
 r< The question is," I said,^ " where are we to head 
 for ? " 
 
298 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 " That's the thing," agreed Augustine Massy. 
 His tone was thoroughly disinterested. He gave 
 me the feeling that we were merely walking down the 
 road for a casual stroll and this feeling irritated me. 
 
 A voice sang out somewhere in the fields. It was 
 a feeble voice, but we wheeled about at once. For 
 some moments we saw nothing. I leapt up on the 
 ditch. The country was extraordinarily peaceful in 
 the flood of soft light. The voice came to us again, 
 more decisive. Then in the distance, in a clump 
 of stunted thorns, I saw a figure flit from bush to 
 bush. It was certainly the figure of a man, but a 
 man in an attire which was indefinite. 
 
 " It's himself ! " exclaimed Augustine Massy, but 
 there was no trace of excitement in the exclamation. 
 " It's very like the talk of him since he took bad. 
 He's always shouting about climbing up an elm tree 
 if it was to cost him his life." 
 
 The distant figure disappeared. 
 
 " Come along," I cried, and jumping from the 
 ditch into the field set out in a run in the direction 
 of the bushes. It was as certain as anything in 
 life that Augustine Massy if left to himself would 
 walk up very leisurely, or else sit on the ditch for 
 hours droning out his casual observations. As it 
 was he had to follow me as well as he could. We 
 beat about the clump of bushes. A hare sat up on 
 his haunches, his ears alert, and in another moment 
 cut down the hill. But no other sign of life was 
 visible. 
 
 " He's gone," said Augustine Massy. Resigna- 
 tion was no name for his tone. 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 299 
 
 The quarries were some hundreds of yards above 
 us. At my suggestion we bent our steps there. An 
 instinct to avoid all initiative was powerful in Augus- 
 tine Massy's psychology. 
 
 The yawning openings of the earth at the quar- 
 ries were appallingly suggestive when connected 
 with the mission which had brought us there. 
 What a place for a delirious patient ! We looked 
 helplessly about us, peered down into the depths, 
 but all was at peace. 
 
 " I wonder did he fall into the quarries/' said 
 Augustine Massy. He might as well have said, " I 
 wonder did he put on his hat." 
 
 I offered no opinion, and we made a round of the 
 pit-heads. The moon threw its pale beams on the 
 seams in the earth. We struggled up and down over 
 the mounds of splinters. Here and there boulders of 
 rock jutted out in the depths below, throwing long 
 black patches of shadow across the bottom of the 
 quarries. There was a silence which impressed, 
 emphasized as it was by the trickle of water down 
 the declivities. Once or twice we ventured down 
 the rude passages hewn into the quarries, the coarse 
 gravel slipping in little landslides under our feet. 
 While we groped along one of these passages Augus- 
 tine Massy had what I firmly believe to be the~ only 
 inspiration of his blameless life. I saw his lean 
 sombre form reach out over a shoulder of rock, his 
 black beard and pallid face hanging over the abyss 
 like a death's head, and his hollow booming voice 
 called out with little command and no hope : 
 "Kish! Kish! Kish ! " 
 
3oo THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 The name rumbled in the quarry beneath us ; 
 it passed like a complaining spirit from one cavity 
 to the other and, booming more faintly hollowly 
 as it travelled, died away somewhere in an exhausted 
 " Kish ! " 
 
 We awaited the result of this experiment, stand- 
 ing tense in the chilly passage. But the earth gave 
 back no account of Kish Massy. The drip of the 
 eternal water on the ledges of rock was like the 
 ticking of a great many clocks. A sense of desola- 
 tion and despair came to me. A rat squealed, 
 hopped on to the passage before us, another fol- 
 lowed, they fought like a pair of dogs in the moon- 
 light, an owl circled overhead, the rats tumbled 
 under a bolder, the owl sailed away and all was 
 again still, except for the watery ticking of all the 
 quarry clocks. Without a word we turned on our 
 heels and scrambled up for the opening. 
 
 " He mustn't be here after all," said Augustine 
 Massy, looking about him in a hopeless way. " May- 
 be he's gone home again by this. Or maybe the 
 others got him." His own eyes wandered in 
 the direction of Deerpark. He was tired of the 
 search. 
 
