"to 
 
 LI B R.AFLY 
 
 OF THL 
 
 UNIVER.5ITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
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 ^
 
 DAIREEN 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 Our wills and fat^s do so contrary run 
 That our devices still are overthrotm: 
 Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our otrn ' 
 
 Hamlet
 
 J. 7.b^ 
 
 DAIREEN 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANK FRAXKFORT MOORE 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 FLYING JtROM A SHADOW' 'MATE OF THE JESSICA' ' SOJOURXERS TOGETHEH ' ETC. 
 
 IX TWO VOLUMES 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE 
 
 1879 
 
 \_All rights reserved}
 
 -i 
 
 i 
 
 
 D A I E E E N 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 A king 
 Upon whose property . . . 
 A damn'd defeat was made. 
 
 A king 
 Of shreds and patches. 
 
 The very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in this 
 . "box ; and must the inheritor himself have no more ? — Hamlet. 
 
 ' My sonn,' said The MacDermot with an air of 
 ^grandeur, ' my sonn, ye've forgotten what's jew 
 ^ to yersilf, what's jew to yer fawther, what's jew 
 
 — ^ to yer forefawthers that bled,' and The Mac- 
 ^Dermot waved his hand gracefully, then, taking 
 
 Jo advantage of its proximity to the edge of the 
 
 rz table, he made a powerful but ineffectual 
 _^ttempt to pull himself to his feet. Finding 
 
 ^ himself baffled by the peculiar formation of 
 d his chair, and not having a reserve of breath 
 
 ^^-^ VOL. I. B
 
 2 DAIREEN. 
 
 to draw upon for another exertion, he concealed 
 his defeat under a pretence of feehng indifferent 
 on the matter of rising, and continued fingering 
 the table-edge as if endeavouring to read the 
 initials which had been carved pretty deeply 
 upon the oak just where his hand rested by a 
 humorous guest. ' Yes, my sonn, ye've for- 
 gotten the blood of yer anshint soires. Ye for- 
 git, my sonn, that ye 're th' offspring of the 
 MacDermots and the O'Dermots, kings of 
 Munster in the days whin there was kings, 
 and whin the Geralds was walkin' about in 
 blue paint in the woods of the adjacent bar- 
 barious island of Britain. Think of that, my 
 sonn.' 
 
 ' The Geralds have been at Suanmara for 
 four hundred years,' said Standish quickly and 
 in the tone of one resenting an aspersion. 
 
 ' Four hunderd years ! ' cried The Mac- 
 Dermot scornfully. 'Four hunderd years! What's 
 four hunderd years in the existence of a fam'ly ? ' 
 The MacDermot felt that this was the exact in- 
 stant for him to rise grandly to his feet, so once 
 more he made the essay, but without a satis- 
 ftictory result. As a matter of fact it is almost
 
 DAIREEX. 3 
 
 impossible to release oneself from the embrace 
 of a heavy oak chair when the seat has been 
 formed of light cane, and this cane has become 
 tattered. 
 
 ' I don't care about the kings of Munster — 
 no, not a bit,' said Standish, taking a mean 
 advantage of the involuntary captivity of his 
 father to insult him. ' I'm dead sick hearing 
 about them. They never did anything for 
 me.' 
 
 The MacDermot threw back his head, 
 clasped his hands over liis bosom, and gazed up 
 to the cobwebs of the oak ceiHng. ' My soires 
 — shades of the MacDermots and the O'Der- 
 mots, visit not the iniquity of the childhren upon 
 the fawthers,' he exclaimed. And then there 
 came a solemn pause which the hereditary 
 monarch felt should impress his son deeply ; but 
 the son was not deceived into fancying that his 
 father was overcome with emotion ; he knew 
 very well that his father was only thinking how 
 with dignity he could extricate himself from his 
 awkward chair, and so he was not deeply 
 affected. ' My boy, my boy/ the father mur- 
 mured in a weak voice, after his apostrophe to
 
 4 DAIREEN. 
 
 the shades of the ceihng, ' what do ye mane 
 to do ? Kape nothin' sacret from me, Standish ; 
 I'll stand by ye to the last.' 
 
 ' I don't mean to do anything. There is 
 nothing to be done — at least — yet.' 
 
 ' What's that ye say ? Nothin' to be done ? 
 Ye don't mane to say ye Ve been thriflin' with 
 the young woman's afficshon? Mvir shall a 
 sonn of moine, and th' offspring of the Mac- 
 Dermots and the ' 
 
 ' How can you put such a question to me ? ' 
 said the young man indignantly. ' I throw 
 back the insinuation in your teeth, though you 
 are my father. I would scorn to trifle with the 
 feehngs of any lady, not to speak of Miss 
 Gerald, who is purer than the lily that 
 blooms ' 
 
 ' In the valley of Shanganagh — that's what 
 you said in the pome, my boy ; and it's thrue, 
 I'm sure.' 
 
 ' But because you find a scrap of poetry in 
 my writing you fancy that I forget my — my 
 duty — my ' 
 
 ' Moighty soires, Standish ; say the w^ord at 
 once, man. Well, may be I was too hasty, my
 
 DAIKEEN. 5 
 
 boy ; and if ye tell me tLat ye don't love her 
 now, I'll forgive all.' 
 
 'Xever,' cried the young man with the 
 vehemence of a mediaeval burning martyr. ' I 
 swear that I love her, and that it would be 
 impossible for me ever to think of anyone 
 else.' 
 
 ' This is cru'l — cru'l ! ' murmured The ^lac- 
 Dermot, still thinking how he could extricate 
 himself from his uneasy seat. * It is cru'l for a 
 fawther, but it must be borne — it must be 
 borne. If our anshint house is to deginirate to 
 a Saxon's livel, I'm not to blame. Standish, 
 my boy, I forgive ye. Take yer fiiwther's 
 hand.' 
 
 He stretched out his hand, and the young 
 man took it. The grasp of The MacDermot 
 was fervent — it did not relax until he had 
 accomphshed the end he had in view, and he 
 had pulled himself to his feet. Standish was 
 about to leave the room, when his father, turn- 
 ing his eyes away from the tattered canework 
 of the chair, that now closely resembled the 
 star-trap in a pantomime, cried, 
 
 ' Don't go yet, sir. This isn't to end hare.
 
 DAIREEN. 
 
 Didn't ye tell me that yer afficshon was set 
 upon this daughter of the Geralds ? ' 
 
 ' What is the use of continuing such 
 questions ? ' cried the young man impatiently. 
 The, reiteration by his father of this theme 
 — the most sacred to Standish's ears, was ex- 
 asperating. 
 
 ' JSTo sonn of moine will be let sneak out of 
 an afiair loike this,' said the hereditary mon- 
 arch. ' We may be poor, sir, poor as a bog- 
 trotter's dog ' 
 
 ' And we are,' interposed Standish bitterly. 
 
 ' But we have still the mim'ries of the grand 
 old toimes to live upon, and the name of Mac- 
 Dermot was never joined with anything but 
 honour. Ye love that daughter of the Geralds 
 — ye've confist it ; and though the fam'ly she 
 belongs to is one of these mushroom growths 
 that's springin' up around us in three or four 
 hunderd years — ay, in spoite of the upstart 
 fam'ly she belongs to, I'll give my consint to 
 yer happiness. We mustn't be proud in these 
 days, my sonn, though the blood of kings — eh, 
 where do ye mane to be a-goin' before I've 
 done ? '
 
 DAIEEEX. i 
 
 'I thought you had finished.' 
 
 ' Did ye ? well, y'are mistaken. Ye don't 
 sthir from hare imtil ye've promised me to 
 make all the aminds m yer power to this 
 daughter of the Geralds.' 
 
 ' Amends ? I don't understand you.' 
 
 ' Don't ye tell me ye love her ? ' 
 
 The refrain which was so delightful to the 
 young man's ears when he uttered it alone by 
 night under the pure stars, sounded terrible 
 when reiterated by his father. But what 
 could he do — his father was now upon his feet,? 
 
 ' What is the use of profaning her name in 
 this fashion ? ' cried Standish. • If I said I loved 
 her, it was only when you accused me of it and 
 threatened to turn me out of the house.' 
 
 ' And out of the house ye'll go if ye don't 
 give me a straightforward answer.' 
 
 ' I don't care,' cried Standish doggedly. 
 ' What is there here that should make me 
 afraid of your threat? I want to be turned 
 out. I'm sick of this place.' 
 
 ' Hivins ! what has come over the boy that 
 he has taken to spakin' loike this? Are ye 
 diminted, my sonn ? '
 
 8 DAIREEN/ 
 
 'No sucli thing,' said Standish. 'Only I 
 have been thinking for the past few days over 
 my position here, and . I have come to the con- 
 clusion that I couldn't be worse off.' 
 
 ' Ye've been thinkin', have ye ? ' asked The 
 MacDermot contemptuously. 'Ye depart so 
 far from the thradishins of yer fam'ly ? Well, 
 well,' he continued in an altered tone after a 
 pause, ' may be I've been a bad favvther to ye, 
 Standish, may be I've neglected my jewty ; 
 
 may be ' here The MacDermot felt for his 
 
 pocket-handkerchief, and having found it, he 
 waved it spasmodically and was about to 
 throw himself into his chair when he recollected 
 its defects and refrained, even though he was 
 well aware that he was thereby sacrificing much 
 of the dramatic effect up to which he had been 
 working. 
 
 ' No, father ; I don't want to say that you 
 have been anything but good to me, only ' 
 
 ' But I say it, my sonn,' said The Mac- 
 Dermot, mopping his brows earnestly with his 
 handkerchief. ' I've been a selfish old man, 
 haven't I now ? ' 
 
 ' No, no, anything but that. You have
 
 DAIREEX. 9 
 
 only been too good. You have given me all I 
 ever wanted — except ' 
 
 'Excipt what? Ah, I know what ye 
 mane — excipt money. Ah, yer reproach is 
 bitther — bitther ; but I desarve it all, I do.' 
 
 ' Xo, father : I did not say that at all.' 
 
 ' But I'll show ye, my boy, that yer fawther 
 can be gin'rous once of a toime. Ye love her, 
 don't ye, Standish ? ' 
 
 His father had laid his hand upon his 
 shoulder now, and spoke the words in a senti- 
 mental whisper, so that they did not sound so 
 profane as before. 
 
 ' I worship the ground she treads on,' his 
 son answered, tremulous with eagerness, a 
 girlish blush suffusing his cheeks and invading 
 the curls upon his forehead, as he turned his 
 head away. 
 
 ' Thin I'll show ye that I can be gin'rous. 
 Ye shall have her, Standish MacDermot ; I'll 
 give her to ye, though she is one of the new 
 fam'lies. Put on yer hat, my boy, and come 
 out with me.' 
 
 ' Are you going out ? ' said Standish. 
 
 ' 1 am, so orther round the car if the spring
 
 10 'DAIREEN. 
 
 is mindid. It should be, for I gave Eugene 
 the cord for it yisterday.' 
 
 Standish made a slight pause at the door as 
 if about to put another question to his father ; 
 after a moment of thoughtfulness, however, he 
 passed out in silence. 
 
 When the door had closed — or, at least, 
 moved upon its hinges, for the shifting some 
 years previously of a portion of the framework 
 made its closing an impossibility — The Mac- 
 Dermot put his hands deep into his pockets 
 jingling the copper coins and the iron keys 
 that either receptacle contained. It is wonder- 
 ful what suggestions of wealth may be given 
 by the judicious handling of a few coppers 
 and a bunch of keys, and the imagination of The 
 MacDermot being particularly sanguine, he felt 
 that the most scrupulous moneylender would 
 have offered him at this moment, on the 
 security of his personal appearance and the 
 sounds of his jingling metal, any sum of money 
 he might have named. He rather wished 
 that such a moneylender would drop in about 
 this time. But soon his thoughts changed. 
 The jingling in his pockets became modified,
 
 DAIREEX. 11 
 
 resembling in tone an unsound peal of muffled 
 bells ; he shook his head several times. 
 
 'MacDermot, my lad, ye were too wake,' 
 he muttered to himself. ' Ye yaledid too soon ; 
 ye should have stood out for a while ; but how 
 could I stand out whin I was sittin' in that 
 thrap ? ' 
 
 He turned round glaring at the chair which 
 he blamed as the cause of his^ premature 
 relaxation. He seemed measuring its probable 
 capacities of resistance ; and then he raised his 
 right foot and scrutinised the boot that covered 
 it. It was not a trustworthy boot, he knew. 
 Once more he glanced towards the chair, then 
 with a sigh he put his foot down and walked 
 to the window. 
 
 Past the window at this instant the car was 
 moving, drawn by a humble-minded horse 
 which in its turn was drawn by a boy in a 
 faded and dilapidated livery that had evi- 
 dently been originally made for a remark- 
 ably tall man. The length of the garment, 
 though undeniably embarrassing in the region 
 of the sleeves, had still its advantages, not the
 
 12 DAIREEN. 
 
 least of which was the conceahnent of a large 
 portion of the bare legs of the wearer ; it was 
 obvious too that when he should mount his 
 seat the boy's bare feet would be effectually 
 hidden, and from a livery-wearing standpoint 
 this would certainly be worth consideration. 
 
 The MacDermot gave a critical glance 
 through the single transparent pane of the 
 window — the pane had been honoured above 
 its fellows by a polishing about six weeks before 
 — and saw that the defective spring of the 
 vehicle had been repaired. Coarse twine had 
 been employed for this purpose ; but as this 
 material, though undoubtedly excellent in its 
 way, and of very general utility, is hardly the 
 most suitable for restoring a steel spring to its 
 original condition of elasticity, there was a 
 good deal of jerkiness apparent in the motion 
 of the car, especially when the wheels turned 
 into the numerous ruts of the drive. The boy 
 at the horse's head was, however, skilful in 
 avoiding the deeper depths, and the animal 
 was also most considerate in its gait, checking 
 within itself any unseemly outburst of spirit and
 
 DAIREEN. 13 
 
 restraining every propensity to break into a 
 trot. 
 
 'Now, father, I'm ready,' said Standish, 
 entering with his hat on. 
 
 ' Has Eugene brushed my hat ? ' asked The 
 MacDermot. ' My black hat, I mane ? ' 
 
 ' I didn't know you were going to wear it 
 to-day, when you were only taking a drive,' 
 said Standish with some astonishment. 
 
 ' Yis, my boy, I'll wear the black hat, 
 plase God, so git it brushed ; and tell him that 
 if he uses the blacking-brush this toime I'll 
 have his loife.' Standish went out to dehver 
 these messages ; but The MacDermot stood in 
 the centre of the big room pondering over 
 some weighty question. 
 
 'I will,' he muttered, as though a better 
 impulse of his nature were in the act of over- 
 coming an unworthy suggestion. ' Yis, I will ; 
 when I'm wearing the black hat things should 
 be liveled up to that stanthard ; yis, I will.' 
 
 Standish entered in a few minutes with his 
 father's hat — a tall, old-fashioned silk hat that 
 had at one time, pretty far remote, been black. 
 The MacDermot put it on carefully, after he
 
 14 DAIREEX. 
 
 had just touched the edges with his coat-cuff to 
 remove the least suspicion of dust ; then he 
 strode out followed by his son. 
 
 The car was standing at the hall door, and 
 Eugene the driver was beside it, giving a last 
 look to the cordage of the spring. When The 
 MacDermot, however, appeared, he sprang up 
 and touched his forehead with a smile of re- 
 markable breadth. The MacDermot stood im- 
 passive, and in dignified silence, looking first to 
 the horse, then to the car, and finally to the 
 boy Eugene, while Standish remained at the 
 other side. Eugene bore the gaze of the here- 
 ditary monarch pretty well on the whole, con- 
 scious of the abundance of his own coat. The 
 scrutiny of The MacDermot passed gradually 
 down the somewhat irregular row of buttons 
 until it rested on the protruding bare feet of 
 
 the bov. Then after another moment of im- 
 
 %/ 
 
 pressive silence. The MacDermot waved one 
 hand gracefully towards the door, saying : 
 ' Eugene, git on yer boots.'
 
 DAIREEX. 15 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 Let the world take note 
 You are the most immediate to oui* throne ; 
 And "v^-ith no less nobility of love 
 Than that which dearest father bears his son 
 Do I impart toward you. 
 
 How is it that the clouds still hang on you 
 
 Affection ! pooh ! you speak like a green girl. 
 
 Handet. 
 
 When the head of a community has, after due 
 dehberation, resolved upon the carrying out of 
 any bold social step, he may expect to meet with 
 the opposition that invariably obstructs the re- 
 former's advance ; so that one is tempted — nay, 
 modern statesmanship compels one — to believe 
 that secresy until a projected design is fully ma- 
 tured is a wise, or at least an effective, policy. 
 The military stratagem of a surprise is frequently 
 attended with orood results in dealing witli an 
 enemy, and as a friendly policy why should it not 
 succeed ?
 
 IG D AIRE EN. 
 
 This was, beyond a question, the course of 
 thought pursued by The MacDermot before 
 he uttered those words to Eugene. He had not 
 given the order without careful dehberation, but 
 when he had come to the conclusion that cir- 
 cumstances demanded the taking of so bold a 
 step, he had not hesitated in his utterance. 
 
 Eugene was indeed surprised, and so also 
 was Standish. The driver took off his hat and 
 passed his fingers through his hair looking 
 down to his bare feet, for he was in the habit 
 of getting a few weeks of warning before a 
 similar order to that just uttered by his master 
 was given to him. 
 
 ' D'ye hare, or are ye goin' to wait till the 
 horse has froze to the sod ? ' enquired The Mac- 
 Dermot ; and this brought the mind of the boy 
 out of the labyrinth of wonder into which it had 
 strayed. He threw down the whip and the 
 reins, and, tucking up the voluminous skirts 
 of his coat, ran round the house, commenting 
 briefly as he went along on the remarkable 
 aspect things were assuming. 
 
 Entering the kitchen from the rear, where an 
 old man and two old women were sitting with
 
 DAIREEX. 17 
 
 short pipes alight, he cried, ' What's the wurruld 
 comin' to at all ? I've got to put on me boots.' 
 
 'Holy Saint Bridget,' cried a pious old 
 woman, ' he's to put on his brogues ! An' is it 
 The Mac has bid ye, Eugene ? ' 
 
 ' Sorra a sowl ilse. So just shake a coal in 
 iviry fut to thaw thim a bit, alana.' 
 
 While the old woman was performing this 
 operation over the turf fire there was some 
 discussion as to what was the nature of the 
 circumstances that demanded such an unusual 
 proceeding on the part of The MacDermot. 
 
 'It's only The Mac himsilf that sames to 
 know — knock the ashes well about the hale, 
 ma'am — for Masther Standish w^as as much put 
 out as mesilf whin The Mac says — nivir moind 
 the toes, ma'am, me fut'll nivir go more nor half- 
 ways up the sowl — says he, " Git yer boots ; " as 
 if it was the ordinarist thing in the wurruld ; — 
 now I'll thry an' squaze me fut in.' And he 
 took the immense boot so soon as the fiery 
 ashes had been emptied from its cavity. 
 
 ' The Mac's proide '11 have a fall,' remarked 
 the old man in the corner sagaciously. 
 
 '.I shouldn't wondhcr,' said Eugene, pulling 
 
 VOL. I. c 
 
 ^M(
 
 IS DAIREEN. 
 
 on one of the boots. ' The spiing is patched 
 with hemp, but it's as loikely to give way as 
 not — holy Biddy, ye've left a hot coal just at 
 the instep that's made its way to me bone ! ' 
 But in spite of this catastrophe, the boy trudged 
 off to the car, his coat's tails flapping like the 
 foresail of a frigate brought up to the "wind. 
 Then he cautiously mounted his seat in front of 
 the car, letting a boot protrude effectively on 
 either side of the narrow board. The MacDermot 
 and his son, who had exchanged no word during 
 the short absence of Eugene in the kitchen, 
 then took their places, the horse w^as aroused 
 from its slumber, and they all passed down the 
 long dilapidated avenue and through the broad 
 entrance between the great mouldering pillars 
 overclung with ivy and strange tangled weeds, 
 where a gate had once been, but where now 
 only a rough pole was drawn across to prevent 
 the trespass of strange animals. 
 
 Truly pitiful it was to see such signs of 
 dilapidation everywhere around this demesne of 
 Innishdermot. The house itself was an immense 
 irregularly built rambling castle. Three quar- 
 ters of it Avas in utter ruin, but it had needed
 
 DAIREEX. 19 
 
 the combined efforts of eight hundred years of 
 time and a thousand of Cromwell's soldiers to 
 reduce the walls to the condition in which they 
 were at present. The five rooms of the building 
 that were habitable belonged to a comparatively 
 new wing which was supported on the eastern 
 side by the gable of a small chapel, and on the 
 western by the wall of a great round tower 
 which stood like a demohshed suo^ar-loaf hicrh 
 above all the ruins, and lodged a select number 
 of immense owls whose eyesight was so ex- 
 tremely sensitive, it required an unusual amount 
 of darkness for its preservation. 
 
 This was the habitation of The MacDermots, 
 hereditary kings of Munster, and here it was 
 that the existing representative of the royal 
 family lived with his only son Standish O'Dermot 
 MacDermot. In front of the pile stretched a 
 park, or rather what had once been a park, but 
 which was now wild and tangled as any wood. 
 It straggled down to the coastway of the lough, 
 which, with as many windings as a JN'orwegian 
 fjord, brought the green waves of the Atlantic 
 for twenty miles between coasts a thousand feet 
 in height— coasts which were black and precipi- 
 
 c 2
 
 20 DAIREEN. 
 
 tous and pierced with a hundred mighty caves 
 about the headlands of the entrance, but which 
 became wooded and more gentle of slope towards 
 the narrow termination of the basin. The en- 
 tire of one coastway, from the cliffs that broke 
 the wild buffet of the ocean rollers, to the little 
 island that lay at the narrowing of the waters, 
 was the property of The MacDermot. This was 
 all that had been left to the house which had 
 once held sway over two hundred miles of 
 coastway, from the kingdom of Kerry to Achill 
 Island, and a hundred miles of riverway. Pas- 
 turages the richest of the world, lake-lands the 
 most beautiful, mountains the grandest, woods 
 and moors — all had been ruled over by The 
 MacDermots, and of all, only a strip of coast- 
 way and a ruined castle remained to the repre- 
 sentative of the ancient house, who was now 
 passing on a jaunting-car between the dilapi- 
 dated pillars at the entrance to his desolate 
 demesne. 
 
 On a small hill that came in sight so soon 
 as the car had passed from under the gaunt fan- 
 tastic branches that threw themselves over the 
 wall at the roadside, as if making a scrambhng
 
 DAIPvEEX. 21 
 
 clutch at something indefinite in the air, a ruined 
 tower stood out in rehef against the blue sky of 
 this August day. Seeing the ruin in this land 
 of ruins The MacDermot sighed heavily — too 
 heavily to allow of anyone fancying that his 
 emotion was natural. 
 
 ' Ah, my sonn, the toimes have changed,' 
 he said. ' Only a few years have passed — six 
 hunderd or so — since young Brian MacDermot 
 lift that virry cas'le to ask the daughter of the 
 great Dismond of the Lake in marriage. How 
 did he go out, my boy ? ' 
 
 ' You don't mean that we are now ' 
 
 ' How did he go out ? ' again asked The 
 MacDermot, interrupting his son's words of 
 astonishment. 
 
 ' He wint out of that casle ^vith three 
 hunderd and sixty-foive knights — for he had as 
 many knights as there are days in the year.' — 
 Here Eugene, who only caught the phonetic 
 sense of this remarkable fact regarding young 
 Brian MacDermot, gave a grin which his master 
 detected and chastised by a blow from his stick 
 upon the mighty livery coat. 
 
 ' But, father,' said Standish, after the trilling
 
 22 DAIREEiV. 
 
 excitement occasioned by this episode had 
 died away — ' But, father, we are surely not 
 going ' 
 
 ' Hush, my sonn. The young Brian and his 
 ritinue wint out one August day loike this ; and 
 with him was the hunderd harpers, the fifty 
 pipers, and the thirteen noble chiefs of the 
 Lakes, all mounted on the foinest of stades and 
 the mornin' sun glittherin' on their jims aud 
 jew'ls as if they had been dhrops of jew. And 
 so they rode to the cas'le of Dismond, and whin 
 he shut the gates in the face of the noble ritinue 
 and sint out a haughty missage that because the 
 young Prince Brian had slain The Dismond's 
 two sons he would not admit him as a suitor to 
 his daughter, the noble young prince burnt the 
 Dismond's tower to the ground and carried off 
 the daughter who, as the bards all agree, was 
 the loveliest of her six. Ah, that was a wooin' 
 w^orthy of The MacDermots. Tliese is the 
 diginerate days whin a prince of The MacDer- 
 mots goes on a broken-down car to ask the 
 hand of a daughter of the Geralds.' 
 
 Here a low whistle escaped from Eugene, 
 and he looked down at his boots just as The
 
 DAIKEEN. 23 
 
 MacDermot delivered another rebuke to him 
 of the same nature as the former. 
 
 ' But we're not going to — to — Suanmara ! ' 
 cried Standish in dismay. 
 
 ' Thin where are we goin', may be ye'd till 
 me? ' said his father. 
 
 ' Not there — not there ; you never said you 
 were going there. Why should we go there ? ' 
 
 ' Just for the same ray son that yer noble fore- 
 fa wther Brian MacDermot wint to the tower 
 of the Dismond,' said the father, leaving it to 
 Standish to determine which of the noble acts 
 of the somewhat impetuous young prince their 
 present excursion was designed to emulate. 
 
 ' Do you mean to say, father, that — that — 
 oh, no one could think of such a thing as ' 
 
 ' My sonn,' said the hereditary monarch 
 coolly, ' ye made a confishen to me this mornin' 
 that only laves me one course. The honour of 
 The MacDermots is at stake, and as the reprisin- 
 tative of the fam'ly it's my jewty to presarve it 
 untarnished. Whin a sonn of moine confisses 
 his afficshon for a lady, the only course he can 
 purshoo towards her is to marry her, lit her 
 even be a Gerald.'
 
 24 DAI REEK". 
 
 ' I won't go on such a fool's errand,' cried 
 the young man. ' She — her grandfather — tliey 
 would laugh at such a proposal.' 
 
 ' The Dismond laughed, and what came of 
 it, my boy ? ' said The MacDermot sternly. 
 
 ' I will not go on any further,' cried Standish, 
 unawed by the reference to the consequences 
 of the inopportune hilarity of the Desmond. 
 ' How could you think that I would have the 
 presumption to fancy for the least moment that 
 — that — she — that is — that they would listen 
 to — to anything I might say ? Oh, the idea is 
 absurd ! ' 
 
 ' My boy, I am the hid of the loine of The 
 Munster MacDermots, and the hid always de- 
 cides in dilicate matthers loike this. I'll not 
 have the faitlins of the lady thrified with even 
 by a sonn of my own. Didn't ye confiss all 
 to me ? ' 
 
 ' I will not go on,' the young man cried 
 again. ' She — that is— they will think that we 
 mean an affront — and it is a gross insult to 
 her — to them — to even fancy that — oh, if we 
 were anything but what we are there would be 
 some hope — some chance ; if I had only been
 
 DA] KEEN'. 25 
 
 allowed my own way I might have won her in 
 time — long years perhaps, but still some time. 
 But now ' 
 
 ' Eecreant sonn of a noble house, have ye 
 no more spirit than a Saxon ? ' said the father, 
 trying to assume a dignified position, an attempt 
 that the jerking of the imperfect spring of the 
 vehicle frustrated. ' Mightn't the noblist fam'ly 
 in Europe think it an honour to be alloid with 
 The Munster MacDermots, penniless though 
 we are ? ' 
 
 ' Don't go to-day, father,' said Standish 
 almost piteously ; ' no, not to-day. It is too 
 sudden — my mind is not made up.' 
 
 ' But moine is, my boy. Haven't I prepared 
 ivirything so that there can be no mistake ? ' — 
 here he pressed his tall hat more firmly upon his 
 forehead and glanced towards Eugene's boots 
 that projected a considerable way beyond the 
 line of the car. ' My boy,' he continued, ' The 
 MacDermots discind to alloy thimsilves with any 
 other fam'ly only for the sake of kaapin' up the 
 race. It's their solemn jewty.' 
 
 'I'll not go on any further on such an 
 errand — I will not be such a fool,' said Stand-
 
 26 DAIREEK 
 
 isb, making a movement on his side of the 
 car. 
 
 'My boy,' said The MacDermot uncon- 
 cernedly — ' My boy, ye can git off at any mo- 
 mint ; yer prisince will make no differince in 
 the matter. The mathrimonial alloinces of The 
 MacDermots is fam'ly matters not individjewl. 
 The hid of the race only is accountable to 
 posterity for the consequinces of the acks of 
 them under him. I'm the hid of the race.' He 
 removed his hat and looked upward, somewhat 
 jerkily, but still impressively. 
 
 Standish MacDermot's eyes flashed and his 
 hands clenched themselves over the rail of the 
 car, but he did not make any attempt to carry 
 out his threat of getting off. He did not utter 
 another word. How could he ? It was torture 
 to him to hear his father discuss beneath the 
 ear of the boy Eugene such a question as his 
 confession of love for a certain lady. It was 
 terrible for him to observe the expression of 
 interest which was apparent upon the ingenuous 
 face of Eugene, and to see his nods of approval 
 at the words of The MacDermot. What could 
 poor Standish do beyond closing his teeth
 
 DAIEEEX. 27 
 
 very tightly and clenching his hands madly as 
 the car jerked its way along the coast of Lough 
 Suangorm, in view of a portion of the loveliest 
 scenery in the world ?
 
 28 DAIREEN. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable 
 Seem to me all the uses of this world. 
 
 Gather by him, as he is behaved, 
 If 't be the affliction of his love or no 
 That thus he suffers for. 
 
 Break my heart, for I must hold my tongue. 
 
 Hamlet. 
 
 The road upon which the car was driving was 
 made round an elevated part of the coast of 
 the lough. It curved away from where the 
 castle of The MacDermots was situated on one 
 side of the water, to the termination of the 
 lough. It did not slope downwards in the 
 least at any part, but swept on to the oppo- 
 site lofty shore, five hundred feet above the 
 great roUers from the Atlantic that spent them- 
 selves amongst the half-hidden rocks. 
 
 The car jerked on in silence after The Mac- 
 Dermot had spoken his impressive sentence.
 
 DAIREEX. 29 
 
 Standish's hands soon relaxed their passionate 
 hold upon the rail of the car. and, in spite of 
 his consciousness of being twenty-three years 
 of age, he found it almost impossible to restrain 
 his tears of mortification from bursting their 
 bonds. He knew how pure — how fervent — 
 how exhaustless was the love that filled all his 
 heart. He had been loving, not without hope, 
 but without utterance, for years, and now all 
 the fruit of his patience — of his years of 
 speechlessness — would be blighted by the ridi- 
 culous action of his father. What would now 
 be left for him in the world, he asked himself, 
 and the despairing tears of his heart gave him 
 his only answer. 
 
 He was on the seaward side of the car, 
 which was now passing out of the green shade 
 of the bouorhs that for three miles overhun<x 
 the road. Then as the curve of the termina- 
 tion of the lough was approached, the full 
 panorama of sea and coast leapt into view, 
 with all the magical glamour those wizards 
 Motion and Height can en weave round a scene. 
 Far beneath, the narrow band of blue water 
 lost itself amongst the steep cliffs. The double
 
 oO DAIREEN. 
 
 coasts of the lough that were joined at the point 
 of vision, broadened out in undulating heights 
 towards the mighty headlands of the entrance 
 that hfted up their hoary brows as the lion- 
 waves of the Atlantic leapt between them and 
 crouched in unwieldy bulk at their bases. Far 
 away stretched that ocean, its horizon lost in 
 mist ; and above the line of rugged coast-cliff 
 arose mountains — mighty masses tumbled to- 
 gether in black confusion, like Titanic gladia- 
 tors locked in the close throes of the wrestle. 
 
 Never before had the familiar scene so 
 taken Standish in its arms as it did now. He 
 felt it. He looked down at the green islands 
 of the lough encircled with the floss of the 
 moving waters ; he looked along the slopes of 
 the coasts with the ruins of ancient days on 
 , their summits, then his eyes went out to where 
 the sun dipped towards the Atlantic, and he 
 felt no more that passion of mortification which 
 his reflections had aroused. Quickly as it had 
 sprung into view the scene dissolved as the car 
 entered a glen, dim in the shadow of a great 
 hill whose slope, swathed in purple heather to 
 its highest peak, made a twilight at noon-day
 
 DAIEEEX. 31 
 
 to all beneath. In the distance of the winclino- 
 road beyond the dark edge of the mountain 
 were seen, the grey ridges of another range 
 running far inland. With the twihght shadow 
 of the glen, the shadow seemed to come again 
 over the mind of Standish. He gave liimself 
 up to his own sad thoughts, and when, from a 
 black tarn amongst the low pine-trees beneath 
 the road, a tall heron rose and fled silently 
 through the silent air to the foot of the slope, 
 he regarded it ominously as he would have 
 done a raven. 
 
 There they sat speechless upon the car. 
 The MacDermot, who was a short middle-a^red 
 man with a rather highly-coloured face, and 
 features that not even the most malignant 
 could pronounce of a Eoman or even of a 
 Saxon type, was sitting in silent dignity of 
 which he seemed by no means unconscious. 
 Standish, who was tall, slender almost to a 
 point of lankness, and grey-eyed, was mo- 
 rosely speechless, his father felt. Nature had 
 not given The MacDermot a son after his own 
 heart. The young man's features, that had at 
 one time showed great promise of developing
 
 32 DAIREEX. 
 
 into the pure Milesian, had not fulfilled the 
 early hope they had raised in his father's 
 bosom ; they had within the past twelve years 
 exhibited a downward tendency that was not 
 in keeping with the traditions of The Mac- 
 Dermots. If the direction of the caressing 
 hand of Nature over the features of the 
 family should be reversed, what would re- 
 main to distinguish The MacDermots from 
 their Saxon invaders? This Avas a question 
 whose weight had for some time oppressed the 
 representative of the race ; and he could only 
 quiet his apprehension by the assurance w^hich 
 forced itself upon his mind that Nature would 
 never persist in any course prejudicial to her 
 own interests in the maintenance of an irre- 
 proachable type of manhood. 
 
 Then it was a great grief to the father to 
 become aware of the fact that the speech of 
 Standish was all unlike his own in accent ; it 
 was indeed terribly like the ordinary Saxon 
 speech — at least it sounded so to The Mac- 
 Derm ot whose vowels were dipthongic to a 
 marked degree. But of course the most dis- 
 tressing reflection of the head of the race had
 
 DAIREEX. 33 
 
 reference to the mental disqualifications of his 
 son to sustain the position which he would 
 some day have to occupy as The MacDermot ; 
 for Standish had of late shown a tendency to 
 accept as just the position accorded to him by 
 the enemies of his race, and to allow that there 
 existed a certain unwritten statute of limitations 
 in the maintenance of the divine right of 
 monarchs. He actually seemed to be under 
 the impression that because nine hundred 
 years had elapsed since a MacDermot had been 
 the acknowledged king of Munster, the claim 
 to be regarded as a royal family should not be 
 strongly urged. This was very terrible to The 
 MacDermot. And now he reflected upon all 
 these matters as he held in a fixed and fervent 
 grasp the somewhat untrustworthy rail of the 
 undoubtedly shaky vehicle. 
 
 Thus in silence the car was driven throuo^h 
 the dim glen until the slope on the seaward-side 
 of the road dwindled away and once more the 
 sea came in sight ; and, with the first glimpse of 
 the sea, the square tower of an old, though not 
 an ancient, castle that stx)od half hidden by trees 
 at the base of the purple mountain. In a few 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 84 DAIREEN. 
 
 minutes the car pulled up at the entrance gate 
 to a walled demesne. 
 
 ' Will yer honors git off hare ? ' asked 
 Eugene, preparing to throw the reins down. 
 
 'Nivir ! ' cried The MacDermot emphati- 
 cally. ' Nivir will the hid of the race discind to 
 walk up to the door of a foreigner. Dhrive up 
 to the virry hall, Eugene, as the great Brian 
 MacDermot would have done.' 
 
 ' An' it's hopin' I am that his cyar-sphrings 
 wouldn't be mindid with hemp,' remarked the 
 boy as he pulled the horse round and urged his 
 mild career through the great pillars at the 
 entrance. 
 
 Everything about this place gave signs of 
 having been cared for. The avenue was long, 
 but it could be traversed without any risk of the 
 vehicle being lost in the landslip of a rut. The 
 grass around the trees, though by no means 
 trimmed at the edges, was still not dank with 
 weeds, and the trees themselves if old had none 
 of the gauntness apparent in all the timber 
 about the castle of The MacDermot. As the 
 car went along there was visible every now and 
 again the flash of branching antlers among the
 
 DAIREEX. 35 
 
 green foliage, and more than once the stately 
 head of a red deer appeared gazing at the 
 visitors, motionless as if the animal had been a 
 painted statue. 
 
 The castle, opposite whose black oak door 
 Eugene at last dropped his reins, was by no 
 means an imposing building. It was large and 
 square and at one wing stood the square ivy- 
 covered tower that was seen from the road. 
 Above it rose the great dark mountain ridge, 
 and in front rolled the Atlantic, for the trees 
 prevented the shoreway from being seen. 
 
 ' Eugene, knock at the door of the Geralds,' 
 said The MacDermot from his seat on the car, 
 with a dignity the emphasis of which would 
 have been diminished had he dismounted. 
 
 Eugene looked upward at this order, shook 
 his head in -wonderment, and then got down, 
 but not with quite the same expedition as his 
 boot, which could not sustain the severe test of 
 being suspended for any time in the air. He 
 had not fully seciu-ed it again on his bare foot 
 before a laugh sounded from the balcony over 
 the porch — a laugh that made Standish's face 
 redder than any rose — that made Eugene 
 d2
 
 36 DAIREEX. 
 
 glance up with a grin and touch his hat, 
 even before a girl's voice was heard saying : 
 
 ' Oh, Eugene, Eugene ! What a clumsy 
 fellow you are to be sure.' 
 
 'Ah, don't be a sayin' of that. Miss 
 Daireen ma'am,' the boy replied as he gave 
 a final stamp to secure possession of the 
 boot. 
 
 The MacDermot looked up and gravely 
 removed his hat; but Standish having got 
 down from the car turned his gaze seawards. 
 Had he followed his fatlier's example he would 
 have seen the laughing face and the graceful 
 figure of a girl leaning over the balustrade of 
 the porch surveying tlie group beneath her. 
 
 ' And how do you do, MacDermot ? ' she 
 said. ' Xo, no, don't let Eugene knock ; all the 
 dogs are asleep except King Cormac, and I am 
 too grateful to allow their rest to be broken. 
 I'll go down and give you entrance.' 
 
 She disappeared from the balcony, and in a 
 few moments the hall door was softly sundered 
 and the western sunlight fell about tlie form of 
 the portress. The girl was tall and exquisitely 
 moulded from her little blue shoe to her rich
 
 DAIREEX. 37 
 
 brown hair over which the sun made hght and 
 shade ; her face was shghtly flushed with her 
 rapid descent and the quick kiss of the sunhght, 
 and her eyes were of the most gracious grey 
 that ever shone or laughed or wept. But her 
 mouth — it was a visible song. It expressed all 
 that song is capable of suggesting — ^passion of 
 love or of anger, comfort of hope or of 
 charity. 
 
 ' Enter, my king,' she said, giving The 
 MacDermot her hand ; then turning to Standish, 
 ' How do you do, Standish ? Why do you not 
 come in ? ' 
 
 But Standish uttered no word. He took 
 her hand for a second and followed his father 
 into the big square oaken hall. All was black 
 oak, floor and wall and ceiling, only while tlie 
 sunlight leapt through the open door was the 
 sombre hue reheved by the flashmg of the arms 
 that lined the walls, and the glittering of the 
 enormous elk-antlers that spread their branches 
 over the lintels. 
 
 ' And you drove all round the coast to see 
 me, I hope,' said the girl, as they stood together 
 under the battle-axes of the brave davs of old,
 
 38 DAIREEX. 
 
 when the' qualifications for becoming a success- 
 ful knight and a successful blacksmith were 
 identical. 
 
 ' We drove round to admu'e the beauty of 
 the lovely Daireen,' said The MacDermot with 
 a flourish of the hand that did him infinite 
 credit. 
 
 ' If that is all,' laughed the girl, ' your visit 
 will not be a long one.' She was standing 
 listlessly caressing with her hand the coarse 
 hide of King Cormac, a gigantic wolf-dog, and 
 in that posture looked like a statue of the 
 Genius of her country. The dog had been 
 welcoming Stan dish a moment before, and the 
 young man's hand still resting upon its head felt 
 the casual touch of the girl's fingers as she 
 played with the animal's ears. Every touch 
 sent a thrill of passionate dehght through him. 
 
 ' The beauty of the daughter of the Geralds 
 is worth comin' so far to see ; and now that I 
 look at her before me ' 
 
 ' Now you know that it is impossible to 
 make out a single feature in this darkness,' 
 said Daireen. ' So come along into the draw- 
 ing-room.'
 
 DAIREEX. 39 
 
 ' Go with the lovely Daireen, my boy,' said 
 The MacDermot as the girl led the ^vay across 
 the hall. ' For inisself, I think I'll just turn in 
 here.' He opened a door at one side of the hall 
 and exposed to view, within the room beyond, 
 a piece of ancient furniture which was not yet 
 too decrepit to sustain the burden of a row of 
 square glass bottles and tumblers. But before 
 he entered he whispered to Standish with an 
 appropriate action, ' Make it all roight with 
 her by the toime I come back.' And so he 
 vanished. 
 
 ' The MacDermot is right,' said Daireen. 
 ' You must join him in taking a glass of wine 
 after your long drive, Standish.' 
 
 For the first time since he had spoken on 
 the car Standish found his voice. 
 
 ' I do not want to drink anything, Daireen,' 
 he said. 
 
 ' Then we ^viU go round to the garden and 
 try to find grandpapa, if you don't want to 
 rest.' 
 
 With her brown unbonneted hair tossing in 
 its irregular ringlets about her neck, she went 
 out by a door at the farther end of the square
 
 40 DAIREEN. 
 
 hall, and Standish followed her by a high-arched 
 passage that seemed to lead right through the 
 building. At the extremity was an iron gn,te 
 which the girl unlocked, and they passed into a 
 large garden somewhat wild in its growth, but 
 with its few brilhant spots of colour well 
 brought out by the general feeling of purple 
 that forced itself upon everyone beneath the 
 shadow of the great mountain-peak. Very 
 lovely did that world of heather seem now as 
 the sun burned over against the slope, stirring 
 up the wonderful secret hues of dark blue and 
 crimson. The peak stood out in bold rehef 
 against the pale sky, and above its highest point 
 an eagle sailed. 
 
 ' I have such good news for you, Standish,' 
 said Miss Gerald. ' You cannot guess what 
 it is.' 
 
 ' I cannot guess what good news there could 
 possibly be in store for me,' he replied, with so 
 much sadness in his voice that the girl gave a 
 little start, and then the least possible smile> 
 for she was well aware that the luxury 
 of sadness w^as frequently indulged in by her 
 companion.
 
 DAIREEN. 41 
 
 ' It is good news for you, for me, for all of 
 us, for all the world, for well, for every- 
 body that I have not included. Don't laugh at 
 me, please, for my news is that papa is coming 
 home at last. Xow isn't that good news ? ' 
 
 ' I am very glad to hear it,' said Standish. 
 ' I am very glad because I know it will make 
 you happy.' 
 
 ' How nicely said ; and I know you feel it, 
 my dear Standish. Ah, poor papa ! he has had 
 a hard time of it, battling with the terrible 
 Indian climate and v.dth those annoying people.' 
 
 'It is a life worth living,' cried Standish. 
 ' After you are dead the world feels that you 
 have lived in it. The world is the better for 
 your life.' 
 
 ' You are right,' said Daireen. ' Papa leaves 
 India crowned with honours, as the newspapers 
 say. The Queen has made him a C.B., you 
 know. But — only think how provoking it is — 
 he has been ordered by the surgeon of his regi- 
 ment to return by long-sea, instead of overland, 
 for the sake of his health : so that though I got 
 
 ' do 
 
 his letter from Madras yesterday to tell me that
 
 42 DAIREEN. 
 
 he was at the point of starting, it will be another 
 month before I can see him.' 
 
 ' But then he will no doubt have completely 
 recovered,' said Standish. 
 
 ' That is my only consolation. Yes ; he will 
 be himself again — himself as I saw him five 
 years ago in our bungalow — how well I re- 
 member it and its single plantain-tree in the 
 garden where the officers used to hunt me for 
 kisses.' 
 
 Standish frowned. It was to him a hideous 
 recollection for the girl to have. He would 
 cheerfully have undertaken the strangulation of 
 each of those sportive officers. ' I should have 
 learned a great deal during these five years 
 that have passed since I was sent to England to 
 school, but I'm afraid I didn't. Never mind, 
 papa won't cross-examine me to see if his money 
 has been wasted. But why do you look so sad, 
 Standish ? You do look sad, you know.' 
 
 ' I feel it too,' he cried. ' I feel more 
 wretched than I can tell you. I'm sick of 
 everything here — no, not here, you know, but 
 at home. There I am m that ciu-sed jail, shut
 
 DAIREEN. 43 
 
 out from the world, a beggar without the hberty 
 to beg.' 
 
 ' Oh, Standish ! ' 
 
 ' But it is the truth, Daireen. I might as 
 well be dead as hving as I am. Yes, better — 
 I wish to God I was dead, for then there might 
 be at least some chance of making a beginning 
 in a new sort of life under different condi- 
 tions.' 
 
 ' Isn't it wicked to talk that way, Standish ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know,' he replied doggedly. 
 ' Wickedness or goodness have ceased to be 
 anything more to me than vague conditions of 
 life in a world I have nothing to say to. I 
 cannot be either good or bad here.' 
 
 Daireen looked very solemn at this confes- 
 sion of impotence. 
 
 ' You told me you meant to speak to The 
 MacDermot about going away or doing some- 
 thing,' she said. 
 
 ' And I did speak to him, but it came to 
 the one end : it was a disgrace for the son of 
 
 the bah, you know how he talks. Every 
 
 person of any position laughs at him ; only 
 those worse than himself think that he is
 
 44 DAIREEN. 
 
 wronged. But I'll do something if it should 
 only be to enlist as a common soldier.' 
 
 ' Standish, do not talk that way, like a good 
 boy,' she said, laying her hand upon his arm. 
 ' I have a bright thought for the first time : 
 wait just for another month until papa is here, 
 and he will, you may be sure, tell you what is 
 exactly right to do. Oh, there is grandpapa, 
 with his gun as usual, commg from the hill' 
 
 They saw at a little distance the figure of 
 a tall old man carrying a gun and followed by 
 a couple of sporting dogs. 
 
 ' Daireen,' said Standish, stopping suddenly 
 as if a thought had just struck him. ' Daireen, 
 promise me that you will not let anything my 
 father may say here to-day make you think 
 badly of me.' 
 
 ' Good gracious ! why should I ever do that ? 
 What is he going to say that is so dreadful ? ' 
 
 ' I cannot tell you, Daireen ; but you will 
 promise me ; ' he had seized her by the hand and 
 was looking with earnest entreaty into her eyes. 
 ' Daireen,' he continued, ' you will give me your 
 word. You have been such a friend to me 
 alwaj^s — such a good angel to me.'
 
 DAIREEX. 45 
 
 ' And we shall always be friends, Stand ish. 
 I promise you this. Now let go ray hand, like 
 a good boy.' 
 
 He obeyed her, and in a few minutes they 
 had met Daireen's grandfather, Mr. Gerald, who 
 had been coming towards them. 
 
 ' What, The MacDermot here ? then I must 
 hasten to him,' said the old gentleman, handing 
 his gun to Standish. 
 
 No one knew better than Mr. Gerald the 
 necessity that existed for hastening to The Mac- 
 Dermot in case of his waiting for a length of 
 time in that room the sideboard of which was 
 laden with bottles.
 
 46 DAIREEN. 
 
 CHAPTER ly. 
 
 And now, Laertes, what's the news with you ? 
 You told us of some suit : what is't, Laertes ? 
 
 He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave 
 By laboursome petition ; and at last. 
 Upon his will I sealed my hard consent. 
 
 Horatio. There's no offence, my lord. 
 Hamlet. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio ; 
 And much offence too. — Hamlet. 
 
 The MacDermot had been led away from his 
 companionship in that old oak room by the 
 time his son and Miss Gerald returned from the 
 garden, and the consciousness of his own dignity 
 seemed to have increased considerably since 
 they had left him. This emotion was a variable 
 possession with him : anyone acquainted with 
 his habits could without difficulty, from know- 
 ing the degree of dignity he manifested at 
 any moment, calculate minutely the space of 
 time he must of necessity have spent in a room 
 furnished similarly to that he had just now left.
 
 DAIREEX. 47 
 
 He was talking pretty loudly in the room 
 to which he had been led by Mr. Gerald when 
 Daireen and Standish entered ; and beside him 
 was a white-haired old lady whom Standish 
 greeted as Mrs. Gerald and the girl called 
 grandmamma — an old lady with very white 
 hair but with large dark eyes whose lustre 
 remained yet undimmed. 
 
 ' Standish will reveal the mystery,' said this 
 old lady as the young man shook hands with 
 her. ' Your father has been speaking in pro- 
 verbs, Standish, and we want your assistance to 
 read them.' 
 
 ' He is my sonn,' said The MacDermot, 
 waving his hand proudly and lifting up his 
 head. ' He will hare his fawther spake on his 
 behoof. Head of the Geralds, Gerald-na-Tor, 
 chief of the hills, the last of The MacDermots, 
 kings of Munster, Innishdermot, and all islands, 
 comes to you.' 
 
 ' And I am honoured by his visit, and glad 
 to find him looking so well,' said Mr. Gerald. 
 * I am only sorry you can't make it suit you to 
 come oftener, MacDermot.' 
 
 ' It's that boy Eugene that's at fault,' said
 
 48 DAIREEN. 
 
 The MacDermot, dropping so suddenly into a 
 colloquial speech from his eloquent Ossianic 
 strain that one might have been led to believe 
 his opening words were somewhat forced. ' Yis, 
 my lad,' he continued, addressing Mr. Gerald ; 
 ' that Eugene is ayther breakin' the sphrings or 
 the sthraps or his own bones.' Here he re- 
 collected that liis mission was not one to be 
 expressed in this ordinary vein. He straight- 
 ened himself in an instant, and as he went on 
 asserted even more dignity than before. ' Gerald, 
 ye know my posishin, don't ye ? and ye know 
 yer own ; but ye can't say, can ye, that The 
 MacDermot ivir hild himsilf aloof from yer table 
 by inny show of proide ? I mixed with ye as 
 if we were ayquals.' 
 