 We stood together, undecided and baffled. A 
 faint sound came to us, unexpected and extra- 
 ordinarily familiar. I heard it before my com- 
 panion. 
 
 " Listen," I cried. 
 
 Imperfectly and brokenly, a very wraith of sound, 
 it came to us, Kish Massy's voice in his little out-of- 
 tune song ! 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 301 
 
 " It's himself surely/' said Augustine Massy. 
 " He's always at it : The Bells of Shandon." 
 
 We followed as well as we could the thin elusive 
 trail of sound. It brought us back in the direction 
 of the mouth of the quarries. There we stood, very 
 much puzzled. We had a clear view of the sloping 
 side of the quarry beneath us, the moon shining 
 directly upon It. There was no trace of a human 
 figure on these slopes, nor along the edge of the pit- 
 heads in front of us. And yet the voice was nearer, 
 more distinct. It was uncanny. 
 
 " Well, that's not a bad one ! Will you look 
 where he is ? " 
 
 I turned to Augustine Massy as he droned out 
 the words. His white hand was pointing up at 
 the moon as far as I could follow it. For a wild 
 moment I wondered if this second Massy had also 
 lost his health. Then my eye came nearer to earth. 
 
 I saw the sight. 
 
 My eye ranged along the sloping shaft of a crane 
 which reached out from the bank over the quarry. 
 Silhouetted against the moonlit sky was the figure 
 of Kish Massy in his night-shirt seated right at the 
 end of the jib of the crane ! The spectacle almost 
 made me reel. And although the air of the famous 
 song was difficult to recognize, I could hear the 
 words, tremulously distinct — 
 
 "With symbals glorious, 
 Swinging uproarious 
 In the gorgeous turrets 
 Of Notre-Dame ! " 
 
 I was incapable of intelligent action, or indeed 
 
302 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 thought, as I beheld that figure seated precariously 
 oyer a clear and final drop into the bowels of the 
 earth. 
 
 " I wonder how did he get up ? " Augustine Massy 
 speculated calmly. 
 
 The bloodlessness of the fellow roused me. 
 " Hadn't you better wonder how you'd get him 
 down ? " I snapped. 
 
 But Augustine Massy paid no attention to my 
 manner. " He was a terrible active customer al- 
 ways," he said, " and no beating him at climbing. 
 I always said he'd do something remarkable in the 
 way of climbing." There was a grand patronage 
 in the words, a sustained detachment. 
 
 I approached the crane cautiously. Augustine 
 Massy strolled after me. And as we did so the 
 horror of the position became more patent. There 
 was a clear drop into an ugly patchwork of jagged 
 rock. 
 
 " There is only one thing for it," I said. " We 
 must swing round the crane so that the jib may 
 reach over the bank and not over the quarry." 
 
 " That would not be a bad idea," Augustine 
 Massy agreed. " I suppose he would not slidder 
 down the shaft for us himself. I say, Kish, come 
 down out of that, man alive ! It's no place at all 
 for you. You'll get your death of cold." 
 
 The figure made some movement on its aerial 
 perch at the words — some endeavour to turn round 
 at his brother's behest. The movement was fatal. 
 His body lolled a little to one side, then slipped. 
 
 The weird moonlit scene swam before my eyes as 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 303 
 
 the horror of the thing broke upon me. Kish Massy 
 had, indeed, been my enemy. Between us there 
 had been hatred. But whatever was human in the 
 man's ugly bizarre life warmed in my mind as I saw 
 his helpless body slip for a sheer plunge into the pit 
 and into eternity. My eyelids instinctively sealed 
 my eyes. I waited, tensely and grimly, to hear 
 above the tinkling of the water the hollow distant 
 thud which would tell its own tale of nameless hor- 
 ror. No thud sounded. Instead Augustine Massy's 
 impassive monotone struck my ears again. 
 
 ' That's not a bad one neither," he said. " His 
 night-shirt got caught on the hook and I thinking he 
 was slipping." 
 