 Again he waved his hand patronizingly, but 
 no one showed the least sign of laughter. 
 Standish was in front of one of the windows 
 leaning his head upon his hand as he looked out 
 to the misty ocean. ' Yis, I've threated ye at 
 all toimes as if ye had been born of the land, 
 though this ground we thread on this moment 
 was torn from the grasp of The MacDermot by 
 fraud.'
 
 DAIREEX. 49 
 
 ' True, true — six hundred years ago,' re- 
 marked Mr. Gerald. He had been so fre- 
 quently reminded of this fact during his 
 acquaintance with The MacDermot, he could 
 afford to make the concession he now did. 
 
 ' But I've not ht that rankle in my heart,' 
 continued The MacDermot ; ' I've discindid to 
 break brid with ye and to dhrink — dhrink 
 water with ye — ay, at toimes. Ye know my 
 sonn too, and ye know that if he's^ not the 
 same as his fawther to the backbone, it's not 
 his fawther that's to blame for it. It was the 
 last wish of his poor mother — rist her soul ! — 
 that he should be schooled outsoide our coun- 
 thry, and ye know that I carried out her will 
 though it cost me dare. He's been back these 
 four yares as ye know — what's he lookin' out 
 at at the windy ? — but it's only thray since he 
 found out the purl of the Lough Suangorm — 
 the di'mond of Sheve Docas — the beautiful 
 daughter of the Geralds. Ay, he confissed to 
 me this mornin' where his soft heart had 
 turned, poor boy. Don't be a-blooshin', Standish 
 O'Dermot MacDermot ; the blood of The Mac- 
 Dermots shouldn't bethray itsilf in their chakes.' 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 DAIREEJs^ 
 
 Standish had started away from the window 
 before his father had ended ; his hands were 
 clenched, and his cheeks were burning with 
 shame. He could not fail to see the frown that 
 was settling down upon the face of Mr. Gerald. 
 But he dared not even glance towards Daireen. 
 
 ' My dear MacDermot, we needn't talk on 
 this subject any farther just now,' said the girl's 
 grandfather, as the orator paused for an instant. 
 
 But The MacDermot only gave his hand 
 another wave before he proceeded. ' I have 
 promised my boy to make him happy,' he said, 
 ' and ye know what the word of a MacDermot 
 is worth ayven to his sonn ; so though I confiss 
 I was takin' aback at furst, yit I at last con- 
 sinted to throw over my natchurl fam'ly proide 
 and to lit my boy have his way. An alloince 
 between the MacDermots and the Geralds is 
 not what would have been thought about a few 
 yares ago, but The MacDermots have always 
 bane condiscindin'.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, you condescend to a jest now 
 and again with us, but really this is a sort of 
 mystery I have no clue to,' said Mr. Gerald. 
 ' Mysthry ? Ay, it will astonish the world
 
 DAIREEX. 51 
 
 to know that The MacDermot has given his 
 consint to such an alloince ; it must be kept 
 sacret for a whoile for fare of its effects upon 
 the foreign States that have their eyes upon 
 all our stheps. I wouldn't loike this made a 
 State affair at all' 
 
 ' My dear MacDermot, you are usually very 
 lucid,' said Mr. Gerald, ' but to-day I somehow 
 cannot arrive at your meaning.' v_ 
 
 ' What, sir,' cried The MacDermot, giving his 
 head an angry twitch. ' What, su-, do ye mane 
 to tell me that ye don't onderstand that I have 
 givin my consint to my sonn takin' as his woife 
 the daughter of the Geralds? — see how the 
 lovely Daireen blooshes loike a rose.' 
 
 Daireen was certainly blushing, as she left 
 her seat and went over to the furthest end of 
 the room. But Standish was deadly pale, his 
 lips tightly closed. 
 
 ' MacDermot, this is absurd — quite absurd ! ' 
 said Mr. Gerald, hastily rising. ' Pray let us 
 talk no more in such a strain.' 
 
 Then The MacDermot 's consciousness of his 
 own dignity asserted itself He drew himself 
 up and threw back his head. ' Sir, do ye mane 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUNOIS
 
 52 DAIREEN. 
 
 to put an affront upon the one who has lift his 
 proper station to raise yer fam'ly to his own hvel?' 
 ' Don't let us quarrel, MacDermot ; you 
 know how highly I esteem you personally, and 
 you know that I have ever looked upon the 
 family of the MacDermots as the noblest in the 
 land.' 
 
 ' And it is the noblest in the land. There's 
 not a dhrop of blood in our veins that hasn't 
 sprung from the heart of a king,' cried The Mac- 
 Dermot. 
 
 ' Yes, yes, I know it ; but — well, we will not 
 talk any further to-day. Daireen, you needn't 
 go away.' 
 
 ' Hivins ! do ye mane to say that I haven't 
 
 spoke plainly enough, that ' 
 
 ' Now, MacDermot, I must really interrupt 
 
 you ' 
 
 ' Must ye ? ' cried the representative of 
 the ancient line, his face developing all the 
 secret resources of redness it possessed. ' Must 
 ye intherrupt the heriditary monarch of the 
 counthry where ye're but an immigrant whin 
 he discinds to ayqualize himsilf with ye ? This 
 is the reward of condiscinshin ! Enough, sir, ye
 
 D AIRE EX. 53 
 
 have afTronted the fam'ly that were hviii' in 
 cas'les whin yer forefawthers were loike bastes 
 in caves. The offer of an alloince ought to 
 have come from you, not from me ; but nivir 
 agin will it be sid that The MacDermot forgot 
 what was jew to him and his fam'ly. Xo, by 
 the powers, Gerald, ye'll nivir have the chance 
 agin. I scorn ye ; I reject yer alloince. The 
 MacDermot sates himself once more upon his 
 anshint throne, an' he thramples upon ye all. 
 Come, my sonn, look at thim that has insulted 
 yer fam'ly — look at thim for the last toime and 
 lift up yer hid.' 
 
 The grandeiu" with which The MacDermot 
 uttered this speech was overpowering. He had 
 at its conclusion turned towards poor Standish, 
 and waved his hand in the direction of Mr. 
 Gerald. Then Standish seemed to have re- 
 covered himself. 
 
 ' No, father, it is you who have insulted this 
 family by talking as you have done,' he cried 
 passionately. 
 
 ' Boy ! ' shouted The MacDermot. ' Eecreant 
 sonn of a noble race, don't demane yersilf 
 with such lancruacre ! '
 
 54 DAIEEEN. 
 
 ' It is you who have demeaned our family/ 
 cried the son still more energetically. 'You 
 have sunk us even lower than we were before.' 
 Then he turned imploringly towards Mr. Gerald. 
 ' You know — you know that I am only to be 
 pitied, not blamed, for my father's words,' he 
 said quietly, and then went to the door. 
 
 ' My dear boy,' said the old lady, hastening 
 towards him. 
 
 ' Madam ! ' cried The MacDermot, raising his 
 arm majestically to stay her. 
 
 She stopped in the centre of the room. 
 Daireen had also risen, her pure eyes full of 
 tears as she grasped her grandfather's hand 
 while he laid his other upon her head. 
 
 From the door Standish looked with 
 passionate gratitude back to the girl, then rushed 
 out. 
 
 But The MacDermot stood for some moments 
 with his head elevated, the better to express the 
 scorn that was in his heart. No one made a 
 motion, and then he stalked after his son.
 
 DAIREEX. 00 
 
 CHAPTEK V. 
 
 "VVTiat advancement may I hope from thee 
 That no revenue hast . . . 
 To feed and clothe thee ? 
 
 GuUdenstem. The King, sir, — 
 
 Hamlet. Ay, sir, what of him ? 
 
 Guild. Is in his retirement marvellous distempered, 
 
 Handet. With drink, sir ? 
 
 GuUd. No, my lord, rather with choler. 
 
 Hamlet. The King doth wake to-night and takes his rouse. 
 Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels. 
 
 • ••••• t 
 
 Horatio. Is it a custom ? 
 
 Hamlet. Ay, marry is't : 
 But to my mind, though I am native here, 
 And to the manner horn, it is a custom 
 More honour'd in the breach than the observance. 
 This heavy-headed revel ... 
 Makes us traduced and taxed. — Hamlet. 
 
 To do The MacDermot justice, while he was 
 driving homeward upon that very shaky car 
 round the lovely coast he was somewhat dis- 
 turbed in mind as he reflected upon the 
 possible consequences of his quarrel with old
 
 56 DAIREEN. 
 
 Mr. Gerald. He was dimly conscious of the 
 truth of the worldly and undeniably selfish 
 maxim referring to the awkwardness of a 
 quarrel with a neighbour. And if there is any 
 truth in it as a general maxim its value is 
 certainly intensified when the neighbour in 
 question has been the lender of sundry sums 
 of money. A neighbour under these condi- 
 tions should not be quarrelled with, The Mac- 
 Dermot knew. 
 
 The MacDermot had borrowed from Mr. 
 Gerald, at various times, certain moneys which 
 had amounted in the aggregate to a consider- 
 able sum ; for though Daireen's grandfather 
 was not possessed of a very large income from 
 the land that had been granted to his ancestors 
 some few hundred years before, he had still 
 enoufjh to enable him from time to time to oblioje 
 The MacDermot with a loan. And this reflec- 
 tion caused The MacDermot about as much 
 mental uneasiness as the irregular motion of the 
 vehicle did physical discomfort. By the time, 
 however, that the great hill, whose heather 
 slope was now wrapped in the purple shade of 
 twilight, its highest peak alone being bathed in
 
 DAIKEEX. 57 
 
 the red glory of the sunset, was passed, his mind 
 was almost at ease ; for he recalled the fact that 
 his misunderstandings with Mr. Gerald were 
 exactly equal in number to his visits ; he never 
 passed an hour at Suanmara without what would 
 at any rate have been a quarrel but for Mr. 
 Gerald's good nature, which refused to be 
 ruffled. And as no reference had ever upon 
 these occasions been made to his borrowings. 
 The MacDermot felt that he had no reason to 
 conclude that his present quarrel would become 
 embarrassing through any action of ^Ir. Gerald's. 
 So he tried to feel the luxiu-y of the scorn that 
 he had so powerfully expressed in the room at 
 Suanmara. 
 
 ' Mushrooms of a night's growth ! ' he mut- 
 tered. ' I thrampled thim beneath my fate. 
 They may go down on their knees before me 
 now, I'll have nothin' to say to thlm.' Then 
 as the car passed out of the glen and he saw 
 before him the long shadows of the hills lying 
 amongst the crimson and yellow flames that 
 swept from the sunset out on the Atlantic, and 
 streamed between the headlands at the en- 
 trance to the lough, he became more fixed in his
 
 58 DAIREEN. 
 
 resolution. * The sonn of The MacDermot will 
 nivir wid with the daughter of a man that is 
 paid by the opprissors of the counthry, no, 
 nivir ! ' 
 
 This was an allusion to the fact of Daireen's 
 father being a colonel in the British army, on 
 service in India. Then exactly between the 
 headlands the sun went down in a gorgeous 
 mist that was permeated with the glow of the 
 orb it enveloped. The waters shook and 
 trembled in the hght, but the many islands of 
 the lough remained dark and silent in the 
 midst of the glow. The MacDermot became 
 more resolute still. He had almost forgotten 
 that he had ever borrowed a penny from Mr. 
 Gerald. He turned to where Standish sat 
 silent and almost grim. 
 
 ' And you, boy,' said the father — ' you that 
 threw yer insults in my face — you that's a 
 disgrace to the fam'ly — I've made up my moind 
 what I'll do with you ; I'll — yis, by the powers, 
 I'll disinhirit ye.' 
 
 But not a word did Standish utter in reply 
 to this threat, the force of which, coupled with 
 an expressive motion of the speaker, jeopardised
 
 DAIREEN. 59 
 
 the imperfect spring, and wrung from Eugene 
 a sudden exclamation.' 
 
 'Holy mother o' Saint Malachi, kape the 
 sthring from breakin' yit awhile ! ' he cried 
 devoutly. 
 
 And it seemed that the diiver's devotion was 
 efficacious, for, without any accident, the car 
 reached the entrance to Innishdermot, as the 
 residence of the ancient monarchs had been 
 called since the days when the waters of Lough 
 Suangorm had flowed all about the castle slope, 
 for even the lough had become reduced in 
 strength. 
 
 The twilight, rich and blue, was now swath- 
 ing the mountains and overshadowing the dis- 
 tant cliffs, though the waters at their base 
 were steel gray and full of light that seemed 
 to shine upwards through their depth. Deso- 
 late, truly, the ruins loomed through the dim- 
 ness. Only a single feeble light ghmmered 
 from one of the panes, and even this seemed 
 agonizing to the owls, for they moaned wildly 
 and continuously from the round tower. There 
 was, indeed, scarcely an aspect of welcome in 
 anything that surrounded this home which
 
 60 D AIRE EX. 
 
 one family had occupied for seven hundred 
 years. 
 
 As the car stopped at the door, however, 
 there came a voice from an unseen figure, say- 
 ing, in even a more pronounced accent than 
 The MacDermot himself gloried in, ' Wilcome, 
 ye noble sonns of noble soyers ! Wilcome back 
 to the anshent home of the glory ous race that'll 
 stand whoile there's a sod of the land to bear it.' 
 
 ' It's The Eandal himsilf,' said The Mac- 
 Dermot, looking in the direction from which the 
 sound came. ' And where is it that ye are, 
 Eandal ? Oh, I say yer poipe shoinin' loike a 
 star out of the oivy.' 
 
 From the forest of ivy that clung about the 
 porch of the castle the figure of a small man 
 emerged. One of his hands was in his pocket, 
 the other removed a short black pipe, the length 
 of whose stem in comparison to the breadth of 
 its bowl was as the proportion of Falstaff s bread 
 to his sack. 
 
 ' Wilcome back, MacDermot,' said this 
 gentleman, who was indeed The Eandal, heredi- 
 tary chief of Suangorm. ' An' Standish too, 
 how are ye, my boy ? ' Standish shook hands
 
 DAIREEX. 61 
 
 with the speaker, but did not utter a word. 
 ' An' where is it ye're aftlier dhrivin' from ? ' 
 continued The Eandal. 
 
 ' It's a long dhrive and a long stliory,' said 
 The MacDermot. 
 
 ' Thin for hivin's sake don't begin it till 
 we've put boy the dinner. I'm goin' to take 
 share with ye this day, and I'm afther waitin' an 
 hour and more.' 
 
 ' It's wilcome The Eandal is iviryxlay in the 
 wake,' said The MacDermot, leading the way 
 into the great dilapidated hall, where in the 
 ancient days fifty men-at-arms had been wont 
 to feast royally. Now it was black in night. 
 
 In the room where the dinner was laid 
 there were but two candles, and their feeble 
 glimmer availed no more than to make tlie 
 blotches on the cloth more apparent : the maps 
 of the British Isles done in mustard and gravy 
 were numerous. At each end a huae black 
 bottle stood like a sentry at the border of a 
 snowfield. 
 
 By far the greater portion of the hght was 
 supplied by the blazing log in the fire-place. 
 It lay not in any grate but upon the bare
 
 62 DAIREEN. 
 
 hearth, and crackled and roared up the chimney 
 like a demon prostrate in torture. The Eandal 
 and his host stood before the blaze, while 
 Standish seated himself in another part of the 
 room. The ruddy flicker of the wood fire shone 
 upon the faces of the two men, and the yellow 
 glimmer of the candle upon the face of Standish. 
 Here and there a polish upon the surface of the 
 black oak panelling glimpsed, but all the rest 
 of the high room was weirdly dim. 
 
 Salmon from the lough, venison from the 
 forest, wild birds from the moor made up the 
 dinner. All were served on silver dishes 
 strangely worked, and plates of the same metal 
 were laid before the diners, while horns 
 mounted on massive stands were the drinkinop 
 vessels. From these dishes The MacDermots of 
 the past had eaten, and from these horns they 
 had drunken, and though the present head of 
 the family could have gained many years' income 
 had he given the metal to be melted, he had 
 never for an instant thought of taking such a 
 step. He would have starved with that plate 
 empty in front of him sooner than have sold it 
 to buy bread.
 
 DAIREEX. 63 
 
 Standish spoke no word during the entire 
 meal, and the guest saw that something had 
 gone wrong ; so with his native tact he chatted 
 away asking questions, but waiting for no 
 answer. 
 
 When the table was cleared and the old 
 serving-woman had brought in a broken black 
 kettle of boihng water, and had laid in the centre 
 of the table an immense silver bowl for the brew- 
 ing of the punch, The Eandal drew up the rem- 
 nant of his collar and said : 
 
 ' Xow for the sthory of the droive, MacDer- 
 mot ; I'm riddy whin ye fill the bowl.' 
 
 Standish rose from the table and walked 
 away to a seat at the furthest end of the great 
 room, where he sat hidden in the gloom of the 
 corner. The Eandal did not think it incon- 
 sistent with his chieftainship to wink at his 
 host. 
 
 ' Eandal,' said The MacDermot, ' I've made 
 up my moind. I'll disinhirit that boy, I will.' 
 
 'No,' cried The Eandal eagerly. 'Don't 
 spake so loud, man; if this should git wind 
 through the counthry who knows what might 
 happen ? Disinhirit the boy ; ye don't mane it,
 
 64 DAIREEN. 
 
 MacDermot,' he continued in an excited but 
 awe-stricken whisper. 
 
 ' But by the powers, I do mane it,' cried 
 The MacDermot, who had been testing the 
 potent elements of the punch. 
 
 ' Disinherit me, will you, father ? ' came the 
 sudden voice of Standish echoing strangely 
 down the dark room. Then he rose and stood 
 facing both men at the table, the red glare of 
 the log mixing with the sickly candlelight upon 
 his face and quivering hands. ' Disinherit me ? ' 
 he said again bitterly. ' You cannot do that. I 
 wish you could. My inheritance, what is it ? 
 Degradation of family, proud beggary, a life to 
 be wasted outside the world of hfe and work, 
 and a death rejoiced over by those wretches 
 who have lent you money. Disinherit me from 
 all this, if you can.' 
 
 ' Holy Saint Malachi, hare the sonn of The 
 MacDermots talkin' loike a choild ! ' cried The 
 Eandal. 
 
 ' I don't care who hears me,' said Standish. 
 ' I'm sick of hearing about my forefathers ; no 
 one cares about them now-a-days. I w^anted 
 years ago to go out into the world and work.'
 
 DAIREEX. ' 65 
 
 ' Work — a MacDermot work ! ' cried The 
 Randal horror-stricken. 
 
 ' I told ye so,' said The MacDermot in the 
 tone of one who finds sudden confirmation to 
 the improbable story of some enormity. 
 
 • I wanted to work as a man should to 
 redeem the shame which om- life as it is at 
 present brings upon oiu: family,' said the young 
 man earnestly — almost passionately ; ' but I 
 was not allowed to do anything that I wanted. 
 I was kept here in this jail wasting my best 
 years ; but to-day has brought everything to 
 an end. You say you will disinherit me, 
 father, but I have from this day disinherited 
 myself — I have cast off my old existence. I 
 begin life from to-day.' 
 
 Then he turned away and went out of the 
 room, leaving his father and his guest in dumb 
 amazement before their punch. It was some 
 minutes before cither could speak. At last 
 The Eandal took a draught of the hot spirit, 
 and shook his head thoughtfully. 
 
 ' Poor boy ! poor boy ! he nades to be 
 lucked after till he gits over this turn,' he 
 said. 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 66 DAIREEN. 
 
 'It's all that girl — that Daireeii of the 
 Geralds,' said The MacDermot. ' I found a 
 paper with poethry on it for her this morn- 
 in', and when I forced him he confissed that 
 he was in love with her.' 
 
 ' D'ye tell me that ? And what more did 
 ye do, Mac ? ' 
 
 'I'll tell ye,' said the hereditary prince, 
 leaning over the table. 
 
 And he gave his guest all the details of the 
 visit to the Geralds at length. 
 
 But poor Standish had rushed up the 
 crumbling staircase and was lying on his bed 
 with his face in his hands. It was only now 
 he seemed to feel all the shame that had 
 caused his face to be red and pale by turns 
 in the drawing-room at Suanmara. He lay 
 there in a passion of tears, while the great 
 owls kept moaning and hooting in the tower 
 just outside his window, making sympathetic 
 melody to his ears. 
 
 At last he arose and went over to the 
 window and stood gazing out through the 
 break in the ivy armour of the wall. He 
 gazed over the tops of the trees growing in
 
 D.UBEEX. -67 
 
 a straggling way do^vn the slope to the 
 water's edge. He could see far away the 
 ocean, whose voice he now and again heard 
 as the vnnd bore it around the tower. Thou- 
 sands of stars ghttered above the water and 
 trembled upon its moving surface. He felt 
 strong now. He felt that he might never weep 
 again in the world as he had just wept. Then 
 he turned to another window and sent his eyes 
 out to where that great peak of SHeve Docas 
 stood out dark and terrible amongst the stars. 
 He could not see the house at the base of 
 the hill, but he clenched his hands as he looked 
 out, saying ' Hope.' 
 
 It was late before he got into his bed, and 
 it was still later when he awoke and heard, 
 mingling with the cries of the night-bu'ds, the 
 sound of hoarse singing that floated upward 
 from the room where he had left his father and 
 The Eandal. The prince and the chief were 
 joining their voices in a native melody, Standish 
 knew ; and he was well aware that he would 
 not be distiurbed by the ascent of either during 
 the night. The dormitory arrangements of the 
 
 F 2
 
 68 DAIREEX. 
 
 prince and the chief when they had dined in 
 company were of the simplest nature. 
 
 Standish went to sleep again, and the 
 ancient rafters, that had heard the tones of 
 many generations of MacDermots' voices, trem- 
 bled for some hours with the echoes from the 
 room below, while outside the ancient owls 
 hooted and the ancient sea murmured in its 
 sleep.
 
 DATREEX. 69 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 What imports this soDg ? 
 
 The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail 
 
 And you are stay'd for. There ; my blessing with thee. 
 
 Hamlet. I do not set my life at a pin's fee ^~. , 
 It waves me forth again : I'll follow it. 
 Horatio. ^Miat if it tempt you toward the flood ? . 
 
 Look whether he has not turned his colour. — Hamlet. 
 
 The sounds of wild harp-music were ascend- 
 ing at even from the depths of Glenmara. 
 The sun had sunk, and the hues that had 
 been woven round the west were wasting 
 themselves away on the horizon. The faint 
 shell-pink had drifted and dwindled far from 
 the place of sunset. The woods of the slopes 
 looked very dark now that the red glances 
 from the west were withdrawn from their 
 glossy foliage ; but the heather-swathed moun- 
 tains, towering through the soft blue air to the 
 dark blue sky, were richly purple, as though
 
 70 DAIREEN. 
 
 the sunset hues had become entangled amongst 
 the heather, and had forgotten to fly back to 
 the west that had cast them forth. 
 
 The httle tarn at the foot of the lowest 
 crags was black and still, waiting for the first 
 star- glimpse, and from its marge came the wild 
 notes of a harp fitfully swelling and waning ; 
 and then arose the still wilder and more melan- 
 choly tones of a man's voice chaunting what 
 seemed- like a weird dirge to the fading twi- 
 light, and the language was the Irish Celtic — 
 that language every song of which sounds like 
 a dirge sung over its own death : — 
 
 Why art thou gone from us, White Dove of the Irish woods ? 
 Why art thou gone who made all the leaves tremulous with 
 
 the low voice of love ? 
 Love that tarried yet afar, though the fleet swallow had come 
 
 back to us — 
 Love that stayed in the far lands though the primrose had cast 
 
 its gold by the streams — 
 Love that heard not the voice sent forth from every new-budded 
 
 briar — 
 This love came only when thou camest, and rapture thrilled 
 
 the heart of the green land. 
 Wliy art thou gone from us, White Dove of the Irish woods ? 
 
 This is a translation of the wild lament 
 that arose in the twilight air and stirred up the
 
 DAIREEX. 71 
 
 echoes of tlie rocks. Then the fitful melody 
 of the harp made an interlude : — 
 
 Why art thou gone from us, sweet Linnet of the Irish woods ? 
 "WTiy art thou gone from us whose song brought the Spring to 
 
 our land ? 
 Yea, flowers to thy singing arose from the earth in bountiful 
 
 bloom, 
 And scents of the violet, scents of the hawthorn — all scents of 
 
 the spring 
 Were wafted about us when thy voice was heard albeit in 
 
 autumn. 
 All thoughts of the spring — all its hopes woke and breathed 
 
 through our hearts, 
 Till our souls thrilled with passionate song and the perfume of 
 
 spring which is love. 
 Why art thou gone from us, sweet Linnet of the L-ish 
 woods ? 
 
 Again the chaunter paused and again his 
 harp prolonged the wailing melody. Then 
 passing into a more sadly soft strain, he con- 
 tinued his song: — 
 
 Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy? 
 
 Now thou art gone the berry drops from the arbutus, 
 
 The wind comes in from the ocean with wail and the autumn 
 
 is sad. 
 The yellow leaves perish, whirled wild whither no one can 
 
 know. 
 As the crisp leaves are crushed in the woods, so our hearts 
 
 are crushed at thy parting ;
 
 72 DAIREEX. 
 
 As the woods moan for the summer departed, so we mourn 
 
 that we see thee no more. 
 Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy ? 
 