 I opened my eyes and looked up at the crane, 
 that shaft of death poised in the grey neutral light 
 of the heavens. I could have shouted in a hysteria 
 of laughter, danced a fantastic dance about the pit 
 head. For suspended between the pale heaven 
 and the black earth was the fat naked body of Kish 
 Massy, swinging from the great hook of the chain 
 of the crane. The shirt was twisted about the 
 shoulders and neck in a crude bulk ; through this 
 crude bulk the hook had struck, an act of Fate 
 which saved the slipping body from the maw of 
 the chasm beneath. 
 
 When I looked first I thought the spectacle a 
 monstrous parody on a hooked fish. In a slow 
 methodical movement the body revolved half-way 
 round and back again. I could see the gleam of 
 the moonlight on one great haunch now, another 
 again. 
 
304 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 The illusoin of the hooked fish passed. He was 
 more like some outlandish carcase getting basted 
 upon a spit before a fire, a sight to ravish the minds 
 of all cannibals. If Kish Massy had seen anything 
 more appalling in the hours of his delirium than this 
 horror over the green marble quarries, with the half- 
 hidden things in the rocky delved earth beneath 
 him, I do not wonder that he ran stark mad out of 
 his bed. The only memory of his former existence 
 which seemed in the least familiar was the occasional 
 short jab of the left arm, a gesture which added to 
 his farcically tragic plight. 
 " My God ! " I breathed. 
 
 I turned to his brother. The fellow had struck 
 an easy attitude, one leg crossed over the other, his 
 right elbow in the palm of his left hand, his long 
 languid white fingers caressing his black beard, a 
 contemplative expression on his face, his unemo- 
 tional eyes raised to the spectre which the moon 
 and the stars of heaven also gazed upon. 
 
 " I tell you what," he said at last, " it was a good 
 job for Kish he could never bear pyjamas." 
 
 A faint rent of clothing up where the body re- 
 volved brought my mind back to the possibility of 
 a fresh calamity. 
 
 " The shirt is giving," said Augustine Massy. " I 
 heard it giving, tearing upon the hook." If the 
 shirt was giving, tearing upon the hook, the plunge 
 into the quarries was still clear and imminent for 
 Kish Massy. I sprang to the crane, and began 
 to press about the arm on its revolving disk, so that 
 the body, if it did drop, would fall on the bank and 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 305 
 
 not into the abyss. Augustine Massy came to my 
 aid rather leisurely. I saw the body swaying in 
 the air as the crane swung round, for the chain with 
 its hook was only a few feet from the top of the jib. 
 There was another rent of the garment and the 
 heavy body dropped a few inches as it gave. But 
 in a few moments the greatest horror of the posi- 
 tion had passed. The arm of the crane no longer 
 loomed over the mouth of the quarry. 
 
 " Now, quick, get him down," I called out, and 
 grasping the handles of the wheel we started to 
 lower with all speed, the feeling coming to me that 
 I was supplying most of the motive power. The 
 crane had not been oiled, or indeed used at all, for 
 some time past. The rusty chain creaked painfully 
 as it unwound itself from the drum, and the teeth of 
 the drum itself grated in the gearing. But the figure 
 slowly descended, swaying a little to and fro, and 
 in one of the rapid glances I had of it I noticed that 
 the jabbing of the left arm had ceased. At last the 
 feet touched the earth and we ran to afford all the 
 succour we could to the miserable figure. I almost 
 sprang back again as my hand touched the body. 
 No slab of marble which had ever come out of the 
 quarries was so cold as that body. The face, sud- 
 denly near to me, I beheld with horror. The pro- 
 truding, glassy, immense eyes stared up at the moon 
 in a glacial stare. The skin was blue-black. There 
 were wounds and bruises on the body. A scar 
 marked the line of the back where the hook had 
 caught him as he fell. The wisps of hair hung dank 
 and piebald from the head. The sweats of the fever 
 20 
 
3 o6 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 through which he had passed had caused the dye 
 to partly ooze from the hair. Lines of dissipation 
 had eaten into the flesh under the eyes and about 
 the mouth. With all the haste that I could, I cut 
 with my penknife the entanglements of the night- 
 shirt about the throat, where it was gathered as 
 strong and as tight as a rope. When this had been 
 done the shreds of the shirt hung about the body 
 in a hundred fragments. I had the thought that 
 the warrior-bard Oisin must have looked something 
 like this when he had fought with a scourge all the 
 devils in hell. 
 