 Into the twilight the last notes died away, 
 and a lonely heron standing amongst the rushes 
 at the edge of the tarn moved his head ciitically 
 to one side as if waiting for another song with 
 which to sympathize. But he was not the only 
 listener. Far up among the purple crags 
 Standish MacDermot was lying looking out to 
 the sunset w4ien he heard the sound of the 
 chaunt in the glen beneath him. He lay silent 
 while the dirge floated up the mountain-side 
 and died away amongst the heather of the peak. 
 But w^hen the silence of the twilight came once 
 more upon the glen Standish arose and made 
 his way downwards to where an old man with 
 one of the small ancient Irish harps was seated 
 on a stone, his head bent across the strings upon 
 which his fingers still rested. Standish knew 
 him to be one Murrough O'Brian, a descendant 
 of the bards of the country, and an old retainer 
 of the Gerald family. A man learned in Irish, 
 but not speaking an intelligible sentence in 
 English.
 
 DAIREEN. 73 
 
 ' Wliy do you sing the Dirge of Tuathal on 
 this evening, Murroiigh ? ' he asked in his native 
 tongue as he came beside the old man. 
 
 ' What else is there left for me to sing at 
 this time, Standish O'Demiot MacDermot, son 
 of the Prince of Islands and all Munster ? ' said 
 the bard. 'There is nothing of joy left us now. 
 We cannot sing except in sorrow. Does not 
 the land seem to have sympathy witli such 
 songs, prolonging their soimd by its own voice 
 from every glen and mountain-face ? ' 
 
 * It is true,' said Standish. ' As I sat up 
 among the cliffs of heather it seemed to me 
 that the melody was made by the spirits of the 
 glen bewailing in the twilight the departure of 
 the glory of our land.' 
 
 ' See how desolate is all around us here,' 
 said the bard. 'Glenmara is lonely now, where 
 it was wont to be gay with song and laughter ; 
 when the nobles thronged the valley with hawk 
 and hound, the voice of the buale and the 
 melody of a hundred harps were heard stirring 
 up the echoes in delight.' 
 
 ' But now all are gone ; they can only be 
 recalled in vain dreams,' said the second in this
 
 74 DAIREEN. 
 
 duet of Celtic mourners — the younger Marius 
 among the ruins. 
 
 ' The sons of Erin have left her in her lone-» 
 liness while the world is stirred with their brave 
 actions,' continued the ancient bard. 
 
 ' True,' cried Standish ; 'outside is the world 
 that needs Irish hands and hearts to make it 
 better worth living in.' The young man was 
 so enthusiastic in the utterance of his part in the 
 dialogue as to cause the bard to look suddenly 
 up. 
 
 ' Yes, the hands and the hearts of the Irish 
 have done much,' he said. ' Let the men go out 
 into the world for a while, but let our daughters 
 be spared to us.' 
 
 Standish gave a little start and looked 
 enquiringly into the face of the^bard. 
 
 ' What do you mean, Murrough ? ' he asked 
 slowly. 
 
 The bard leant forward as if straining to 
 catch some distant sound. 
 
 ' Listen to it, listen to it,' he said. There 
 was a pause, and through the silence the moan 
 of the far-off ocean was borne through the dim 
 oflen.
 
 DAIREEN. 75: 
 
 ' It is the sound of the Atlantic,' said 
 Standish. ' The breeze from the west carries 
 it to us up from the lough.' 
 
 ' Listen to it and think that she is out on 
 that far ocean,' said the old man. 'Listen 
 to it, and think that Daireen, daughter of the 
 Geralds, has left her Irish home and is now- 
 tossing upon that ocean ; gone is she, the bright 
 bird of the South — gone from those her smile 
 lightened ! ' 
 
 Standish neither started nor uttered a word 
 when the old man had spoken ; but he felt his 
 feet give way under him. He sat down upon 
 a crag and laid his head upon his hand staring 
 into the black tarn. He could not comprehend 
 at first the force of the words ' She is gone.' 
 He had thought of his own departure, but the 
 possibihty of Daireen's had not occurred to him. 
 The meaning of the bard's lament was now 
 apparent to him, and even now the melody 
 seemed to be given back by the rocks that had 
 heard it : 
 
 "Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy ? 
 
 The words moaned through the dim air
 
 76 DAIREEN. 
 
 with the sound of the distant waters for 
 accompaniment. 
 
 'Gone — gone — Daireen,' he whispered. 
 ' And you only tell me of it now,' he added 
 almost fiercely to the old man, for he reflected 
 upon the time he had wasted in that duet of 
 lamentation over the ruins of his country. 
 What a wretchedly trivial thing he felt was 
 the condition of the country compared with 
 such an event as the departure of Daireen 
 Gerald. 
 
 ' It is only since morning that she is gone,' 
 said the bard. ' It was only in the morning 
 that the letter arrived to tell her that her father 
 was lying in a fever at some place where the 
 vessel called on the way home. And now she 
 is gone from us, perhaps for ever.' 
 
 'Murrough,' said the young man, laying his 
 hand upon the other's arm, and speaking in a 
 hoarse whisper. ' Tell me all about her. Why 
 did they allow her to go ? Where is she gone ? 
 Not out to where her father was landed ? ' 
 
 ' Why not there ? ' cried the old man, raising 
 his head proudly. ' Did a Gerald ever shrink
 
 DAIREEN. 77 
 
 from duty wlien the hour came? Brave girl 
 she is, worthy to be a Gerald ! ' 
 
 ' Tell me aU— all/ 
 
 ' What more is there to tell than Avhat is 
 bound up in those three words " She is gone " ? ' 
 said the man. ' The letter came to her grand- 
 father and she saw him read it — I was in the 
 hall — she saw his hand tremble. She stood up 
 there beside him and asked him what was in the 
 letter ; he looked into her face and put 4he letter 
 in her hand. I saw her face grow pale as she 
 read it. Then she sat down for a minute, but 
 no word nor cry came from her until she looked 
 up to the old man's face ; then she clasped her 
 hands and said only, " I will go to him." The 
 old people talked to her of the distance, of the 
 danger ; they told her how she would be alone 
 for days and nights amongst strangers ; but she 
 only repeated, " I will go to him." And now she 
 is gone — gone alone over those waters.' 
 
 ' Alone ! ' Standish repeated. ' Gone away 
 alone, no friend near her, none to utter a word 
 of comfort in her ears ! ' He buried his face in 
 his hands as he pictured the girl whom he had 
 loved silently, but with all his soul, since she had
 
 78 DAIREEX. 
 
 come to her home in Ireland from India where 
 she had lived with her father since the death of 
 his wife ten years ago. He pictured her sitting 
 in her loneliness aboard the ship that was bear- 
 ing her away to, perhaps, the land of her father's 
 grave, and he felt that now. at last all the 
 bitterness that could be crowded upon his life 
 had fallen on him. He gazed into the black 
 tarn, and saw within its depths a star glittering 
 as it glittered in the sky above, but it did 
 not relieve his thoughts with any touch of its 
 gold. 
 
 He rose after a while and gave his hand to 
 Murrough. 
 
 ' Thank vou,' he said. ' You have told me 
 aU better than anyone else could have done. 
 But did she not speak of me, Murrough — only 
 once perhaps ? Did she not send me one little 
 word of farewell ? ' 
 
 ' She gave me this for you,' said the old bard, 
 producing a letter which Standish clutched 
 almost wildly. 
 
 ' Thank God, thank God ! ' he cried, hurry- 
 ing away without another word. But after him
 
 DAIREE2s\ 79 
 
 swept the sound of the bard's lament which he 
 commenced anew, with that query : 
 
 Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy ? 
 
 It was not yet too dark outside the glen for 
 Standish to read the letter which he had just 
 received, and so soon as he found himself in 
 sight of the sea he tore open the cover and 
 read the few lines Daireen Gerald had written 
 with a tremulous hand to say farewell to him. 
 
 ' My father has been left ill with fever at the 
 Cape, and I know that he will recover only if I 
 go to him. I am going away to-day, for the 
 steamer will leave Southampton in four days, 
 and we cannot be there in time unless we start 
 at once. I thought you would not hke me to 
 go without saying good-bye, and God bless you, 
 dear Standish. 
 
 'Daireex Gerald. 
 
 ' You will say good-bye to The MacDermot 
 for me. I thought poor papa would be here to 
 give you the advice you want. Pray to God 
 that I may be in time to see him.'
 
 80 DAIREEN. 
 
 He read the lines by the grey Hght reflected 
 from the sea — ^he read them until his eyes were 
 dim. 
 
 ' Brave, glorious girl ! ' he cried. ' But to 
 
 think of her — alone alone out there, while I 
 
 oh what a poor weak fool I am ! Here I 
 
 am — here, looking out to the sea she is gone to 
 battle with! Oh God! oh God! I must do 
 something for her — I must — but what — what ? ' 
 
 He cast himself down upon the heather that 
 crawled from the slopes even to the road, and 
 there he lay with his head buried in agony at 
 the thought of his own impotence ; while through 
 the dark glen floated the wild, weird strain of 
 the lament, 
 
 Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy ?
 
 DAIKEEX. 81 
 
 CHAPTEE Vn. 
 
 Hamlet. How chances it they travel ? their residence, both 
 in reputation and profit, was better both ways. 
 
 JRosenc7'antz. I think their inhibition comes by the means 
 of the late innovation. 
 
 Many, wearing rapiers, are afraid of goose-quills. 
 
 What imports the nomination of this gentleman P 
 
 JIa7nlet^ 
 
 Away from the glens and the heather-clad 
 mountains, from the blue loughs and their 
 islands of arbutus, from the harp-music, and from 
 the ocean-music Avhich makes those who hear it 
 ripe for revolt ; away from the land whose life 
 is the memory of ancient deeds of nobleness ; 
 away from the land that has given birth to more 
 heroes than any nation in the world, the land 
 whose inhabitants live in thousands in squalor 
 and look out from mud windows upon the 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 DAIREEN. 
 
 most glorious scenery in the world. Away 
 from all these one must now be borne. 
 
 Upon the evening of the fomth day after 
 the chaunting of that lament by the bard 
 O'Brian from the depths of Glenmara, the good 
 steam-ship ' Cardwell Castle' was making its way 
 down Channel with a full cargo and heavy mails 
 for Madeira, St. Helena, and the Cape. It had 
 left its port but a few hours and already the 
 coast had become dim with distance. The red 
 shore way of the south-west was now so far 
 away that the level rays of sunhght which 
 swept across the water were not seen to shine 
 upon the faces of the rocks, or to show where 
 the green fields joined the brown moorland ; 
 the windmills crowning every height were not 
 seen to be in motion. 
 
 The passengers were for the most part very 
 cheerful, as passengers generally are during the 
 first couple of hours of a voyage, when only the 
 gentle ripples of the Channel lap the sides of 
 the vessel. The old voyagers, who had thought 
 it prudent to dine off a piece of sea-biscuit and 
 a glass of brandy and water, while they watched 
 with grim smiles the novices trifling with roast
 
 DAEREEy. 83 
 
 pork and apricot-dumplings, were now sitting 
 in seats they had arranged for themselves in 
 such places as they knew would be well to lee- 
 ward for the greater part of the voyage, and 
 here they smoked their cigars and read their 
 newspapers just as they would be doing every 
 day for three weeks. To them the phenomenon 
 of the lessening land was not particularly 
 interesting. The novices were endeavouring to 
 look as if they had been used to knock about 
 the sea all their hves ; they carried their tele- 
 scopes under their arms quite jauntily, and gave 
 critical glances aloft every now and again, 
 consulting their pocket compasses gravely at 
 regular intervals to convince themselves that 
 they were not being trifled with in the naviga- 
 tion of the vessel. 
 
 Then there were, of course, those who had 
 come aboard with the determination 'of learning 
 in three weeks as much seamanship as should 
 enable them to accept any post of marine 
 responsibility that they might be called upon to 
 Qll in after hfe. They handled the loose tackle 
 with a view to determining its exact utility, and 
 endeavoured to trace stray lines to their source.
 
 84 DAIREEN. 
 
 They placed the captain entirely at his ease 
 with them by asking him a number of questions 
 regarding the dangers of boiler bursting, and 
 the perils of storms ; they begged that he would 
 let them know if there was any truth in the 
 report whicli had reached them to the effect 
 that the Atlantic was a very stormy place ; and 
 they left him with the entreaty that in case of 
 any danger arising suddenly he would at once 
 communicate with them ; they then went down 
 to put a few casual questions to the quarter- 
 master who was at the wheel, and doubtless 
 felt that they were making most of the people 
 about them cheerful with their converse. 
 
 Then there were the young ladies who had 
 just completed their education in England and 
 were now on their way to join their relations 
 abroad. Having read in the course of their 
 studies of Enghsh hterature the poems of the 
 late Samuel Eogers, they were much amazed 
 to find that the mariners were not leaning 
 over the ship's bulwarks sighing to behold 
 the sinking of their native land, and that not 
 an individual had climbed the mast to partake 
 of the ocular banquet with indulging in which
 
 DAIREEN. 85 
 
 the poet has accredited the sailor. Towards 
 this section the glances of several male eyes 
 were turned, for most of the yoimg men had 
 roved sufficiently far to become aware of the 
 fact that the relief of the monotony of a 
 lengthened voyage is principally dependent 
 on — well, on the reheving capacities of the 
 young ladies, lately sundered from school and 
 just commencing their education in the world. 
 
 But far away from the groups that hung 
 about the stern stood a girl lookmg over the 
 side of the ship towards the west — towards 
 the sun that was almost touching the horizon. 
 She heard the laughter of the groups of girls 
 and the silly questions of the uninformed, but 
 all sounded to her like the strange voices of a 
 dream ; for as she gazed towards the west she 
 seemed to see a fair landscape of purple slopes 
 and green woods ; the dash of the ripples against 
 the ship's side came to her as the rustle of the 
 breaking ripples amongst the shells of a blue 
 lough upon whose surface a number of green 
 islets raised their heads. She saw them all — 
 every islet, with its moveless shadow beneath 
 it, and the light touching the edges of the leaves
 
 86 DAIREEN. 
 
 with red. Daireen Gerald it was who stood 
 there looking out to the sunset, but seeing in 
 the golden lands of the west the Irish land she 
 knew so well. 
 
 She remained motionless, with her eyes 
 far away and her heart still farther, until the 
 red sun had disappeared, and the delicate twi- 
 light change was slipping over the bright grey 
 water. With every change she seemed to see 
 the shifting of the hues over the heather of 
 Slieve Docas and the pulsating of the tremulous 
 red hght through the foliage of the deer 
 ground. It was only now that the tears forced 
 themselves into her eyes, for she had not wept 
 at parting with her grandfather, who had gone 
 with her from Ireland and had left her aboard 
 the steamer a few hours before ; and while her 
 tears made everything misty to her, the hght 
 laughter of the groups scattered about the 
 quarter-deck sounded in her ears. It did not 
 come harshly to her, for it seemed to come 
 from a world in which she had no part. The 
 things about her were as the things of a dream. 
 The reality in which she was living was that 
 which she saw out in the west.
 
 DAIREEX. 87 
 
 ' Come, my dear,' said a voice behind her — 
 ' Come and walk with me on the deck. I 
 fancied I had lost you, and you may guess what 
 a state I was in, after all the promises I made to 
 Mr. Gerald.' 
 
 ' I was just looking out there, and wonder- 
 ing what they were all doing at home — at the 
 foot of the dear old mountain,' said Daireen, 
 allowing herself to be led away. 
 
 ' That is what most people would call mo- 
 ping, dear,' said the lady who had come up. 
 She was a middle-aged lady with a pleasant 
 face, though her figure was hardly what a 
 scrupulous painter would choose as a model for 
 a Nausicaa. 
 
 'Perhaps I was moping, ]\Ii's. Crawford,' 
 Daireen rephed ; ' but I feel the better for it 
 now.' 
 
 ' My dear, I don't disapprove of moping now 
 and again, though as a habit it should not be 
 encouraged. I was down in my cabin, and when 
 I came on deck I couldn't understand where 
 you had disappeared to ; I asked the major, but 
 of coiurse, you know, he was quite obhvious to
 
 88 DAIKEEN. 
 
 everything but the mutiny at Cawnpore through 
 being beside Doctor Campion.' 
 
 ' But you have found me. you see, Mrs. 
 Crawford.' 
 
 ' Yes, thanks to Mr. Glaston ; he knew 
 where you had gone : he had been watcliing 
 you.' Daireen felt her face turning red as she 
 thought of this Mr. Glaston, whoever he was, 
 with his eyes fixed upon her movements. ' You 
 don't know Mr. Glaston, Daireen ? — I shall call 
 you Daireen of course, though we have only 
 known each other a couple of hours,' con- 
 tinued the lady. ' No, of course you don't. 
 Never mind, I'll show him to you.' For the 
 promise of this treat Daireen did not express her 
 gratitude. She had come to think the most 
 unfavourable things regarding this Mr. Glaston. 
 Mrs. Crawford, however, did not seem to expect 
 an acknowledgment. Her chat ran on as 
 briskly as ever. ' I shall point him out to you, 
 but on no account look near him for some time 
 — young men are so conceited, you know.' 
 
 Daireen had heard this peculiarity ascribed 
 to the race before, and so when her guide, as they 
 walked towards the stern of the vessel, indicated
 
 DAIREEX. 89. 
 
 to her that a young man sitting in a deck-chair 
 smoking a cigar was Mr. Glaston, she certainly 
 did not do anything that might possibly increase 
 in Mr. Glaston this dangerous tendency which 
 Mrs. Crawford had assigned to young men 
 generally. 
 
 'What do you think of him, my dear?' 
 asked Mrs. Crawford when they had strolled up 
 the deck once more. 
 
 ' Of whom ? ' enquired Daireen. 
 
 ' Good gracious,' cried the lady, ' are your 
 thoughts still straying.^ Why, I mean Mr. 
 Glaston to be sure. What do you think of 
 him?' 
 . ' I didn't look at him,' the girl answered. 
 
 Mrs. Crawford searched the fair face beside 
 her to find out if its expression agreed with her 
 words, and the scrutiny being satisfactory she 
 gave a little laugh. ' How do you ever mean to 
 know what he is like if you don't look at him?' 
 she asked. 
 
 Daireen did not stop to explain how she 
 thought it possible that contentment might exist 
 aboard the steamer even though she remained 
 in ignorance for ever of Mr. Glaston's qualities ;
 
 90 DAIREEN. 
 
 but presently she glanced along the deck, and 
 saw sitting at graceful ease upon the chair Mrs. 
 Crawford had indicated, a tall man of apparently 
 a year or two under thirty. He had black 
 hair which he had allowed to grow long 
 behind, and a black moustache which gave 
 every indication of having been subjected to the 
 most careful youthful training. His face would 
 not have been thought expressive but for his 
 eyes, and the expression that these organs gave 
 out could hardly be called anything except a 
 neutral one : they indicated nothing only that 
 nothing was meant to be indicated by them. 
 'No suggestion of passion, feeling, or even 
 thoughtfulness, did they give ; and in fact the 
 only possible result of looking at this face which 
 some people called expressive, was a feeling that 
 the man himself was calmly conscious of the 
 fact that some people were in the habit of call- 
 ing his face expressive. 
 
 ' And what do you think of him now, my 
 dear ? ' asked Mrs. Crawford after Daireen had 
 gratified her by taking that look. 
 
 ' I really don't think that I think anything,' 
 she answered with a little laugh.
 
 DAIREEN. 91 
 
 ' That is the beauty of his face,' cried Mrs. 
 Crawford. ' It sets one thinking.' 
 
 ' But that is not what I said, Mrs. 
 Crawford.' 
 
 ' You said you did not think you were 
 thinking anything, Daireen ; and that meant, 
 I know, that there was more in his face than 
 you could read at a first glance. Never mind ; 
 everyone is set thinking when one sees Mr. 
 Glaston.' 
 
 Daireen had almost become interested in this 
 Mr. Glaston, even though she could not forget 
 that he had watched her when she did not want 
 to be watched. She gave another glance towards 
 him, but with no more profitable conclusion 
 than her previous look had attained. 
 
 ' I will tell you all about him, my child,* 
 said Mrs. Crawford confidentially ; ' but first let 
 us make ourselves comfortable. Dear old 
 England, there is the last of it for us for some 
 time. Adieu, adieu, dear old country ! ' There 
 was not much sentimentality in the stout httle 
 lady's tone as she looked towards the faint fine 
 of mist far astern that marked the Enghsh 
 coast. She sat down with Daireen to the leeward
 
 92 DAIREEN. 
 
 of the deck-house where she had laid her rugs, 
 and until the tea-bell rang Daireen had 
 certainly no opportunity for moping. 
 
 Mrs. Crawford told her that this Mr. Glaston 
 was a young man of such immense capacities 
 that nothing lay outside his grasp either in art 
 or science. He had not thought it necessary to 
 devote his attention to any subject in particular ; 
 but that, Mrs. Crawford thought, to be rather 
 because there existed no single subject that he 
 considered worthy of an expenditure of all his 
 energies. As things unfortunately existed, there 
 was nothing left for him but to get rid of the 
 unbounded resources of his mind by applying 
 them to a variety of subjects. He had in fact 
 written poetry — never an entire volume of 
 course, but exceedingly clever pieces that had 
 been published in his college magazine. He 
 was capable of painting a great picture if he 
 chose, though he had contented himself with 
 giving ideas to other men who had worked 
 them out through the medium of pictures. He 
 was one of the most accomplished of musicians ; 
 and if he had not yet produced an opera or 
 composed even a song, instances were on record
 
 p AIRE EN. 93 
 
 of his having performed impromptus that would 
 undoubtedly have made the fame of a professor. 
 He was the son of a Colonial Bishop, Mrs. 
 Crawford told Daireen, and though he lived in 
 England he was still dutiful enough to go out 
 to pay a month's visit to his father every year. 
 
 ' But we must not make him conceited, 
 Daireen,' said Mrs. Crawford, ending her dis- 
 course ; ' we must not, dear ; and if he should 
 look over and see us together this way, he would 
 conclude that we were talkingr of him.' 
 
 Daireen rose with her instructive companion 
 with an uneasy sense of feeling that all they 
 could by their combined efforts contribute to 
 the conceit of a young man who would, upon 
 grounds so slight, come to such a conclusion as 
 Mrs. Crawford feared he might, would be but 
 trifling. 
 
 Then the tea-bell rang, and all the novices 
 who had enjoyed the roast pork and dumplings 
 at dinner, descended to make a hearty meal of 
 buttered toast and banana jelly. The sea air 
 had given them an appetite, they declared with 
 much merriment. The chief steward, however, 
 being an experienced man, and knowing that in
 
 94 DAIEEEN. 
 
 a few hours the Bay of Biscay would be entered, 
 did not, from observing the hearty manner in 
 which the novices were eating, feel uneasy on 
 the matter of the endurance of the ship's 
 stores. He knew it would be their last meal 
 for some days at least, and he smiled grimly as 
 he laid down another plate of buttered toast, 
 and hastened off to send up some more brandy 
 and biscuits to Major Crawford and Doctor 
 Campion, whose hoarse chuckles called forth by 
 pleasing reminiscences of Cawnpore were dimly 
 heard from the deck through the cabin sky- 
 light.
 
 DAIREEX. 95 
 
 CHAPTEE Vin. 
 
 An hour of quiet shortly sliall we see ; 
 Till then in patience our proceeding be. 
 
 Well put on those shall praise your excellence 
 And set a douhle varuish on the fame 
 The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine together. 
 ... I know love is begun by time. 
 
 I know him well : he is the brooch indeed 
 And gem of all the nation. 
 
 He made confession of you, 
 And gave you such a masterly report 
 For art . . . 'twould be a sight indeed 
 If one could match you. — Hamlet. 
 
 Mrs. Crawford absolutely clung to Daireen all 
 this evening. When the whist parties were 
 formed in the cabin she brought the girl on 
 deck and instructed her in some of the matters 
 worth knowing aboard a passenger ship. 
 
 ' On no account bind yourself to any whist 
 set before you look about you : nothing could 
 be more dangerous,' she said confidentially. 
 ' Just think how terrible it would be if you
 
 96 DAIREEN. 
 
 were to join a set now, and afterwards to find 
 out that it was not the best set. You would 
 simply be ruined. Besides that, it is better to 
 stay on deck as much as possible during the 
 first day or two at sea. Now let us go over to 
 the major and Campion.' 
 
 So Daireen found herself borne onward 
 with Mrs. Crawford's arm in her own to where 
 Major Crawford and Doctor Campion were sit- 
 ting on their battered deck-chairs lighting fresh 
 cheroots from the ashes of the expiring ends. 
 
 'Don't tread on the tumblers, my dear,' 
 said the major as his wife advanced. 'And 
 how is Miss Gerald now that we have got under 
 weigh? You didn't take any of that liquid 
 they insult the Chinese Empire by calling tea, 
 aboard ship, I hope ? ' 
 
 ' Just a single cup, and very weak,' said Mrs. 
 Crawford apologetically. 
 
 ' My dear, I thought you were wiser.' 
 
 ' You will take this chair, Mrs. Crawford ? ' 
 said Doctor Campion, without making the least 
 pretence of moving, however. 
 
 'Don't think of such a thing,' cried the 
 lady's husband ; and to do Doctor Campion
 
 DAIREEX. 97 
 
 justice, he did not think of such a thing. ' Why, 
 you don't fancy these are our Junkapore days, 
 do you, when Kate came out to our bungalow 
 and the boys called her the Sylph ? It's a fact, 
 Miss Gerald ; my wife, as your father will tell 
 you, was as slim as a Hly. Ah, dear, dear ! Time, 
 they say, takes a lot away from us, but by Jingo, 
 he's liberal enough in some ways. By Jingo, 
 yes,' and the gallant old man kept shaking his 
 head and chuckhng towards his comrade, whose 
 features could be seen puckered into a grin 
 though he uttered no sound. 
 
 ' And stranger still. Miss Gerald,' said the 
 lady, ' the major was once looked upon as a 
 polite man, and politer to his wife than to 
 anybody else. Go and fetch some chairs here, 
 Campion, hke a good fellow,' she added to the 
 doctor, who rose slowly and obeyed. 
 
 ' That's how my wife takes command of the 
 entire battahon, Miss Gerald,' remarked the 
 major. ' Oh, your father will tell you all about 
 her.' 
 
 The constant reference to lier father by 
 one who was an old friend, came with a 
 cheering influence to the girl. A terrible 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 DAIREEN. 
 
 question as to what might be the result of her 
 arrival at the Cape had suggested itself to her 
 more than once since she had left Ireland ; 
 but now the major did not seem to fancy that 
 there could be any question in the matter. 
 
 When the chairs were brought, and en- 
 veloped in karosses, as the old campaigners 
 called the furs, there arose a chatter of 
 bungalows, and punkahs, and puggarees, and 
 calapashes, and curries, that was quite dehght- 
 ful to the girl's ears, especially as from time to 
 time her father's name would be mentioned in 
 connection with some elephant-trapping expe- 
 dition, or, perhaps, a mess joke. 
 
 When at last Daireen found herself alone 
 in the cabin which her grandfather had 
 managed to secure for her, she did not feel that 
 loneliness which she thought she would have 
 felt aboard this ship full of strangers without 
 sympathy for her. 
 
 She stood for a short time in the darkness, 
 looking out of her cabin port over the long 
 waters, and listening to the sound of the waves 
 hurrying away from the ship and flapping 
 against its sides, and once more she thought of
 
 DAIREEX. 99 
 
 the purple mountain and the green Irish 
 lough. Then as she moved away from the 
 port her thoughts stretched in another direction 
 — southward. Her heart was full of hope as 
 she timied in to her berth and went quietly- 
 asleep just as the first waves of the Bay of 
 Biscay were making the good steamer a little 
 uneasy, and bringing about a bitter remorse to 
 those who had made merry over the dumpHngs 
 and buttered toast. 
 
 Major Crawford was an ofiicer who had 
 served for a good many years in India, and 
 had there become acquainted with Daireen's 
 father and mother. When Mr. Gerald was 
 holding his grandchild in his arms aboard the 
 steamer saying good-bye, he was surprised by a 
 strange lady coming up to him and begging to 
 be informed if it was possible that Daireen was 
 the daughter of Colonel Gerald. Id another 
 instant Mr. Gerald was overjoyed to know that 
 Daireen would be durincp the enth'e of the 
 voyage in the company of an officer and his 
 wife who were old friends of her father, and 
 had recognised her from her hkeness to her 
 mother, whom they had also known when she 
 
 H 2
 
 100 DAIKEEX. 
 
 was little older than Daireen. Mr. Gerald left 
 the vessel \nth a inind at rest ; and Ihat his 
 belief that the girl would be looked after was 
 well-founded is already known. Dsdreen was, 
 indeed, in the hands of a lady who was noted in 
 many parts of the world for her capacities for 
 takini? charge of youn^r ladies. When she 
 was in India her position at the station was 
 very dmilar to that of immigration-agent - 
 general. Fond matrons in England, who had 
 brought their daughters year after year to 
 Homburg, Kissingen, and Nice, in the ' open * 
 season, and had yet brought them back in 
 safety — -matrons who had even sunk to the 
 low level of hydropathic hunting-grounds with- 
 out success, were accustomed to write pathetic 
 letters to Junkypore and Arradambad convey- 
 ing to Mrs, Crawford intelligence of the strange 
 fency that some of the dear girls had conceived 
 to visit those parts of the Indian Empire, and 
 begging Mrs. Crawford to give her \-aluable 
 advice with regard to the carrying out of such 
 remarkable fireaks. Never in any of these 
 cases had the majors wife failed. These 
 forlorn hopes took passage to India and found
 
 DAIREEX. 101 
 
 in her a real friend, with tact, perseverance, 
 and experience. The subalterns of the station 
 were never allowed to mope in a wretched, 
 companionless condition ; and thus Mrs. Craw- 
 ford had achieved for herself a certain fame' 
 w^hich it was her study to maintain. Having 
 herself had men-children only, she had no 
 personal interests to look after. Her boys had 
 been swathed in puggarees, spoonfed with 
 curry, and nurtured upon chutney, and liad 
 so developed into full-grown Indians ready 
 for the choicest appointments, and they had 
 succeeded very well indeed. Her husband 
 had now received a command from the War 
 Office to proceed to the Cape for the pur- 
 pose of obtaining evidence on the subject 
 of the regulation boots to be supplied to 
 troops on active foreign service ; a commission 
 upon this most important subject having been 
 ordered by a Parliamentary vote. Other 
 officers of experience had been sent to various 
 of the colonies, and much was expected to 
 result from the prosecution of their enquiries, 
 the opponents of the Government being confi- 
 dent that gussets would eventually be allowed
 
 102 DAIREEN. 
 
 to non-commissioned officers, and back straps to 
 privates. 
 
 Of course Major Crawford could not set 
 out on a mission so important without the 
 companionship of his wife. Though just at 
 the instant of Daireen's turning in the major 
 fancied he might have managed to get along 
 pretty well even if his partner had been left 
 behind him in England. He was inchned to 
 snarl in his cabin at nights when his wife 
 unfolded her plans to him and kept him awake 
 to give his opinion as to the possibihty of the 
 tastes of various young persons becoming 
 assimilated. To-night the major expressed his 
 indifference as to whether every single man 
 in the ship's company got married to every 
 single woman before the end of the voyage, or 
 whether they all went to perdition singly. He 
 concluded by wishing fervently that they would 
 disappear, married and single, by a supernatural 
 agency. 
 
 '' But think, how gratified poor Gerald 
 would be if the dear girl could think as I do on 
 this subject,' said Mrs. Crawford persistently, 
 alluding to the matter of certain amalgamation
 
 DAIREEN. 103 
 
 of tastes. At this point, however, the major 
 expressed himself in words still more vigorous 
 than he had brought to his aid before, and his 
 wife thought it prudent to get into her berth 
 without pursuing any farther the question of 
 the possible gratification of Colonel Gerald at 
 the unanimity of thought existing between his 
 daughter and Mrs. Crawford.
 
 104 DATREEJ^^. 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 How dangerous is it that this man goes loose . . . 
 He's loved of the distracted multitude, 
 Who like not in their judgement hut their eyes : 
 And where 'tis so the offender's scourge is weigh'd, 
 But never the offence. 
 
 Look here upon this picture, and on this. 
 
 Thus has he — and many more of the same breed that I 
 know the drossy age dotes on — only got the tune of the time . . . 
 a kind of yesty collection which carries them through and 
 through the most fond and winnowed opinions ; and do but 
 blow them to their trial, the bubbles are out. — Hamlet. 
 
 The uneasy bosom of the Bay of Biscay was 
 tlirobbiDg with its customary emotion beneath 
 the good vessel when Daireen awoke the next 
 morning to the sound of creaking timbers and 
 rioting glasses. Above her on the deck the 
 tramp of a healthy passenger who wore a pedo- 
 meter and walked three miles every morning 
 before breakfast, was heard, now dilating and
 
 DAIREEN. 105 
 
 now decreasing, as lie passed over tlie cabins. 
 He had almost completed his second mile, and 
 was putting on a spurt in order to keep himself 
 up to time ; his spurt at the end of the first 
 mile had efiectually awakened all the passengers 
 beneath who had yet remained undisturbed 
 through the earlier part of his tramp. 
 
 Mrs. Crawford, looking bright and fresh 
 and good-natured, entered Daireen's cabin 
 before the girl was ready to leave it. She cer- 
 tainly seemed determined that the confidence 
 Mr. Gerald had reposed in her with regard to 
 the care of his granddaughter should not prove 
 to have been misplaced. 
 
 ' I am not going in, my dear,' she said as 
 she entered the cabin. ' I only stepped round 
 to see that you were all right this morning. 
 I knew you would be so, though Eobinson the 
 steward tells me that even the little sea there is 
 on in the bay has been quite sufficient to make 
 about a dozen vacancies at the breakfast-table. 
 People are such fools when they come aboard a 
 ship — eating boiled paste and all sorts of things, 
 and so the sea is grossly misrepresented. Did 
 that dreadfully healthy Mr. Thompson awake
 
 106 DAIREEN. 
 
 you with his tramping on deck ? Of course he 
 did f he's a dreadful man. If he goes on hke 
 this we'll have to petition the captain to lay- 
 down bark on the deck. Now I'll leave you' 
 Come aloft when you are ready ; and, by the 
 way, you must take care what dress you put 
 on — very great care.' 
 
 ' Why, I thought that aboard ship one 
 might wear anything,' said the girl. 
 
 ' Never was there a greater mistake, my child. 
 People say the same about going to the sea- 
 side : anything will do ; but you know how 
 one requires to be doubly particular there ; and 
 it's just the same in our little world aboard 
 ship.' 
 
 'You quite frighten me, Mrs. Crawford,' 
 said Daireen. ' What advice can you give me 
 on the subject ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Crawford was thoughtful. ' If you had 
 only had time to prepare for the voyage, and 
 I had been beside you, everything might have 
 been different. You must not wear anything 
 pronounced — no distinct colour : you must find 
 out something undecided — ^you understand ? '
 
 DAIREEN. 107 
 
 Daireen looked puzzled. ' I'm sorry to say 
 I don't.' 
 
 ' Oh, you have surely something of pale 
 sage — no, that is a bad tone for the first days 
 aboard — too like the complexions of most of 
 the passengers — but, chocolate-grey ? ah, that 
 should do ! have you anything in that to do for 
 a morning dress ? ' 
 
 Daireen was so extremely fortunate as to 
 be possessed of a garment of the required tone, 
 and her kind friend left her arraying herself in 
 its folds. 
 
 On going aloft Daireen found the deck 
 occupied by a select few of the passengers. The 
 healthy gentleman was just increasing his pace 
 for the final hundred yards of his morning's 
 walk, and Doctor Campion had got very near 
 the end of his second cheroot, while he sat 
 talking to a fair-haired and bronze-visaged 
 man with clear grey eyes that had such a way 
 of looking at things as caused people to fancy 
 he was making a mental calculation of the 
 cubic measure of everything ; and it was pro- 
 bably the recollection of their peculiarity that 
 made people fancy, when these eyes looked into
 
 180 DAIREEX. 
 
 a human face, that the mind of the man was 
 going through a similar calculation with re- 
 ference to the human object : one could not 
 avoid feeling that he had a number of for- 
 mula3 for calculating the intellectual value of 
 people, and that when he looked at a person he 
 was thinking which formula should be em- 
 ployed for arriviug at a conclusion regarding 
 that person's mental capacity. 
 
 Mrs. Crawford was chatting with the doctor 
 and his companion, but on Daireen's appearing, 
 she went over to her. 
 
 ' Perfect, my child,' she said in a whisper — 
 ' the tone of the dress, I mean ; it will work 
 wonders.' 
 
 While Daireen was reflecting upon the 
 possibility of a suspension of the laws of nature 
 being the result of the appearance of the clioco- 
 late-toned dress, she was led towards the doctor, 
 who immediately went through a fiction of 
 rising from his seat as she approached ; and one 
 would really have' fancied that he intended 
 getting upon his feet, and was only restrained 
 at the last moment by a remonstrance of the 
 girl's. Daireen acknoAvledged his courtesy.
 
 DAIREEX. 109 
 
 though it was only imaginary, and she was con- 
 scious that his companion had really risen. 
 
 'You haven't made the acquaintance of 
 Miss Gerald, ^Jr. Harwood ? ' said Mrs. Craw- 
 ford. 
 
 ' I have not had the honour,' said the man. 
 
 'Let me present you, Daireen. Mr. Har- 
 wood — Miss Gerald. Xow take great care what 
 you say to this gentleman, Daireen ; he is a 
 dangerous man — the most dangerous that any- 
 one could meet. He is a detective, dear, and 
 the worst of all — a hterary detective ; the 
 " special" of the " Dominant Trumpeter." ' 
 
 Daireen had looked into the man's face 
 while she was being presented to him, and she 
 knew it was the face of a man who had seen the 
 people of more than one nation. 
 
 ' This is not yoirr first voyage. Miss Gerald, 
 or you would not be on deck so early ? ' he 
 said. 
 
 ' It is certainly not,' she rephed. ' I was 
 born in India, so that my first voyage was to 
 England ; then I have crossed the Irish Channel 
 frequently, going to" school and returning for the 
 holidays ; and I have also had some long voyages
 
 110 DAIREEN. 
 
 on Lough Suangorin,' she added with a Httle 
 smile, for she did not think that her companion 
 would be likely to have heard of the existence 
 of the Irish fjord. 
 
 ' Suangorm ? then you have had some of 
 the most picturesque voyages one can make in 
 the course of a day in this world,' he said. 
 ' Lough Suangorm is the most wonderful Qord 
 in the world, let me tell you.' 
 
 ' Then you know it,' she cried with a good 
 deal of surprise. ' You must know the dear 
 old lough or you would not talk so.' She did 
 not seem to think that his assertion should 
 imply that he had seen a good many other jQords 
 also. 
 
 ' I think I may say I know it. Yes, from 
 those fine headlands that the Atlantic beats 
 against, to where the purple slope of that great 
 hill meets the Httle road.' 
 
 'You know the hill — old Slieve Docas? 
 How strange ! I live just at the foot.' 
 
 ' I have a sketch of a mansion, taken just 
 there,' he said laughing. ' It is of a dark brown 
 exterior.' 
 
 « Exactly.'
 
 DAIREE]^. Ill 
 
 'It looks towards the sea.' 
 
 ' It does indeed.' 
 
 ' It is exceedingly picturesque.' 
 
 ' Pictiu-esque ? ' 
 
 ' Well, yes ; the house I allude to is very 
 much so. If I recollect aright, the one window 
 of the wall was not glazed, and the smoke cer- 
 tainly found its way out through a hole in the 
 roof.' 
 
 ' Oh, that is too bad,' said Daireen. ' I had 
 no idea that the peculiarities of my country 
 people would be known so far away. Please 
 don't say anything about that sketch to the 
 passengers aboard.' 
 
 ' I shall never be tempted to allude, even by 
 the " pronouncing of some doubtful phrase," to 
 the — the — peculiarities of your country people, 
 Miss Gerald,' he answered. ' It is a lovely 
 country, and contains the most hospitable 
 people in the world ; but their talent does not 
 develop itself architecturally. Ah ! there is 
 the second bell. I hope you have an appetite.' 
 
 ' Have you been guarded enough in your 
 conversation, Daireen ? ' said Mrs. Crawford, 
 coming up with the doctor, whose rising at the
 
 112 DAIREEX. 
 
 summons of the breakfast-bell was by no means 
 a fiction. 
 
 ' The secrets of the Home Rule Confedera- 
 tion are safe in the keeping of Miss Gerald/ 
 said Mr. Harwood, with a smile which anyone 
 could see was simply the result of his satisfaction 
 at having produced a well-turned sentence. 
 
 The breakfast-table was very thinly attended, 
 more so even than Eobinson the steward had 
 anticipated when on the previous evening he 
 had laid down that second pkte of buttered 
 toast before the novices. 
 
 Of the young ladies only three appeared at 
 the table, and their complexions were of the 
 softest amber shade - that was ever worked in 
 satin in the manufactiu-e of mock-mediceval 
 furniture. Major Crawford had just come out 
 of the steward's pantry, and he greeted Daireen 
 with all courtesy, as indeed he did the other 
 young ladies at the table, for the major was 
 gallant and gay aboard ship. 
 
 After everyone had be6n seated for about 
 ten minutes, the curtain that screened off one of 
 the cabin entrances from the saloon was moved 
 aside, and the figure of the young man to whom
 
 DAIREEX. 113 
 
 Mrs. Crawford had alluded as Mr. Glaston 
 appeared. He came slowly forward, nodding to 
 the captain and sayiog good-morning to ]\Irs. 
 Crawford, while he elevated his eyebrows in 
 recognition of Mr. Harwood, taking his seat at 
 the table. 
 
 ' You can't have an appetite coming directly 
 out of your bunk,' said the doctor. 
 
 'Indeed?' said ]\Ir. Glaston without the 
 least expression. 
 
 * Quite impossible,' said the doctor. ' You 
 should have been up an hour ago at least. Here 
 is Mr. Thompson, who has walked more than 
 three miles in the open air.' 
 
 ' Ah,' said the other, never moving his eyes 
 to see the modest smile that spread itself over 
 the features of the exemplary Mr. Thompson. 
 ' Ah, I heard some one who seemed to be going 
 in for that irrepressible thousand miles in a 
 thousand hours. Yes, bring me a pear and a 
 grape.' The last sentence he addressed to the 
 waiter, who, having been drilled by the steward 
 on the subject of Mr. Glaston's tastes, did not 
 show any astonishment at being asked for fruit 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 DAIREEN. 
 
 instead of fish, but hastened off to procure the 
 grape and the pear. 
 
 While Mr. Glaston was waiting he glanced 
 across the table, and gave a visible start as 
 his eyes rested upon one of the young ladies — 
 a pleasant-looking girl wearing a pink dress and 
 having a blue ribbon in her hair. Mr. Glaston 
 gave a little shudder and then turned away. 
 
 ' That face — ah, where have I beheld it ? ' 
 muttered Mr. Harwood to the doctor. 
 
 ' Dam puppy ! ' said the doctor. 
 
 Then the plate and fruit were laid before Mr. 
 Glaston, who said quickly, ' Take them away.' 
 The bewildered waiter looked towards his 
 chief and obeyed, so that Mr. Glaston remained 
 with an empty plate. Eobinson became uneasy. 
 
 'Can I get you anything, sir? — we have 
 three peaches aboard and a pine-apple ? ' he 
 murmured. 
 
 ' Can't touch anything now, Eobinson,' Mr. 
 Glaston answered. 
 
 ' The doctor is right,' said Mrs. Crawford. 
 ' You have no appetite, Mr. Glaston.' 
 
 ' No,' he rephed ; ' not now^ and he gave the 
 least glance towards the girl in pink, who began
 
 DAIREEX. 115 
 
 to feel that all her school cbeams of going forth 
 into the Tvorlcl of men to conquer and overcome 
 were being realised beyond her wildest anticipa- 
 tions. 
 
 Then there was a pause at the table, which 
 the good major broke by suddenly enquiring 
 something of the captain. Mr. Glaston, how- 
 ever, sat silent, and somewhat sad apparently, 
 until the breakfast was over. 
 
 Daireen went into her cabin for a book and 
 remained arranging some volumes on the Httle 
 shelf for a few minutes. Mr. Glaston was on 
 deck when slie ascended, and he was encrasred 
 in a very serious conversation with ]yj's. Craw- 
 ford. 
 
 ' Something must be done. Surely she has 
 a guardian aboard who is not so utterly lost to 
 everything of truth and right as to allow that 
 to go on unchecked.' 
 
 These words Daireen could make out as she 
 passed the young man and the major's wife, 
 and the girl began to fear that something terri- 
 ble was about to happen. But Mr. Harwood, 
 who was standing above the major's chair, 
 hastened forward as she appeared. 
 
 I 2
 
 116 DAIREEN. 
 
 ' Why, Major Crawford lias been telling me 
 that jonr father is Colonel Gerald/ he said. 
 'Mrs. Crawford never mentioned that fact, 
 thinking that I should be able to guess it for 
 myself.' 
 
 ' Did you know papa ? ' Daireen asked. 
 
 ' I met him several times when I was out 
 about the Baroda affair,' said the ' special.* 
 ' And as you are his daughter, I suppose it will 
 interest you to know that he has been selected 
 as the first governor of the Castaways.' 
 
 Daireen looked puzzled. ' The Cast- 
 aways ? ' she said. 
 
 'Yes, Miss Gerald; the lovely Castaway 
 Islands which, you know, have just been 
 annexed by England. Colonel Gerald has 
 been chosen by the Colonial Secretary as- 
 the first governor.' 
 
 • But I heard nothing of this,' said Daireen^ 
 a little astonished to receive such information 
 in the Bay of Biscay. 
 
 ' How could you hear anything of it ? No- 
 one outside the Cabinet has the least idea of 
 it.' 
 
 ' And you ' said the girl doubtfully.
 
 DAIKEEX. 117 
 
 ' Ah, my dear Miss Gerald, the resources of 
 information possessed by the " Dominant Trum- 
 peter " are as unlimited as they are trustworthy. 
 You may depend upon what I tell you. It is 
 not generally known that I am now bound for 
 the Castaway group, to make the British public 
 aware of the extent of the treasure they have 
 acquired in these sunny isles. But I under- 
 stood that Colonel Gerald was on his way from 
 Madras ? ' 
 
 Daireen explained how her father came to 
 be at the Cape, and Mr. Harwood gave her a 
 few cheering words regarding his sickness. 
 She was greatly disappointed when their con- 
 versation was interrupted by Mrs. Crawford. 
 
 ' The poor fellow ! ' she said — ' Mr. Glaston 
 I mean. I have induced him to go dowm and 
 eat some grapes and a pear.' 
 
 ' Why couldn't he take them at breakfast 
 and not betray his idiocy ? ' said ]\ir. Har- 
 wood. 
 
 ' Mr. Harwood, you have no sympathy for 
 sufferers from sensitiveness,' rephed the lady. 
 ' Poor Mr. Glaston ! he had an excellent appe- 
 tite, but he found it impossible to touch any-
 
 118 DAIREEi^. 
 
 thing the instant he saw that fearful pink dress 
 with the blue ribbon hanging over it.' 
 
 ' Poor fellow ! ' said Mr. Harwood. 
 
 ' Dam puppy ! ' said the doctor. 
 
 ' Campion ! ' cried Mrs. Crawford severely. 
 
 'A thousand pardons! my dear Miss 
 Gerald,' said the transgressor. ' But what 
 can a man say when he hears of such pup- 
 pyism? This is my third voyage with that 
 young man, and he has been developing 
 into the full-grown puppy with the greatest 
 rapidity.' 
 
 ' You have no line feeling. Campion,' said 
 Mrs. Crawford. ' You have got no sympathy 
 for those who are artistically sensitive. But 
 hush ! here is the offending person herself, and 
 with such a hat ! Now admit that to look at 
 her sends a cold shudder through you.' 
 
 'I think her a devlish pretty httle thing, 
 by gad,' said the doctor. 
 
 The young lady with the pink dress and the 
 blue ribbon appeared, wearing the additional 
 horror of a hat lined with yellow and encir- 
 cled with mighty flowers. 
 
 ' Something must be done to suppress her,'
 
 DAIREEX. 119 
 
 said Mrs. Crawford decisively. ' Surely such 
 people must have a better side to their natures 
 that one may appeal to.! 
 
 ' I doubt it, Mrs. Crawford,' said Mr. Har- 
 wood, with only the least tinge of sarcasm in 
 his voice. ' I admit that one might not have 
 been in utter despair though the dress was 
 rather aggressive, but I cannot see anything 
 but depravity in that hat with those floral 
 splendours.' 
 
 ' But what is to be done ? ' said the lady. 
 'Mr. Glaston would, no doubt, advocate 
 making a Jonah of that young person for 
 the sake of saving the rest of the ship's com- 
 pany. But, however just that might be, I 
 do not suppose it would be considered strictly 
 legal.' 
 
 ' Many acts of justice are done that are not 
 legal,' replied Harwood gravely. ' From a 
 legal standpoint Cain was no murderer — his 
 accuser being witness and also judge. He 
 would leave the court without a stain on 
 his character now-a-days. Meantime, major, 
 suppose we have a smoke on the bridge.'
 
 120 DAIREEN. 
 
 ' He fancies he has said something clever,* 
 remarked Mrs. Crawford when he had walked 
 away ; and it must be confessed that Mr. Har- 
 wood had a suspicion to that effect.
 
 DAIREEX. 121 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 His will is not his own ; 
 For he himself is subject to his birth : 
 He may not, as unvalued persons do, 
 Carre for himself ; for on his choice depends 
 The safety and the health of this ^vhole state, 
 And therefore must his choice be circumscribed 
 Unto the voice and yielding of that body 
 Whereof he is the head. 
 
 Osric. . . . Believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of 
 most excellent differences, of very soft society and great showing ; 
 indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card ... of gentry 
 
 Hamlet. . . . His definement suffers no perdition in 
 you. . . . But, in the verity of extolment I take him to be a 
 soul of great article. — Hamlet. 
 
 The information which Daireen had received 
 on the unimpeachable authority of the special 
 correspondent of the 'Dominant Trumpeter' 
 was somewhat puzzling to her at first ; but as 
 she reflected upon the fact that the position of 
 governor of the newly acquired Castaway 
 group must be one of importance, she could 
 not help feeluig some happiness ; only in the
 
 122 DAIREEN. 
 
 midmost heart of her joy her recollection 
 clasped a single grief — a doubt about her 
 father was still clinging to her heart. The 
 letter her grandfather had received which caused 
 her to make up her mind to set out for the 
 Cape, merely stated that Colonel Gerald had 
 been found too weak to continue the home- 
 ward voyage in the vessel that had brought 
 him from India. He had a bad attack of fever, 
 and was not allowed to be moved from where 
 he lay at the Cape. The girl thought over all 
 of this as she reflected upon what Mr. Har- 
 wood had told her, and looking over the long 
 restless waters of the Bay of Biscay from her 
 seat far astern, her eyes became very misty ; 
 the unhappy author represented by the yellow- 
 covered book which she had been reading lay 
 neglected upon her knee. But soon her brave 
 hopeful heart took courage, and she began to 
 paint in her imagination the fairest pictures of 
 the future — a future beneath the rich blue sky 
 that was alleged by the Ministers who had 
 brought about the annexation, evermore to 
 overshadow the Castaway group — a future be- 
 neath the purple shadow of the giant Sheve
 
 DAIKEE.V. 123 
 
 Docas when lier father would have discharged 
 his duties at the Castaways. 
 