 We laid him down on his back on the ground as 
 gently as we could. 
 
 With that we heard the shuffle and voices of a 
 body of searchers. We hailed them. They came 
 plodding slowly to us, an old man coughing inces- 
 santly. Some carried lanterns. Some wore over- 
 coats with great capes. But all were old men, and 
 I had the feeling that old men always turn up for 
 a thing of this sort, some instinct for the morbid 
 inspiring them. They made a dramatic grouping 
 about the prostrate body, ominous, silent, playing 
 their lanterns over the prostrate figure, which 
 looked more gruesome than ever in the yellow 
 streaks of the light. They craned their old necks 
 over him, the profile of one little old man with a 
 hooked beak looking like a bird of prey. 
 
 " Praise the Lord ! " said one, moving his lantern 
 about the figure. 
 
 " The Cross of Christ upon us ! " said another, 
 hitching his coat on his stooped shoulders. 
 
AFTER THE MARRIAGE 307 
 
 " He's a fearful and a dreadful sight," mumbled 
 a third. 
 
 And all the time the man with the hacking cough 
 peered blindly down at the figure and in the end put 
 out a sinister old claw to feel him. 
 
 " His blood is frozen," he said, made the sign of 
 the Cross, and then was shaken with the cough again. 
 
 We unearthed a hand-barrow from a tool-shed — 
 not unlike a stretcher — and used for carrying slabs 
 of stone. We took the overcoats from some of the 
 old men and wrapped them about the body on the 
 stretcher. Then we set out for Deerpark. The 
 lantern bearers preceded the stretcher, behind 
 came the relief hands. The body was heavy, the 
 ground was uneven and difficult ; we stumbled and 
 staggered slowly down the fields, the old man with 
 the cough barking and wheezing constantly, the 
 little fellow with the beaked nose so bent that his 
 face hung horizontally over the earth. 
 
 " Praise the Lord ! " he mumbled every now and 
 then as we stumbled along. 
 
 At last we turned up the drive to Deerpark, 
 brushing the laurels of the shrubberies. In the trees 
 overhead a- squirrel made some magnificent springs 
 along the branches, clearly visible against the pale 
 sky. Somewhere at the back of the house an owl 
 was hooting. The shuffle of our feet was more 
 sharp on the sand, but nobody spoke, not even the 
 old man bent double, but the coughing was con- 
 tinuous. We staggered up the steps, straining and 
 puffing, then somebody thudded heavily on the 
 knocker. 
 
308 THE LADY OF DEERPARK 
 
 The door was opened by the quaking hand of 
 Broderick, and we passed in, a solid black shuffling 
 body grouped about the stretcher. We crossed the 
 hall and mounted the broad stairs and thence to the 
 bedroom, where we lifted the unconscious form on 
 to the bed. The old man with the cough had seated 
 himself on the first step of the stairway, unable to 
 mount, and his coughs made echoes over the place. 
 Augustine Massy had also detached himself from 
 the group, going away in the direction of the kitchen 
 to warm himself at the fire. 
 
 About the bed in the room the old men panted, 
 their half-sceptical, half -grim faces sinister in the 
 yellow light. A conversation, feeble as age itself, 
 took place as to what was best to be done. Brandy 
 was to be poured in between his teeth, hot blankets 
 wrapped about his body, the doctor was to be sent 
 for. While they talked and hobbled about the bed 
 of the stricken man I knew quite well that the soul 
 of Kish Massy had quitted its earthly habitation. 
 Already he belonged to the dissolving elements of 
 the earth. 
 
 I walked down through the gloom of that grim 
 house, my arms aching, and as I descended the steps 
 from the hall door my eyes caught a patch of the 
 eastern sky, where a shaft of tremulous warm light 
 was already proclaiming the coming of another day. 
 
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