 She could not even pretend to herself to be 
 reading the book she liad brought up, so that 
 Mrs. Crawford could not have been accused of 
 an interruption when she drew her chair along- 
 side the girl's, saying : 
 
 ' We must have a little chat together, now 
 that there is a chance for it. It is really 
 terrible how much time one can fritter away 
 aboard ship. I have known people take long 
 voyages for the sake of study, and yet never 
 open a single book but a novel. By the way, 
 what is this the major has been telling me 
 Harwood says about your father ? ' 
 
 Daireen repeated all that Harwood had said 
 regarding the new island colony, and begged 
 Mrs. Crawford to give an opinion as to the 
 trustworthiness of the information. 
 
 ' My dear child,' said Mrs. Crawford, ' you 
 may depend upon its truth if Harwood told it to 
 you. The " Dominant Trumpeter " sends out as 
 many arms as an octopus for news, and, like the 
 octopus too, it has the instinct of only making 
 use of what is worth anything. The Government
 
 124 DAIREEK 
 
 have been very good to George — I mean Colonel 
 Gerald — he was always George with us when 
 he was lieutenant. The Castaway governorship 
 is one of the nice things they sometimes have to 
 dispose of to the deserving. It was thought, you 
 know, that George would sell out and get his 
 brevet long ago, but what he often said to us 
 after your poor mother died convinced me that 
 he would not accept a quiet life. And so it 
 was Mr. Harwood that gave you this welcome 
 news,' she continued, adding in a thoughtful 
 tone, ' By the way, what do you think of Mr. 
 Harwood ? ' 
 
 ' I really have not thought anything about 
 him,' Daireen replied, wondering if it was in- 
 deed a necessity of life aboard ship to be able 
 at a moment's notice to give a summary of her 
 opinion as to the nature of every person she 
 might chance to meet. 
 
 ' He is a very nice man,' said Mrs. Crawford ; 
 ' only just inclined to be conceited, don't you 
 think ? This is our third voyage with him, so that 
 we know something of him. One knows more 
 of a person at the end of a week at sea than after 
 a month ashore. What can be keeping Mr.
 
 DAIREEX. 125 
 
 Glaston over his pears, I wonder ? I raeant to 
 have presented him to you before. Ah, here he 
 comes out of the companion. I asked him to 
 return to me.' 
 
 But again ]\Irs. Crawford's expectations were 
 dashed to the ground. Mr. Glaston certainly 
 did appear on deck and showed some sign in a 
 languid way of walking over to where Mrs. 
 Crawford was sitting, but unfortunately before 
 he had taken half-a-dozen steps he caught 
 sight of that terrible pink dress and the hat with 
 the jaundiced interior. He stopped short, and 
 a look of martyrdom passed over his face as 
 he turned and made his way to the bridge 
 in the opposite direction to where that horror of 
 pronounced tones sat quite unconscious of the 
 agony her appearance w^as creating in the 
 aesthetic soul of the young man. 
 
 Daireen having glanced up and seen the look 
 of dismay upon his face, and the flight of Mr. 
 Glaston, could not avoid laughing outright 
 so soon as he had disappeared. But Mrs. 
 Crawford did not laugh. On the contrary she 
 looked very grave. 
 
 ' This is terrible — terrible. Daireen,' she said.
 
 126 DAIKEEN. 
 
 'That vile hat has driven him away. I knew it 
 must.' 
 
 ' Matters are gettiug serious indeed,' said 
 tlie girl with only the least touch of mockery in 
 her voice. ' If he is not allowed to eat any- 
 thing at breakfast in sight of the dress, and 
 he is driven up to the bridge by a glimpse of the 
 hat, I am afraid that his life will not be quite 
 happy here.' 
 
 ' Happy ! my dear, you cannot conceive the 
 agonies he endures through his sensitiveness. 
 I must make the acquaintance of that young 
 person and try to bring her to see the error of 
 her ways. Oh, how fortunate you had this 
 chocolate -grey ! ' 
 
 ' I must have thought of it in a moment of 
 inspiration,' said Daireen. 
 
 'Come, you really mustn't laugh,' said the 
 elder lady reprovingly. 'It was a happy 
 thought, at any rate, and I only hope that you 
 will be able to sustain its effect by something 
 good at dinner. I must look over your trunks 
 and tell you what tone is most artistic' 
 
 Daireen began to feel rebellious. 
 
 ' My dear Mrs. Crawford, it is very kind of
 
 DAIREEX. 127 
 
 you to offer to take so much trouble ; but, you 
 see, I do not feel it to be a necessity to 
 choose the shade of my dress solely to please 
 the taste of a gentleman who may not be 
 absolutely perfect in his ideas.' 
 
 Mrs. Crawford laughed. ' Do not get angry, 
 my dear, ' she said. ' I admire your spirit, and 
 I will not attempt to control your own good 
 taste ; you will never, I am sure, sink to such a 
 depth of depravity as is manifested by that hat.' 
 
 ' Well, I think you may depend on me so 
 far,' said Daireen. 
 
 Shortly afterwards Mrs. Crawford descended 
 to arrange some matters in her cabin, and Daireen 
 had consequently an opportunity of returning to 
 her neglected author. 
 
 But before she had made much progress in 
 her study she was again interrupted, and this 
 time by Doctor Campion, who had been smoking 
 with ^Ir. Harwood on the ship's bridge. Doctor 
 Campion was a small man, with a reddish face 
 upon which a perpetual frown was resting. He 
 had a jerky way of turning his head as if it was 
 set upon a ratchet wheel only capable of shifting 
 a tooth at a time. He had been in the army
 
 128 DAIREEN. 
 
 for a good many years, and had only accepted 
 the post aboard the ' Cardwell Castle ' for the sake 
 of his health. 
 
 ' Young cub ! ' he muttered as he came up 
 to Daireen. ' Infernal young cub ! — I beg your 
 pardon, Miss Gerald, but I really must say it. 
 That fellow Glaston is getting out of all bounds' 
 Ah, it's his father's fault — his father's fault. 
 Keeps him dawdling about England without any 
 employment. Why, it would have been better 
 for him to have taken to the Church, as they call 
 it, at once, idle though the business is.' 
 
 ' Surely you have not been wearing an in- 
 artistic tie, Doctor Campion ? ' 
 
 ' Inartistic indeed ! The puppy has got so 
 much cant on his finger-ends that weak-minded 
 people think him a genius. Don't you beheve 
 it, my dear ; he's a dam puppy — excuse me, but 
 there's really no drawing it mild here.' 
 
 Daireen was amused at the doctor's vehe- 
 mence, however shocked she may have been at 
 his manner of getting rid of it. 
 
 'What on earth has happened with Mr. 
 Glaston now ? ' she asked. ' It is impossible
 
 DAIREEX. 129 
 
 that there could be another obnoxious dress 
 aboard.' 
 
 ' He hasn't given himself any airs in that 
 direction since,' said the doctor. ' But he came 
 up to the bridge where we were smoking, and 
 after he had talked for a minute with Harwood, 
 he started when he saw a boy who had been 
 sent up to clean out one of the hencoops — 
 asked if we didn't think his head marvellously 
 like Carlyle's — was amazed at our want of judg- 
 ment — went up to the boy and cross-questioned 
 him — found out that his father sells vegetables 
 to the Victoria Docks — asked if it had ever been 
 remarked before that liis head was like Carlyle's 
 — boy says quickly that if the man he means is 
 the tailor in Wapping, anj'body that says his 
 head is like that man's is a liar, and then boy 
 goes quietly down. " Wonderful ! " says our 
 genius, as he comes over to us ; '- Wonderful 
 head — exactly the same as Carlyle's, and lan- 
 guage marvellously similar — brief — earnest — 
 emphatic — full of powah ! " Then he goes on to 
 say he'll takes notes of the boy's peculiarities and 
 send them to Darwin. I couldn't stand any 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 DAIREEX. 
 
 more of that sort of thing, so I left him with 
 Harwood. Harwood can sift him.' 
 
 Daireen laughed at this new story of the 
 young man whose movements seemed to be 
 regarded with so much importance by every- 
 one aboard the steamer. She began really to 
 feel interested in this Mr. Glaston; and she 
 thought that perhaps she might as w^ell be par- 
 ticular about the tone of the dress she would 
 select for appearing in before the judicial eyes 
 of this Mr. Glaston. She relinquished the de- 
 sign she had formed in her mind while Mrs. 
 Crawford was urging on her the necessity for 
 discrimination in this respect ; she had resolved 
 to show a recklessness in her choice of a dress, 
 but now she felt that she had better take Mrs. 
 Crawford's advice, and give some care to the 
 artistic combinations of her toilette. 
 
 The result of her decision was that she 
 appeared in such studious carelessness of attire 
 that Mr. Glaston, sitting opposite to her, was 
 enabled to eat a hearty dinner utterly regardless 
 of the aggressive splendour of the imperial blue 
 dress worn by the other young lady, with a pink 
 ribbon flowing over it from her hair. This
 
 DAIREEX. 131 
 
 young lady's imagination was unequal to suggest- 
 ing a more diversified arrangement than she 
 had already shown. She thought it gave evi- 
 dence of considerable strategical resources to 
 wear that pink ribbon over the blue dress : it 
 was very nearly as effective as the blue ribbon 
 over the pink, of the morning. The appreciation 
 of contrast as an important element of power in 
 art was very strongly developed in this young 
 lady. ^ 
 
 Mrs. Crawford did not conceal the satisfac- 
 tion she felt observing the appetite of Mr. 
 Glaston ; and after dinner she took his arm as 
 he went towards the bridge. 
 
 'I am so glad you were not offended with 
 that dreadful young person's hideous colours,' 
 she said as they strolled along. 
 
 'I could hardly have believed it possible 
 that such wickedness could survive now a- days,' 
 he rephed. 'But I was, after the first few 
 minutes, quite unconscious of its enormity. My 
 dear Mrs. Crawford, your young protegee 
 appeared as a spirit of light to charm away that 
 fiend of evil. She sat before me — a poem of tones 
 — a dehcate symphony of Schumann's played 
 
 z 2
 
 132 DAIREEX. 
 
 at twilight on the brink of a mere of long reeds 
 and water-flags, with a single star shining 
 through the well-defined twigs of a solitary alder. 
 That was her idea, don't you think ? ' 
 
 ' I have no doubt of it,' the lady replied 
 after a little pause. ' But if you allow me to 
 present you to her you will have an opportunity 
 of finding^ out. Now do let me.' 
 
 ' Not this evening, Mrs. Crawford ; I do not 
 feel equal to it,' he answered. ' She has given 
 me too much to think about — too many ideas 
 to w^ork out. That was the most thoughtful 
 and pure-souled toilette I ever recollect ; but 
 there are a few points about it T do not fully 
 grasj), though I have an instinct of their mean- 
 ing. No, I want a quiet hour alone. But you 
 will do me the favour to thank the child for 
 me.' 
 
 ' I wish you would come and doit yourself,' 
 said the lady. ' But I suppose there is no use 
 attempting to force you. If you change your 
 mind, remember that we shall be here.' 
 
 She left the young man preparing a cigarette, 
 and joined Daireen and the major, who were sit- 
 ting far astern : the girl with that fiction of a
 
 DAIREEN. 133 
 
 fiction still in her hand ; her companion with a 
 cheroot that was anything but insubstantial in 
 his fingers. 
 
 ' My dear child,' whispered Mi's. Crawford, 
 ' I am so glad you took yom- own way and 
 would not allow me to choose your dress for 
 you. I could never have dreamt of anything 
 
 so perfect and yes, it is far beyond what 
 
 I could have composed.' 
 
 !Mrs. Crawford thought it better on the 
 whole not to transfer to Daireen the expression 
 of gratitude Mr. Glaston had begged to be con- 
 veyed to her. She had an uneasy consciousness 
 that such a message coming to one who was as 
 yet unacquainted with Mr. Glaston might give 
 her the impression that he was inchned to have 
 some of that unhappy conceit, with the posses- 
 sion of which Mrs. Crawford herself had 
 accredited the race generally. 
 
 'Miss Gerald is an angel in whatever dress 
 she may wear,' said the major gallantly. ' What 
 is dress, after all ? ' he asked. ' By gad, my dear, 
 the finest women I ever recollect seeing were 
 in Burmah, and all the dress they wore was the 
 merest '
 
 134 DAIREEN. 
 
 'Major, you forget yourself,' cried his wife 
 severely. 
 
 The major pulled vigorously at the end of 
 his moustache, grinning and bobbing his head 
 towards the doctor. 
 
 ' By gad, my dear, the recollection of those 
 beauties would make any fellow forget not only 
 himself but his own wife, even if she was as fine 
 a woman as yourself.' 
 
 The doctor's face relapsed into its accus- 
 tomed frown after he had given a responsive 
 grin and a baritone chuckle to the delicate 
 pleasantry of his old comrade.
 
 DAIREEN. 135 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 Look, with what courteous action 
 It waves you to a more removed ground : 
 But do not go with it. 
 
 The veiT place puts toys of desperation, 
 Without more motive, into ever^' train. 
 
 Horatio. What are they that would speak with me ? 
 Sei-vant. Sea-faring men, sir. — Hamlet. 
 
 Who does not knoAv the delightful monotony of 
 a voyage southward, broken only at the 
 intervals of anchoring beneath the brilliant 
 green slopes of Madeh-a or under "the grim 
 shadow of the cliffs of Saint Helena ? 
 
 The first week of the voyage for those who 
 are not sensitive of the uneasy motion of the 
 ship through the waves of the Bay of Biscay is 
 perhaps the most delightful, for then everyone 
 is courteous with everyone else. The pas- 
 sengers have not become friendly enough to 
 be able to quarrel satisfactorily. The young 
 ladies have got a great deal of white about
 
 136 DAIREEX. 
 
 them, and they have not begun to show that 
 jealousy of each other which the next fort- 
 night so powerfully developes. The men, too, 
 are prodigal in their distribution of cigars ; and 
 one feels in one's own heart nothing but the 
 most generous emotions, as one sits filhng a 
 meerschaum with Latakia in the delicate twi- 
 liofht of time and of thou^^ht that succeeds the 
 curried lobster and pilau chickens as prepared 
 in the galley of such ships as the ' Cardwell 
 Castle.' Certainly for a week of Sabbaths a 
 September voyage to Madeira must be looked to. 
 
 Thincrs had bei>;un to arrange themselves 
 aboard the ' Cardwell Castle.' The whist sets 
 and the deck sets had been formed. The far- 
 stretching"* arm of society had at least one finger 
 in the construction of the laws of life in this 
 Atlantic ship-town. 
 
 The 3'oung lady with the pronounced tastes 
 in colour and the large resources of imagination 
 in the arrangement of blue and pink had be- 
 come less aggressive, as she was compelled to 
 fall back upon the minor glories of her trunk, so 
 that there was no likelihood of Mr. Glaston's 
 perishing of starvation. Though very fond of
 
 PAIREEX. 137 
 
 taking-lip young ladies, Mrs. Crawford had no 
 great struggle ^Yitll her propensity so far as this 
 young lady was concerned. But as Mr. Glaston 
 had towards the evening of the third day of 
 the voyage found himself in a fit state of mind 
 to be presented to Miss Gerald, ^Irs. Crawford 
 had nothing to complain of. She knew that 
 the young man was invariably fascinating to all 
 of her sex, and she could see no reason why 
 Miss Gerald should not have at least the mo- 
 notony of the voyage relieved for her tlirough 
 the improving nature of his conversation. To 
 be sure, Mr. Harwood also possessed in his con- 
 versation many elements of improvement, but 
 then they were of a more commonplace type 
 in Mrs. Crawford's eyes, and she thought it as 
 well, now and again when he was sitting beside 
 Daireen, to make a third to their party and 
 assist in the solution of any question they might 
 be discussin£[. She rather wished that it had 
 not been in Mr. Harwood's power to give 
 Daireen that information about her father's ap- 
 pointment ; it was a sort of link of friendship 
 between liim and the girl ; but Mrs. Crawford 
 recollected her own responsibility with regard
 
 138 DAIREEN. 
 
 to Daireen too well to allow such a frail link 
 to become a bond to bind with any degree of 
 force. 
 
 She was just making a mental resolution to 
 this effect upon the day preceding their ex- 
 pected arrival at Madeira, when Mr. Harwood, 
 who had before tiffen been showing the girl 
 how to adjust a binocular glass, strolled up to 
 where the major's wife sat resolving many 
 things, reflecting upon her victories in quarter- 
 deck campaigns of the past and laying out her 
 tactics for the future. 
 
 ' This is our third voyage together, is it not, 
 Mrs. Crawford ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' Let me see,' said the lady. ' Yes, it is our 
 third. Dear, dear, how time runs past us ! ' 
 
 ' I wish it did run past us ; unfortu- 
 nately it seems to remain to work some of its 
 vengeance upon each of us. But do you think 
 we ever had a more charming voyage so far as 
 this has run, Mrs. Crawford ? ' 
 
 The lady became thoughtful. ' That was 
 a very nice trip in the P. & O.'s " Turcoman," 
 when Mr. Carpingham of the Gunners proposed 
 to Clara Walton before he landed at Aden,' she
 
 DAIREEX. 139 
 
 said. ' Curiously enough, I was thinking about 
 that very voyage just before you came up now. 
 General Walton had placed Clara in my care, 
 and it was I who presented her to young 
 Carpingham.' There was a slight glow of 
 triumph in her voice as she recalled this 
 victory of the past. 
 
 'I remember well,' said ^Ir. Harwood. 
 'How pleased everyone was, and also how — well, 
 the weather was extremely warm in the Eed Sea 
 just before he proposed. But I certainly think 
 that this voyage is likely to be quite as pleasant. 
 By the way, what a charming protegee you 
 have got this time, Mrs. Crawford.' 
 
 ' She is a dear girl indeed, and I hope that 
 she may find her father all right at the Cape. 
 Think of what she must suffer.' 
 
 Mr. Harwood glanced round and saw that 
 Mr. Glaston had strolled up to Daireen's chair. 
 ' Yes, I have no doubt that she suffers,' he said. 
 ' But she is so gentle, so natural in her thoughts 
 and in her manner, I should indeed be sorry that 
 any trouble would come to her.' He was him- 
 self speaking gently now — so gently, in fact, that 
 Mrs. Crawford drew her lips together w^ith a
 
 140 DAIREEN. 
 
 slight pressure. ' Perhaps it is because I am 
 so much older than she that she talks to me 
 naturally as she would to her father. I am old 
 enough to be her father, I suppose,' he added 
 almost mournfully. But this only made the 
 lady's lips become more compressed. She had 
 heard men talk before now of beins^ old enough 
 to be young ladies' fathers, and she could also 
 recollect instances of men who were actually 
 old enouofh to be youns^ ladies' OTandfathers 
 marrying those very young ladies. 
 
 'Yes,' said Mrs. Crawford, 'Daireen is a 
 dear natural little thing.' Into the paternal 
 potentialities of Mr. Harwood's position to- 
 wards this dear natural little thing Mrs. 
 Crawford did not think it judicious to go just 
 then. 
 
 ' She is a dear child,' he repeated. ' By the 
 way, we shall be at Funchal at noon to-morrow, 
 and we do not leave until the evening. You 
 will land, I suppose ? ' 
 
 ' I don't think I shall, I know every spot so 
 well, and those bullock slei^^hs are so tiresome. 
 I am not so young as I was when I first made 
 their acquaintance.'
 
 DAIREEX. 141 
 
 ' Oh, really, if that is your only plea, my dear 
 Mrs. Crawford, we may count on your being in 
 our party.' 
 
 ' Our party ! ' said the lady. 
 'I shculd not say that until I get your 
 consent,' said Harwood quickly. ' Miss Gerald 
 has never been at the island, you see, and she is 
 girlishly eager to go ashore. Miss Butler and 
 her mother are also landing ' — these were 
 other passengers — ' and in a weak jnoment I 
 volunteered my services as guide. Don't you 
 think you can trust me so far as to agree to be 
 one of us ? ' 
 
 ' Of course I can,' she said. ' If Daireen 
 wishes to go ashore you may depend upon my 
 keeping her company. But you will have to 
 provide a sleigh for myself.' 
 
 'You may depend upon the sleigh, Mrs. 
 Crawford ; and many thanks for your trusting to 
 my guidance. Though I sleigh you yet you 
 will trust me.' 
 
 ' Mr. Harwood, that is dreadful. I am 
 afraid that ]\Irs. Butler will need one of them 
 also.' 
 
 ' The entire sleigh service shall be impressed
 
 142 DAIEEEN. 
 
 if necessary,' said the ' special,' as he walked 
 away. 
 
 Mrs. Crawford felt that she had not done 
 anything rash. Daireen would, no doubt, be 
 dehghted with the day among the lovely heights 
 of Madeira, and if by some little thoughtfulness 
 it would be possible to hit upon a plan that 
 should give over the guidance of some of the 
 walking members of the party to Mr. Glaston, 
 surely the matter was worth pursuing. 
 
 Mr. Glaston was just at this instant looking 
 into Daireen's face as he talked to her. He 
 invariably kept his eyes fixd upon the faces of 
 the young ladies to whom he was fond of talking. 
 It did not argue any earnestness on his part, 
 Mrs. Crawford knew. He seemed now, how- 
 ever, to be a little in earnest in what he was say- 
 ing. But then Mrs. Crawford reflected that the 
 subjects upon which his discourse was most 
 impassioned were mostly those that other people 
 would call trivial, such as the effect produced 
 upon the mind of man by seeing a grape-green 
 ribbon lying upon a pale amber cushion. 
 ' Every colour has got its soul,' she once heard 
 him say ; • and though anyone can appreciate its
 
 DAIREEX. 143 
 
 meaning and the work it has to perform in "the 
 world, the subtle thoughts breathed by the tones 
 are too dehcate to be understood except by a 
 few. Colour is language of the subtlest nature, 
 and one can praise God through that medium 
 just as one can blaspheme through it.' He 
 had said this very earnestly at one time, she 
 recollected, and as she now saw Daireen lau^h 
 she thought it was not impossible that it might 
 be at some phrase of the same nature, Jhe mean- 
 ing of which her uncultm-ed ear did not at once 
 catch, that Daireen had laughed. Daireen, 
 at any rate, did laugh in spite of his earnestness 
 of visage. 
 
 In a few moments Mr. Glaston came over 
 to Mrs. - Crawford, and now his face wore an 
 expression of sadness rather than of any other 
 emotion. 
 
 ' My dear Mrs. Crawford, you sm^ely cannot 
 intend to give your consent to that child's 
 going ashore to-morrow. She tells me that 
 that newspaper fellow has drawn her into a 
 promise to land with a party — actually a 
 party — and go round the place like a Cook's 
 excursion.'
 
 144 DAIREEX. 
 
 ' ' Oh, I hope we shall not be like that, Mr. 
 Glaston,' said Mrs. Crawford. 
 
 ' But you have not given your consent ? ' 
 
 ' If Daireen ^vould enjoy it 1 do not see 
 how I could avoid. Mr. Harwood was talking 
 to me just now. He seems to think she will 
 enjoy herself, as she has never seen the island 
 before. Will you not be one of our party ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, Mrs. Crawford, if you have got the 
 least regard for me, do not say that word 
 party ; it means everything that is popular ; 
 it suggests unntterable horrors to me. No 
 subsequent pleasure could balance the agony 
 I should endure going ashore. Will you not 
 try and induce that child to give up the idea ? 
 Tell her what dreadful taste it would be to 
 join a party — that it would most certainly de- 
 stroy her perceptions of beauty for months to 
 come.' 
 
 ' I am very sorry I promised Mr. Harwood,' 
 said the lady ; ' if going ashore would do all of 
 this it would certainly be better for Daireen to 
 remain aboard. But they will be taking in 
 coals here,' she added, as the sudden thought 
 struck her.
 
 DAIREEX. 145 
 
 ' She can shut herself in her cabin and 
 neither see nor hear anything offensive. Who 
 but a newspaper man would think of suggest- 
 ing to cultured people the possibility of enjoy- 
 ment in a party ? ' 
 
 But the newspaper man had strolled up to 
 the place beside Daireen which the aesthetic 
 man had vacated. He knew somethincr of the 
 art of strategical defence, this newspaper man, 
 and he was well aware that as he had got the 
 promise of the major's wife, all the arguments 
 that might be advanced by anyone else would 
 not cause him to be defrauded of the happi- 
 ness of being by this girl's side in one of the 
 loveliest spots of the world. 
 
 ' I will find out what Daireen thinks,' said 
 Mrs. Crawford, in reply to Mr. Glaston ; and 
 just then she turned and saw the newspaper 
 man beside the girl. 
 
 ' Xever mind him,' said Mr. Glaston ; ' tell 
 the poor child that it is impossible for her to go.' 
 
 ' I really cannot break my promise,' rephed 
 the lady. ' We must be resigned, it will only 
 be for a few hours.' 
 
 ' This is the saddest thing I ever knew,' 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 DAIREEX. 
 
 said Mr. Glaston. ' She will lose all the ideas 
 she was getting — all through being of a party. 
 Good heavens, a party ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Crawford could see that Mr. Glaston 
 was annoyed at the presence of Harwood by 
 the side of the girl, and she smiled, for she was 
 too old a tactician not to be well aware of the 
 value of a skeleton enemy. 
 
 ' How kind of you to say you would not 
 mind my going ashore,' said Daireen, walking 
 tip to her. 'We shall enjoy ourselves I am 
 sure, and Mr. Harwood knows every spot to 
 take us to. I was afraid that Mr. Glaston 
 might be talking to you as he was to me.' 
 
 ' Yes, he spoke to me, but of course, my 
 dear, if you think you would like to go ashore 
 I shall not say anything but that I will be 
 happy to take care of you.' 
 
 ' You are all that is good,' said Mr. Har- 
 wood. This was very pretty the lady thought 
 — very pretty indeed; but at the same time 
 she was making up her mind that if the gentle- 
 man before her had conceived it probable that 
 he should be left to exhibit any of the wonders 
 of the island scenery to the girl, separate from 
 the companionship of the girl's temporary guar-
 
 DAIREEX. 147 
 
 clian, lie would certainly find ont that he had 
 reckoned without due regard to other contin- 
 gencies. 
 
 Sadness was the only expression visible upon 
 the face of Mr. Glaston for the remainder 
 of this day ; l^ut upon the following morning 
 this aspect had charged to one of contempt 
 as he heard nearly all the cabin's company 
 talking with expectancy of the joys of a few 
 hours ashore. It was a great disappointment 
 to him to observe the brightening oT the face 
 of Daireen Gerald, as Mr. Harwood came to 
 tell her that the land was in sight. 
 
 Daireen's face, however, did brighten. She 
 went up to the ship's bridge and Mr. Harwood, 
 laying one hand upon her shoulder, pointed 
 out with the other where upon the horizon lay 
 a long low grey cloud. Mrs. Crawford observ- 
 ing his action, and being well aware that the 
 girl's range of vision was not increased in the 
 smallest degree by the touch of his fingers 
 upon her shoulder, made a resolution that she 
 herself would be the first to show Daireen the 
 earliest \'iew of Saint Helena when they would 
 be approaching that island.
 
 148 D AIRE EX. 
 
 But there lay that group of cloud, and 
 onward the good steamer sped. In the course 
 of an hour the formless mass had assumed a 
 well-defined outline against tlie soft blue sky. 
 Then a lovely white bird came about the ship 
 from the distance like a spirit from those Fortu- 
 nate Islands. In a short time a gleam of sun- 
 shine was seen reflected from the flat surface of 
 a cliff, and then the dark chasms upon the face 
 of each of the island-rocks of the Dezertas could 
 be seen. But when these were passed the 
 long island of Madeira appeared grey and mas- 
 sive, and with a white cloud clinging about its 
 highest ridges. Onward still, and the thin 
 white thread of foam encircling the rocks was 
 perceived. Then the outline of the cliffs stood 
 defined against the fainter background of the 
 island; but still all was grey and colourless. 
 Not for long, however, for the sunlight smote 
 the clouds and broke their grey masses, and 
 then fell around the ridges, showing the green 
 heights of vines and slopes of sugar-canes. 
 But it was not until the roll of the waves 
 against the cliff-faces was heard that the cloud- 
 veil was lifted and all the glad green beauty of
 
 DAIREEX. 149 
 
 the slope flashed up to the blue sky, and, 
 thrilled all those who stood on the deck of 
 the vessel. ' ^ r 
 
 Along this lovely coast the vessel moved- 
 through the sparkling green ripples. Xot the 
 faintest white fleck of cloud was now in the sky, 
 and the sunlight falling downwards upon the 
 island, brought out every brown rock of the 
 coast in bold rehef aorainst the brilhant ^een 
 of the slope. So close to the shore the vessel 
 passed, the nearer cliffs appeared to glide 
 away as the land in their shade was disclosed, 
 and this effect of soft motion was entrancing 
 to all who experienced it. Then the low 
 headland with the island-rock crowned yd\h 
 a small pillared building was reached and 
 passed, and the lovely bay of Funchal came 
 in view. 
 
 Daireen, who had lived among the sombre 
 magnificence of the Irish scenery, felt this soft 
 dazzling gi'een as sometliing marvellously strange 
 and unexpected. Had not Mr. Glaston des- 
 cended to his cabin at the earliest expression of 
 delight that was forced from the lips of some 
 young lady on the deck, he would have been
 
 150 DAIREEX. 
 
 still more disappointed with Daireen, for her 
 face was shining with happiness. But Mr. Har- 
 wood found more pleasure in watching her face 
 than he did in gazing at the long crescent slope 
 of the bay, and at the white houses that peeped 
 from amongst the vines, or at the high convent 
 of the hill. He did not speak a word to the 
 girl, but only watched her as she drank in 
 everything of beauty that passed before her. 
 
 Then the Loo rock at the farther point of 
 the bay was neared, and as the engine slowed, 
 the head of the steamer was brought round 
 towards the white town of Funchal, spread all 
 about the beach where the huge rollers were 
 breaking. The tinkle of the engine-room tele- 
 graph brought a wonderful silence over every- 
 thing as the propeller ceased. The voice of 
 the captain giving orders about the lead line 
 was heard distinctly, and the passengers felt 
 inclined to speak in whispers. Suddenly with 
 a harsh roar the great chain cable rushes out 
 and the anchor drops into the water. 
 
 ' This is the first stage of our voyage,' said 
 Mr. Harwood. ' Now, while I select a boat, 
 will you kindly get ready for landing ? Oh,
 
 DAIREEX. 151 
 
 Mrs. Crawford, you will be with us at once, I 
 suppose.' 
 
 ' Without the loss of a moment,' said the 
 lady, going down. to the cabins with Daireen. 
 
 The various island authorities pushed off 
 from the shore in their boats, sitting under 
 canvas awnings and looking unpleasantly like 
 banditti. Doctor Campion answered their kind 
 enquiries regarding the health of the passengers, 
 for nothing could exceed the attentive courtesy 
 shown by the government in this respect. 
 
 Then a young Scotchman, who had resolved 
 to emulate Mr. Harwood's example in taking a 
 party ashore, began making a bargain by signs 
 with one of the boatmen, while his friends 
 stood around. The major and tlie doctor 
 having plotted together to go up to pay a visit 
 to Neil's Hotel, pushed off in a government boat 
 without acquainting anyone with iheir move- 
 ments. But long before the Scotchman had 
 succeeded in reducing the prohibitory sum 
 named by the man with whom he was treating 
 for the transit of the party ashore, Mr. Harwood 
 had a boat waiting at the rail for his friends, 
 and Mrs. Butler and her daughter were in act
 
 152 DAIREEX. 
 
 to descend, cliatting with the ' special ' who was 
 to be their guide. Another party had already- 
 left for the shore, the young lady w^ho had 
 ■worn the blue and pink appearing in a bonnet 
 surrounded with resplendent flowers and beads. 
 But before the smiles of Mrs. Butler and Har- 
 Avood had passed away, Mrs. Crawford and 
 Daireen had come on deck again, the former 
 with many apologies for her delay. 
 
 Mr. Harwood ran down the sloping rail to 
 assist the ladies into the boat that rose and fell 
 with every throb of the waves against the ship's 
 side. Mrs. Crawford followed him and was 
 safely stowed in a place in the stern. Then 
 came Mrs. Butler and her daughter, and while 
 Mr. Harwood was handing them off the last 
 step Daireen began to descend. But she had 
 not got further down than to where a young 
 sailor was kneelincf to shift the line of one of 
 the fruit boats, when she stopped suddenly 
 with a great start that almost forced a cry from 
 her. 
 
 ' For God's sake go on — give no sign if you 
 don't wish to make me wretched,' said the sailor 
 in a whisper.
 
 DAIREEX. 153 
 
 ' Come, Miss Gerald, we are waiting,' cried 
 Harwood up the long rail. 
 
 Daireen remained irresolute for a moment, 
 then walked slowly down, and allowed herself 
 to be handed into the boat. 
 
 ' Surely you are not timid, Miss Gerald,' 
 said Harwood as the boat pushed off. 
 
 ' Timid ? ' said Daireen mechanically. 
 
 ' Yes, your hand was really trembling as I 
 helped you down.' 
 
 ' No, no, I am not — not timid, only — I fear 
 I shall not be very good company to-day ; I 
 feel — ' she looked back to the steamer and did 
 not finish her sentence. 
 
 Mr. Harwood glanced at her for a moment, 
 thinking if it really could be possible that she 
 was regretting the absence of Mr. Glaston. 
 Mrs. Crawford also looked at her and came to 
 the conclusion that, at the last moment, the girl 
 was recalHng the aesthetic instructions of the 
 young man who was doubtless sitting lonely in 
 his cabin while she was bent on enjoying herself 
 with a ' party.' 
 
 But Daireen was only thinkinf]^ how it was 
 she had refrained from crying out when she
 
 154 DAIREEN. 
 
 saw the face of that sailor on the rail, and when 
 she heard his voice ; and it must be confessed 
 that it was rather singular, taking into account 
 the fact that she had recognised in the features 
 and voice of that sailor the features and voice 
 of Standish MacDermot.
 
 BAIREEX. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Your viatation shall receive such thanks 
 As fits . . . remembrance. 
 
 . . . Thus do we of wisdom and of reach, 
 With windlasses and with assays of bias, 
 By indirections find directions out. 
 
 More matter with less art. — Hamlef. 
 
 The thill Avliite silk tliread of a moon was 
 hanging in the blue twilight over the darkened 
 western slope of the island, and almost within 
 the horns of its crescent a planet was burning 
 without the least tremulous motion. The lights 
 of the town were glimmering over the waters, 
 and the stranofe, wildlv musical cries of the 
 bullock-drivers were borne faintly out to the 
 steamer, minorlinfj with the sound of the bell of 
 Saint Mary's on the Mount. 
 
 The vessel had just begun to move away 
 from its anchorage, and Daireen Gerald was 
 standing on the deck far astern leaning over 
 the bulwarks looking back upon the island
 
 156 DAIREEN. 
 
 slope whose bright green had changed to twi- 
 light purple. Not of the enjoyment of the day 
 slie had spent np among the vines was the girl 
 thinking ; her memory fled back to the past 
 days spent beneath the shadow of a slope that 
 was always purple with a robe of heather cling- 
 ing to it from base to summit. 
 
 ' I hope you don't regret having taken my 
 advice about going on shore, Miss Gerald,' said 
 Mr. Harwood, w^ho had come beside her. 
 
 ' Oh, no,' she said ; ' it was all so lovely — 
 so unlike what I ever saw or imagined.' 
 
 ' It has always seemed lovely to me,' he 
 said, ' but to-day it was very lovely. I had 
 got some pleasant recollections of the island 
 before, but now tlie memories I shall retain 
 will be the happiest of my hfe.' 
 
 ' Was to day really so much pleasant er ? ' 
 asked the girl quickly. 'Then I am indeed 
 fortunate in my first visit. But you were not 
 at any part of the island that you had not seen 
 before,' she added after a moment's pause. 
 
 ' No,' he said quietly. ' But I saw all to-day 
 under a new aspect.' 
 
 ' You had not visited it in September ? Ah,
 
 DAIREEX. 157 
 
 I recollect now having heard that this was the 
 best month for Madeira. You see I am fortu- 
 nate.' 
 
 ' Yes, you are — fortunate,' he said slowly. 
 ' You are fortunate ; you are a child ; I am — a 
 man.' 
 
 Daireen ^vas quite puzzled by his tone ; it 
 was one of sadness, and she knew that he was 
 not accustomed to be sad. He had not been so 
 at any time through the day when they were 
 up among the vineyards looking down upon 
 the tiny ships in the harbour beneath them, or 
 wanderinor through the sjardens surrounding^ 
 
 coo o 
 
 the villa at which they had lunched after being 
 presented by their guide — no, he had certainly 
 not displayed any sign of sadness then. But 
 here he was now beside her watching the lights 
 of the shore twinkling into dimness, and speak- 
 ing in this way that puzzled her. 
 
 ' I don't know why, if you say you will 
 have only pleasant recollections of to-day, you 
 should speak in a tone like that,' she said. 
 
 ' No, no, you would not understand it,' he 
 replied. If she had kept silence after he had 
 spoken his previous sentence, he would have
 
 158 DAIREEX. 
 
 been tempted to say to lier what lie had on his 
 heart, but her question made hmi hold back his 
 words, for it proved to him what he told her 
 — she would not understand him. 
 
 It is probable, however, that Mrs. Crawford, 
 who by the merest accident, of course, chanced 
 to come from the cabin at this moment, would 
 have understood even the most enio-matical 
 utterance tliat might pass from his lips on the 
 subject of his future memories of the day they 
 had spent on the island ; she felt quite equal to 
 the solution of any question of psychological 
 analysis that might arise. But she contented 
 herself now by calling Daireen's attention to the 
 flashing of the phosphorescent water at the base 
 of the cliffs round which the vessel was moving, 
 and the observance of this phenomenon drew 
 the girl's thoughts away from the possibility of 
 discovering the meaning of the man's words. 
 The major and his old comrade Doctor Cam- 
 pion then came near and expressed the greatest 
 anxiety to learn how their friends had passed 
 the day. Both major and doctor were in the 
 happiest of moods. They had visited Neil's 
 Hotel they agreed in stating, and no one on the
 
 DAIREEX. 159 
 
 deck undertook to prove anything to the con- 
 trary — no one, in fiict, seemed to doubt in the 
 least the truth of what they said. 
 
 In a short time Mrs. Crawford and Daireen 
 were left alone ; not for long, however, for Mr. 
 Glaston strolled languidly up. 
 
 ' I cannot say I hope you enjoyed yourself,' 
 he said. ' I knoAv very well you did not. I 
 hope you could -not.' 
 
 Daireen laughed. ' Yoiu' hopes are mis- 
 placed, I fear, ]\Ir. Glaston,' she- answered. 
 ' We had a very happy day — had we not, Mrs. 
 Crawford ? ' 
 
 'I am afraid we had, dear.' 
 
 ' Why, Mr. Harwoodsaid distinctly to me just 
 now,' continued Daireen, ' that it was the pleas- 
 antest day he had ever had upon the island.' 
 
 ' Ah, he said so ? well, you see, he is a news- 
 paper man, and they all look at things from a 
 popular standpoint ; whatever is popular is 
 right, is their motto; while ours is, whatever is 
 popular is wrong.' 
 
 He felt himself speaking as the representa- 
 tive of a class, no doubt, when he made use of 
 the plural.
 
 160 DAIREEX. 
 
 ' Yes ; Mr. Harwood seemed even more 
 pleased than we were,' continued the girl. ' He 
 told me that the recollection of our exploration 
 to-day would be the — the — yes, the happiest of 
 his life. He did indeed,' she added almost 
 triumphantly. 
 
 ' Did he ? ' said Mr. Glaston slowly. 
 
 ' My dear child,' cried Mrs. Crawford quickly 
 interposing, 'he has got tliat way of talking. 
 He has, no doubt, said those very words to 
 every person he took ashore on his previous 
 visits. He has, I know, said them every even- 
 ing for a fortnight in the Mediterranean.' 
 
 ' Then you don't think he means anything 
 beyond a stupid compliment to us ? What a 
 wretched thing it is to be a girl, after all. 
 Never mind, I enjoyed myself beyond any 
 doubt.' 
 
 It is impossible — quite impossible, child,' 
 said the young man. 'Enjoyment with a 
 refined organisation such as yours can never be 
 anything that is not reflective — it is something 
 that cannot be shared with a number of persons. 
 It is quite impossible that you could have any 
 feelino^ in common with such a mind as this
 
 DAIREEX. 161 
 
 Mr. Harwood's or the other people who went 
 ashore. I heard nothing but expressions of 
 enjoyment, and I felt really sad to think that 
 there was not a refined soul among them all. 
 They enjoyed themselves, therefore you did 
 not.' 
 
 ' I think I can understand you,' said Mrs. 
 Crawford at once, for she feared that Dalreen 
 might attempt to question the point he insisted 
 on. Of course when the superior intellect of 
 Mr. Glaston demonstrated that they coidd not 
 have enjoyed themselves, it was evident that it 
 was their own sensations which were deceivincr 
 them. Mrs. Crawford trusted to the decision 
 of the young man's intellect more implicitly than 
 she did her own senses : just as Christopher Sly, 
 old Sly's son of Burton Heath, came to believe 
 the practical jesters. 
 
 'Should you enjoy the society and scenery 
 of a desert island better than an inhabited 
 one? ' asked the girl, somewhat rebellious at the 
 concessions of Mrs. Crawford. 
 
 ' Undoubtedly, if everything was in good 
 taste,' he answered quietly. 
 
 'That is if everything was in accordance 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 DAIREEN. 
 
 with your own taste,' came the voke of Mr, 
 Harwood, who, unseen, had rejoined the party. 
 Mr. Glaston made no reply. He had pre- 
 viously become aware of the unsatisfactory 
 results of making any answer to such men as 
 wrote for newspapers. As he had always con- 
 sidered such men outside the world of assthetics 
 in which he lived and to the inhabitants of 
 which he addressed himself, it was hardly to be 
 expected that he would put himself on a level 
 of argument with them. In fact Mr. Glaston 
 rarely consented to hold an argument with any- 
 one. If people maintained opinions different 
 from his own, it was so much the worse for those 
 people — that was all he felt. It was to a certain 
 circle of young ladies in good society that he 
 preferred addressing himself, for he knew that 
 to each individual in that circle he appeared 
 as the prophet and high priest of aesthetics. 
 His tone-poems in the college magazine, his 
 impromptus — musical aquarellen he called 
 them — performed in secret and out of hearing of 
 any earthly audience, his colour-harmonies, his 
 statuesque idealisms — all these were his priestly 
 ministrations ; while the interpretation, not
 
 DAIREEX. 163 
 
 of his own works — this he never attempted — 
 but of the works of three poets belonging to 
 what he called his school, of one painter, and 
 of one musical composer, was his prophetical 
 service. 
 
 It was obviously impossible that such a man 
 could put himself on that mental level which 
 would be implied by his action should he consent 
 to make any answer to a person Hke Mr. Har- 
 wood. But apart from these general grounds, 
 Mr. Glaston had got concrete reasons for dechning 
 to discuss any subject with this newspaperman. 
 He knew that it was Mr. Harwood who had 
 called the tone-poems of the college magazine 
 alhterative conundrums for young ladies ; that it 
 was Mr. Harwood who had termed one of the 
 colour-harmonies a study in virulent jaundice ; 
 that it was Mr. Harwood who had, after smihng 
 on being told of the aquarellen impromptus, 
 expressed a desire to hear one of these composi- 
 tions — all this Mr. Glaston knew well, and so 
 when Mr. Harwood made that remark about 
 taste Mr. Glaston did not reply. 
 
 Daireen, however, did not feel the silence 
 oppressive. She kept her eyes fixed upon that 
 
 m2
 
 1G4 DAIREEX. 
 
 thin thread of moon that was now almost touch- 
 ing the dark ridge of the island. 
 
 Harwood looked at her for a few moments, 
 and then he too leaned over the side of the ship 
 and gazed at that lovely moon and its burning 
 star. 
 
 ' How curious,' he said gently — ' how very 
 curious, is it not, that the sight of that hill and 
 that moon should bring back to me memories 
 of Lough Suangorm and Slieve Docas ? ' 
 
 The girl gave a start ' You are thinking of 
 them too ? I am so glad. It makes me so happy 
 to know that I am not the only one here who 
 knows all about Suangorm.' Suddenly another 
 thought seemed to come to her. She turned 
 her eyes away from the island and glanced down 
 the deck anxiously. 
 
 ' No,' said Mr. Harwood very gently indeed ; 
 ' you are not alone in your memories of the 
 loveliest spot of the world.' 
 
 Mrs. Crawford thought it well to interpose. 
 * My dear Daireen, you must be careful not to 
 take a chill now after all the unusual exercise 
 you have had during the day. Don't you think 
 you had better go below ? '
 
 DAIREEX. 165 
 
 ' Yes, I had much better,' said the girl 
 quickly and in a startled tone ; and she had 
 actually gone to the door of the companion 
 before she recollected that she had not said 
 good-night either to Glaston or Harwood. She 
 turned back and redeemed her neghgence, and 
 then went down with her f^ood cruardian. 
 
 ' Poor child,' thought ]\lr. Glaston, ' she fears 
 that I am hurt by her disregard of my advice 
 about going ashore with those people. Poor 
 child ! perhaps I was hard upon her ! ' 
 
 ' Poor little thing,' thought Mr. Harwood. 
 ' She begins to understand.' 
 
 'It would never do to let that sort of thincr 
 go on,' thought Mrs. Crawford, as she saw 
 that Daireen got a cup of tea before retiring. 
 Mrs. Crawford fully appreciated Mr. Harwood's 
 cleverness in reading the girl's thought and so 
 quickly adapting his speech to the requirements 
 of the moment ; but she felt her own superiority 
 of cleverness. 
 
 Each of the three was a careful and ex- 
 perienced observer, but there are certain condi- 
 tional influences to be taken into account in 
 arriving at a correct conclusion as to the
 
 166 , DATREEN. 
 
 motives of speech or action of every human 
 subject under observation ; and the reason that 
 these careful analysts of motives were so utterly 
 astray in tracing to its source the remissness 
 of Miss Gerald, was probably because none of 
 the three w^as aware of the existence of an im- 
 portant factor necessary for the solution of the 
 interesting problem they had worked out so 
 airily ; this factor being the sudden appearance 
 of Standish MacDermot beside the girl in the 
 morning, and her consequent reflections upon the 
 circumstance in the evening. 
 
 But as she sat alone in her cabin, seeing 
 through the port the effect of the silver moon- 
 light upon the ridge of the hill behind which 
 the moon itself had now sunk, she was wonder- 
 ing, as she had often wondered during the day, 
 if indeed it w^as Standish whom she had seen 
 and whose voice she had heard. All had been 
 so sudden — so impossible, she thought, that the 
 sidit of him and the hearing of his voice seemed 
 to her but as the memories of a dream of her 
 home. 
 
 But now that she was alone and capable of 
 reflecting upon the matter, she felt that she had
 
 DAIREEN. 167 
 
 not been deceived. By some means the young 
 man to whom she had written her last letter in 
 Ireland was aboard the steamer. It was very 
 wonderful to the girl to reflect upon this ; but 
 then she thought if he was aboard, why should 
 she not be able to find him and ask him all 
 about himself.^
 
 168 DAIKEEX. 
 
 CHAPTER Xin. 
 
 Providence 
 Should have kept short, restrained, and out of haunt 
 This mad young man . . . 
 
 His very madness, like some ore 
 Among a mineral of metals base. 
 
 Shows itself pure. 
 
 I 
 
 Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing 
 To what I shall imfold. 
 
 It is common for the younger sort 
 To lack discretion. 
 
 Queen. . . . Whereon do you look ? 
 Hamlet. Ou him, on him ! look you, how pale he glares. 
 ... It is not madness 
 That I have uttered : bring me to the test. — Hamlet. 
 
 The question which suggested itself to 
 Daireen as to the possibihty of seeing Standish 
 aboard the steamer was not the only one that 
 occupied her thoughts. How had he come 
 aboard, and why had he come aboard, were 
 further questions whose solution puzzled her. 
 She recollected how he had told her on that 
 last day she had seer: him, while they walked
 
 DAIREEN. 169 
 
 in the garden after leaving The MacDermot in 
 that side room with the excellent specimen of 
 ancient furniture ranged with glass vessels, that 
 he was heartily tired of living among the ruins 
 of the castle, and that he had made up his mind 
 to go out into the world of work. She had then 
 begged of him to take no action of so much 
 importance until her father should have returned 
 to give him the advice he needed ; and in that 
 brief postscript which she had added to the fare- 
 well letter given into the care of the bard 
 O'Brian she had expressed her regret that this 
 counsel of hers had been rendered impracticable. 
 Was it possible, however, that Standish placed 
 so much confidence in the likelihood of valuable 
 advice being given to him by her father that 
 he had resolved to go out to the Cape and 
 speak with him on the subject face to face, she 
 thought ; but it struck her that there would be 
 something hke an inconsistency in the young 
 man's travelling six thousand miles to take an 
 opinion as to the propriety of his leaving his 
 home. 
 
 What was she to do ? She felt that she 
 must see Standish and have from his own lips
 
 170 DAIREEN. 
 
 an explanation of how he had come aboard the 
 ship ; but in that sentence he had spoken to 
 her he had entreated of her to keep silence, 
 so that she dared not seek for him under the 
 guidance of Mrs. Crawford or any of her friends 
 aboard the vessel. It would be necessary for 
 her to find him alone, and she knew that this 
 would be a difficult thing to do, situated as she 
 was. But let the worst come, she reflected that 
 it could only result in the true position of 
 Standish being known. This was really all 
 that the girl believed could possibly be the 
 result if a secret interview between herself and 
 a sailor aboard the steamer should be discovered ; 
 and, thinking of the worst consequences so 
 lightly, made her all the more anxious to 
 hasten on such an interview if she could con- 
 trive it. 
 
 She seated herself upon her little sofa and 
 tried to think by what means she could meet 
 with Standish, and yet fulfil his entreaty for 
 secresy. Her imagination, so far as inventing 
 plans was concerned, did not seem to be inex- 
 haustible. After half-an-hour's pondering over 
 the matter, no more subtle device was suggested
 
 DAIREEN. 171 
 
 to lier than going on deck and walking alone 
 towards the fore-part of the ship between the 
 deck-house and the bulwarks, where it might 
 possibly chance that Standish would be found. 
 This was her plan, and she did not presume to 
 think to herself that its intricacy was the chief 
 element of its possible success. Had she been 
 aware of the fact that Standish was at that in- 
 stant standing in the shadow of that deck-house 
 looking anxiously astern in the hope of catching 
 a glimpse of her — had she known that since the 
 steamer had left the English port he had every 
 evening stood with the same object in the same 
 place, she would have been more hopeful of her 
 simple plan succeeding. 
 
 At any rate she stole out of her cabin and 
 went up the companion and out upon the deck, 
 ^vith all the caution that a novice in the art of 
 dissem]3hng could bring to her aid. 
 
 The night was full of softness — softness of 
 grey reflected light from the waters that were 
 rippling along before the vessel — softness of air 
 that seemed saturated with the balm of odorous 
 trees growing upon the slopes of those Fortunate 
 Islands. The deck was deserted by passengers ;
 
 172 DAIKEEX. 
 
 only Major Crawford, the doctor, and the 
 special correspondent were sitting in a group 
 in their cane chairs, smoking their cheroots and 
 discussing some action of a certain colonel that 
 had not yet been fully explained, though it had 
 taken place fifteen years previously. The group 
 could not see her, she knew ; but even if they 
 had espied her and demanded an explanation, 
 she felt that slie had progressed sufficiently 
 far in the crooked ways of deception to be 
 able to lull their suspicions by her answers. 
 She could tell them that she had a head- 
 ache, or put them ofi* with some equally artful 
 excuse. 
 
 She walked gently along until she was at 
 the rear of the deck-house where the stock of 
 the mainmast was standing with all its gear. 
 She looked down the dark tunnel passage 
 between the side of the house and the bulwarks, 
 but she felt her courage fail her : she dared do 
 all that might become a woman, but the gloom 
 of that covered place, and the consciousness 
 that beyond it lay the mysterious fore-cabin 
 space, caused her to pause. What was she 
 to do ?
 
 DAIREEX. 173 
 
 Suddenly there came the sound of a low 
 voice at her ear. 
 
 ' Daireen, Daireen, why did you come here? ' 
 She started and looked around trembling, for it 
 was the voice of Standish, though she could not 
 see the form of the speaker. It was some mo- 
 ments before she found that he was under the 
 broad rail leading to the ship's bridge. 
 
 ' Then it is you, Standish, indeed? ' she said. 
 ' How on earth did you come aboard ? — Why 
 have you come ? — Are you really a sailor ? — 
 Where is The MacDermot ? — Does he know ? — 
 Why don't you shake hands with me, 
 Standish ? ' 
 
 These few questions she put to him in a 
 breath, looking between the steps of the rail. 
 
 ' Daireen, hush, for heaven's sake ! ' he said 
 anxiously. 'You don't know what you are 
 doing in coming to speak with me here — I am 
 only a sailor, and if you were seen near me it 
 would be terrible. Do go back to your cabin 
 and leave me to my wretchedness.' 
 
 ' I shall not go back,' she said resolutely. 
 ' I am your friend, Standish, and why should 
 I not speak to you for an hour if I wish ? You
 
 174 DAIREEX. 
 
 are not the quartermaster at the wheel. What 
 a start you gave me this morning ! Why did 
 you not tell me you were coming in this 
 steamer ? ' 
 
 ' I did not leave Suangorm until the next 
 morning after I heard you had gone,' he answered 
 in a whisper. ' I should have died — I should 
 indeed, Daireen, if I had remained at home 
 while you were gone away without anyone to 
 take care of you.' 
 
 'Oh, Standish, Standish, what will The 
 MacDermot say ? — What will he think ? ' 
 
 ' I don't care,' said Standish. ' I told him 
 on that day when we returned from Suanmara 
 that I would go away. I was a fool that I did 
 not make up my mind long ago. It was indeed 
 only when you left that I carried out my 
 resolution. I learned what ship you were 
 going in ; I had as much money as brought me 
 to England — I had heard of people working 
 their passage abroad ; so I found out the captain 
 of the steamer, and teUing him all about myself 
 that I could — not of course breathing your 
 name, Daireen — I begged him to allow me to 
 work my way as a sailor, and he agreed to give
 
 DAIREEX. 175 
 
 me the passage. He wanted me to become a 
 waiter in the cabin, but I couldn't do that ; I 
 didn't mind facing all the hardships that might 
 come, so long as I was near you — and — able 
 to get your father's advice. Now do go back, 
 Daireen.' 
 
 ' No one will see us,' said the girl after a 
 pause in which she reflected on the story he 
 had told her. ' But all is so strange, Standish,' 
 she continued — ' all is so unlike anything I 
 ever imagined possible. Oh, Standish, it is too 
 dreadful to think of your being a sailor — -just a 
 sailor — aboard the ship.' 
 
 ' There's nothing so very bad in it,' he 
 replied. ' I can work, thank God; and I mean 
 to work. The thought of being near you — that 
 is, near the time when I can get the advice I 
 want from your father — makes all my labour 
 seem Hght.' 
 
 ' But if I ask the captain, he will, I am sure, 
 let you become a passenger,' said the girl 
 suddenly. ' Do let me ask him, Standish. It 
 is so — so hard for you to have to work as a 
 sailor.' 
 
 ' It is no harder than I expected it would
 
 176 DAIREEN. 
 
 be,' he said ; ' I am not afraid to work hard ; and 
 I feel that I am doing something — I feel it. I 
 would be more wTetched in the cabin. Now 
 do not think of speaking to me for the rest of 
 the voyage, Daireen, only, do not forget that 
 you have a friend aboard the ship — a friend 
 who will be wiUing to die for you.' 
 
 His voice was very tremulous, and she 
 could see his tearful eyes ghstening in the grey 
 light as he put out one of his hands to her. 
 She put her own hand into it and felt his strong- 
 earnest grasp as he whispered, ' God bless you, 
 Daireen ! God bless you ! ' 
 
 ' Make it six bells, quartermaster,' came the 
 voice of the officer on watch from the bridge. 
 In fear and trembling Daireen waited until the 
 man came aft and gave the six strokes upon 
 the ship's bell that hung quite near where 
 she was standing — Standish thinking it prudent 
 to remain close in the shade of the rail. The 
 quartermaster saw her, but did not of course 
 conceive it to be within the range of his duties 
 to give any thought to the circumstance of a 
 passenger being on deck at that hour. When 
 the ofirl turned round after the bell had been
 
 DAIREEX. 177 
 
 struck, she found that Standish had disappeared. 
 All she could do was to hasten back to her 
 cabin with as much caution as it was possible 
 for her to preserve, for she could still hear the 
 hoarse tones of the major's voice coming from 
 the centre of the group far astern, who were 
 regaled with a \ery pointed chronicle of a 
 certain station in the empire of Hindustan. 
 
 Daireen reached her cabin and sat once 
 more upon her sofa, breathing a sigh of relief, 
 for she had never in her life had such a call 
 upon her courage as this to which she had just 
 responded. 
 
 Her face was flushed and hot, and her 
 hands were trembhng, so she threw open the 
 pane of the cabin port-hole and let the soft 
 breeze enter. It moved about her hair as she 
 stood there, and she seemed to feel the fingers 
 of a dear friend caressing her forehead. Then 
 she sat down once more and thought over all 
 that had happened since the morning when she 
 had gone on deck to see that grey cloud-land 
 brighten into the lovely green slope of Madeira. 
 She thought of all that Standish had told her 
 about himself, and she felt her heart overfloAv- 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 DAIREEN. 
 
 ing, as Avcre her eyes, with sympathy for him 
 who had cast aside his old hfe and was en- 
 deavourhig to enter upon the new. 
 
 As she sat there in her dreaming mood all 
 the days of the past came back to her with a 
 clearness she had never before known. All the 
 pleasant hours returned to her with even a 
 more intense happiness than she had felt at 
 first. For out of the distance of these Fortunate 
 Islands the ghosts of the blessed departed hours 
 came and moved before her, looldng into her 
 face with their own sweet pale faces ; thus she 
 passed from a waking dream into a dream of sleep 
 as she lay upon her sofa, and the ghost shapes 
 continued to float before her. The fatigue of 
 the day, the darkness of the cabin, and the 
 monotonous washing of the ripples against the 
 side of the ship had brought on her sleep before 
 she had got into her berth. 
 
 With a sudden start she awoke and sprang 
 to her feet in instantaneous consciousness, for 
 the monotony of the washing waves was 
 broken by a sound that was strange and 
 startling to her ears — the sound of something
 
 DAIREEX. 179 
 
 hard tapping at irregular intervals upon the 
 side of the ship just at her ear. 
 
 She ran over to the cabin port and looked 
 out fearfully — looked out and gave a cry of 
 terror, for beneath her — out from those grey 
 waters ther^ glanced up to her in speechless 
 agony the white face of a man — she saw it but 
 for a moment, then it seemed to be swept away 
 from her and swallowed up in the darkness of 
 tlie deep waters.
 
 180 DUREEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 . . . Rashly, 
 And praised he rashness for it. . . 
 
 . . . Up from my cahin, 
 My sea-gown scarf 'd ahout me, in the dark 
 Groped I to find out them . . . making so hold. 
 My fears forgetting manners. 
 
 Give me leave : here lies the water 5 good : here stands the 
 
 Let us know 
 Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well 
 
 . . . and that should learn us 
 There's a divinity that shapes our ends 
 Eough-hew them how we will. — Hamlet. 
 
 A SINGLE cry of terror was all that Daireen 
 littered as she fell back upon her berth. An 
 instant more and she was standing with 
 clenched lips, and hands that were untrem- 
 bling as the rigid hands of a dead person. 
 She knew what was to be done as plainly as if 
 she saw everything in a picture. She rushed 
 into the saloon and mounted the companion to 
 the deck There sat the little group astern
 
 DAIREEN. 181 
 
 just as she had seen them an hour before, only 
 that the doctor had fallen asleep under the 
 influence of one of the less pointed of the 
 major's stories. 
 
 ' God bless my soul ! ' cried the major, as 
 the girl clutched the back of his chair. 
 
 ' Good lieavens, Miss Gerald, what is the 
 matter ? ' said Harwood, leaping to his feet. 
 
 She pointed to the white wake of the ship. 
 
 ' There — there,' — she whispered — ' a man 
 — drowning — chnging to something — a wreck 
 — I saw him ! ' 
 
 ' Dear me ! dear me ! ' said the major, in a 
 tone of rehef, and with a breath of a smile. 
 
 But the special correspondent had looked 
 into the girl's face. It was his business to 
 understand the difference between dreaming 
 and waking. He was by the side of the officer 
 on watch in a moment. A few words were 
 enough to startle the officer into acquiescence 
 with the demands of the ' special.' The un- 
 wonted sound of the engine telegraph was 
 heard, its tinkle shaking the slumbers of the 
 chief engineer as etfectively as if it had been 
 the thunder of an alarum peal.
 
 182 DAIREEX. 
 
 The stopping of the engine, the blowing off 
 of the steam, and the arrival of the captain 
 upon the deck were simultaneous occurrences. 
 The officer*s reply to his chief as he hurried 
 aft did not seem to be very satisfactory, judging 
 from the manner in which it was received. 
 
 But Harwood had left the officer to explain 
 the stoppage of the vessel, and was now kneel- 
 ing by the side of the chair, back upon which 
 lay the unconscious form of Daireen, while the 
 doctor was^ forcing some brandy — all that re- 
 mained in the major's tumbler — between her 
 lips, and a young sailor — the one who had 
 been at the rail in the morning — chafed her 
 pallid hand. The major was scanning the 
 expanse of water by aid of his pilot glass, 
 and the quartermaster who had been steering 
 went to the line of the patent log to haul it in 
 — his first duty at any time on the stopping of 
 the vessel, to prevent the line — the strain being 
 taken off it — fouhng with the propeller. 
 
 When the steamer is under weigh it is the 
 work of two sailors to take in the eighty 
 fathoms of log-line, otherwise, however, the 
 line is of course quite slack ; it was thus rather
 
 DAIREEX. 183 
 
 inexplicable to the quartermaster to find much 
 more resistance to his first haul than if the 
 vessel were going full speed ahead. / 
 
 'The darned thing's fouled already,' he 
 murmured for his own satisfaction. He could 
 not take in a fathom, so great was the resist- 
 ance. 
 
 ' Hang it all, major,' said the captain, ' isn't 
 this too bad .^ Bringing the ship to like this, 
 and — ah, here they come ! All 4,he ship's 
 company will be aft in a minute.' 
 
 'Eum, my boy, very rum,' muttered the 
 sympathetic major. 
 
 ' What's the matter, captain ? ' said one 
 voice. 
 
 ' Is there any danger ? ' asked a tremulous 
 second. 
 
 ' If it's a collision or a leak, don't keep it 
 from us, sir,' came a stern contralto. For in 
 various stages of toilet incompleteness the pas- 
 sengers were crowding out of the cabin. 
 
 But before the ' luihappy master ' could 
 utter a word of reply, the sailor had touched 
 his cap and reported to the third mate : 
 
 ' Log-line fouled on wreck, sir.'
 
 184 DAIBEEN. 
 
 ' By gad ! ' shouted the major, who was 
 twisting the log-hne about, and peering into 
 the water. ' By gad, the girl was right ! The 
 line has fouled on some wreck, and there is a 
 body made fast to it.' 
 
 The captain gave just a single glance in the 
 direction indicated. 
 
 ' Stand by gig davits and lower aw^ay,' he 
 shouted to the watch who had of course come 
 aft. 
 
 The men ran to where the boat was hang- 
 ing, and loosened the lines. 
 
 ' Oh, Heaven preserve us ! they are taking 
 to the boats ! ' cried a female passenger. 
 
 'Don't be a fool, my good woman,' said 
 Mrs. Crawford tartly. The major's wife had 
 come on deck in a most marvellous costume, 
 and she was already holding a sal-volatile 
 bottle to Daireen's nose, having made a num- 
 ber of enquiries of Mr. Harwood and the 
 doctor. 
 
 All of the other passengers had crowded to 
 the ship's side and were watching the men in 
 the boat cutting at something which had been 
 reached at the end of the log-line. They
 
 DAIREEX. 185 
 
 could see the broken stump of a mast and the 
 cross-trees, but nothing further. 
 
 ' They have got it into the boat,' said the 
 major, giving the resuU of his observation 
 through the binocular. 
 
 ' For heaven's sake, ladies, go below ! ' cried 
 the captain. But no one moved. 
 
 ' If you don't want to see the ghastly corpse 
 of a drowned man gnawed by fishes for weeks 
 may be, you had better go down, ladies,' said the 
 chief oflBcer. Still no one stirred. 
 
 The major, who was an observer of nature, 
 smiled and winked sagaciously at the exaspe- 
 rated captain before he said : 
 
 ' Why should the ladies go down at all ? it's a 
 pleasant night, and begad, sir, a group of night- 
 caps like this isn't to be got together more than 
 once in a hfetime.' Before the gallant officer 
 had finished his sentence the deck was cleared 
 of women ; but, of course, the luxury of seeing a 
 dead body lifted from the boat being too great 
 to be missed, the starboard cabin ports had many 
 faces opposite them. 
 
 The doctor left Daireen to the care of Mrs. 
 Crawford, saying that she would recover con-
 
 186 DAIREEN. 
 
 sciousness in a few minutes, and he hastened 
 with a kaross to the top of the boiler, where he 
 had shouted to the men in the boat to carry 
 the body. 
 
 The companion-rail having been lowered, it 
 was an easy matter for the four men to take the 
 body on deck and to lay it upon the tiger-skin 
 before the doctor, who rubbed his hands — an 
 expression which the seaman interpreted as 
 meaning satisfaction. 
 
 ' Gently, my men, raise his head — so — throw 
 the light on his face. By George, he doesn't 
 seem to have suffered from- the oysters ; there's 
 hope for him yet.' 
 
 And tlie compassionate surgeon began cutt- 
 ing the clothing from the limbs of the body. 
 
 ' No, don't take the pieces away,' he said to 
 one of the men ; ' let them remain here. Now 
 dry his arms carefully, and we'll try and get 
 some air into his lungs, if they're not already 
 past work.' 
 
 But before the doctor had commenced his 
 operations the ship's gig had been hauled up 
 once more to the davits, and the steamer was 
 going ahead at slow speed.
 
 DAIREEN. 187 
 
 ' Keep her at slow until the dawn,' said the 
 captain to the oflficer on watch. ' And let there 
 be a good look-out ; there may be others float- 
 ing upon the wreck. Call me if the doctor 
 brings the body to life.' 
 
 The captain did not think it necessary to 
 view the body that had been snatched from the 
 deep. The captain was a compassionate man 
 and full of tender feeling ; he was exceedingly 
 glad that he had had it in his power to pick up 
 that body even with the small probability there 
 was of being able to restore hfe to its frozen 
 blood ; but he would have been much more 
 grateful to Providence had it been so willed 
 that it should have been picked up without 
 the necessity of stopping the engines of the 
 steamer for nearly a quarter of an hour. It 
 was explained to him that Miss Gerald had been 
 the first to see the face of the man upon the 
 wreck, but he could scarcely understand how it 
 was possible for her to have seen it from her 
 cabin. He was also puzzled to know how it 
 was that the log-hne had not been carried away 
 so soon as it was entangled in such a large 
 mass of wreck when the steamer was (]foin<? at
 
 188 DAIREEK 
 
 full speed. He, however, thouglit it as well to 
 resume his broken slumbers without waituig to 
 solve either of these puzzling questions. 
 
 But the chief officer who was now on watch, 
 when the deck was once more deserted — 
 Daireen having been taken down to her cabin — 
 made the attempt to account for both of these 
 occurrences. He found that the girl's cabin was 
 not far astern of the companion-rail that had been 
 lowered during the day, and he saw that, in the 
 confusion of weighing anchor in the dimness, a 
 large block with its gear which was used in the 
 hauling of the vegetable baskets aboard, had 
 been allowed to hang down the side of the ship 
 between the steps of the rail ; and upon the hook 
 of the block, almost touching the water, he 
 found some broken cordage. He knew then 
 that the hook had caught fast in the cordage of 
 the wreck as the steamer went past, and the 
 wreck had swung round until it was just 
 opposite the girl's cabin, when the cordage had 
 given way ; not, however, until some of the 
 motion of the ship had been communicated to 
 the wreck so that there was no abrupt strain 
 put on the log-hne when it had become en-
 
 DAIREEX. 189 
 
 tangled. It was all plain to the chief officer, 
 as no doubt it would have been to the 
 captain had he waited to search out the 
 matter. 
 
 So soon as the body had been brought 
 aboard the ship all the interest of the passengers 
 seemed to subside, and the doctor was allowed 
 to pursue his experiments of resuscitation with- 
 out enquiry. The cliief officer being engaged 
 at his own business of working out the question 
 of the endtirance of the log-line, and keeping a 
 careful look-out for any other portions of wreck, 
 had almost forgotten that the doctor and two of 
 the sailors were applying a series of restoratives 
 to the body of the man who had been detached 
 from the wreck. It was nearly two hours after 
 he had come on watch that one of the sailors — 
 the one who had been kneehng b}' the side of 
 Daireen — came up to the chief officer presenting 
 Doctor Campion's compliments with the infor- 
 mation that the man was breathing. 
 
 In accordance with the captain's instruc- 
 tions the chief officer knocked at the cabin 
 door and repeated the message. 
 
 ' Breath ij]g is he ? ' said the captain ratlier
 
 190 DAIREEX. 
 
 sleepily. ' Very good, Mr. Holden ; I'm glad 
 to hear it. Just call me again in case he 
 should relapse.' 
 
 The captain had hitherto in alluding to the 
 man, made use of the neuter pronoun, but now 
 that breath was restored he acknowledged his 
 right to a gender. 
 
 ' Very good, sir,' replied the officer, closing 
 the door.
 
 DAIREEX. 191 
 
 CHAPTEE Xy. 
 
 Be thou a spbit of health, or gohlin damn'd, 
 BriDg with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, 
 Be thy intents wicked or charitable. 
 Thou com'st in such a questionable shape. 
 
 AMiat may this mean 
 That thou, dead corse, agnin . . , 
 Revisit'st thus . . . ? 
 
 I hope your virtues 
 Will bring him to his wonted way again. — Hamlet. 
 
 It was the general opinion in the cabin that 
 Miss Gerald — the young lady who was in such 
 an exclusive set — had showed very doubtful 
 taste in being the first to discover the man 
 upon the wreck. Everyone had, of course, 
 heard the particulars of the matter from the 
 steward's assistants, who had in turn been in 
 communication with the watch on deck. At 
 any rate, it was felt by the ladies that it showed 
 exceedingly bad taste in ^liss Gerald to take 
 such steps as eventually led to the ladies
 
 192 DAIREEX. 
 
 appearing on deck in incomplete toilettes. 
 There was, indeed, a very pronounced feeling 
 against Miss Gerald ; several representatives 
 of the other sections of the cabin society- 
 declaring that they could not conscientiously 
 admit Miss Gerald into their intimacy. That 
 dreadful designing old woman, the major's 
 wife, might do as she pleased, they declared, 
 and so might Mrs. -Butler and her daughter, 
 who were only the near relatives of some 
 Colonial Governor, but such precedents should 
 be by no means followed, the ladies of this 
 section announced to each other. But as 
 Daireen had never hitherto found it neces- 
 sary to fall back upon any of the passengers 
 outside her own set, the resolution of the 
 others, even if it had come to her ears, would 
 not have caused her any great despondency. 
 
 The captain made some enquiries of the 
 doctor in the morning, and learned that the 
 rescued man was breathing, though still uncon- 
 scious. Mr. Harwood showed even a greater 
 anxiety to hear from Mrs. Crawford about 
 Daireen, after the terrible night she had gone 
 through, and he felt no doubt proportionately
 
 DAIREEN. 193 
 
 happy when he was told that she was now 
 sleeping, having passed some hours of feverish 
 excitement. Daireen had described to Mrs. 
 Crawford how she had seen the face looking 
 up to her from the water, and Mr. Harwood, 
 hearing this, and making a careful examina- 
 tion of the outside of the ship in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Daireen's cabin, came to the same 
 conclusion as that at which the chief officer 
 had arrived. 
 
 Mrs. Crawford tried to make Mr. Glaston 
 equally interested in her protegee^ but she was 
 scarcely successful. 
 
 ' How brave it was in the dear child, was 
 it not, Mr. Glaston ? ' she asked. ' Just ima- 
 gine her glancing casually out of the port — 
 thinking, it may be, of her father, who is per- 
 haps dying at the Cape ' — the good lady felt that 
 this bit of poetical pathos might work wonders 
 with Mr. Glaston — ' and then,' she continued, 
 ' fancy her seeing that terrible ghastly thing in 
 the water beneath her ! What must her feel- 
 iugs have been as she rushed on deck and gave 
 the alarm that caused that poor wretch to be 
 saved ! Wonderful, is it not ? ' 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 DAIREEN. 
 
 But Mr. Glaston's face was quite devoid of 
 expression on hearing this powerful narrative. 
 The introduction of the pathos even did not 
 make him wince; and there was a consider- 
 able pause before he said the few words that 
 he did. 
 
 'Poor child,' he murmured. 'Poor child. 
 It was very melodramatic — terribly melo- 
 dramatic ; but she is still young, her taste is 
 — ah — plastic. At least I hope so.' 
 
 Mrs. Crawford began to feel that, after all, 
 it was something to have gained this expres- 
 sion of hope from ]\Ir. Glaston, though her 
 warmth of feeling did undoubtedly receive a 
 chill from his manner. She did not reflect 
 that there is a certain etiquette to be observed 
 in the saving of the bodies as well as the souls 
 of people, and that the aesthetic element, in the 
 opinion of some people, should enter largely 
 into every scheme of salvation, corporeal as 
 well as spiritual. 
 
 The doctor was sitting mth Major Craw- 
 ford when the lady joined them a few minutes 
 after her conversation with Mr. Glaston, and 
 never had Mrs. Crawford fancied that her hus-
 
 DAIREEN. 195 
 
 band's old friend could talk in such an affec- 
 tionate way as he now did about the rescued 
 man. She could almost bring herself to be- 
 lieve that she saw the tears of emotion in his 
 eyes as he detailed the circumstances of the 
 man's resuscitation. The doctor felt personally 
 obhged to him for his handsome behaviour in 
 bearing such testimony to the skill of his resus- 
 citator. 
 
 When the lady spoke of the possibihties of 
 a relapse, the doctor's eyes glistened at first, 
 but under the influence of maturer thought, he 
 sighed and shook his head. No, he knew that 
 there are hmits to the generosity of even a 
 half-strangled man — a relapse was too much to 
 hope for ; but the doctor felt at that instant 
 that if this ' case ' should see its way to a re- 
 lapse, and subsequently to submit to be restored, 
 it would place itself under a lasting obligation 
 to its physician. 
 
 Siurely, thought Mrs. Crawford, when the 
 doctor talks of the stranger with such enthu- 
 siasm he will go into raptures about Daireen ; 
 so she quietly alluded to the girl's achievement. 
 But the doctor could see no reason for becom-
 
 196 DAIREEN. 
 
 ing ecstatic about Miss Gerald. Five minutes 
 with the smelling-bottle had restored her to 
 consciousness. 
 
 ' Quite a trifle — overstrung nerves, you 
 know,' he said, as he lit another cheroot. 
 
 'But think of her bravery in keeping 
 strong until she had told you all that she 
 had seen!' said the lady. 'I never heard of 
 anything so brave ! Just fancy her looking 
 out of the port — thinking of her father per- 
 haps' — the lady went on to the end of that 
 poetical sentence of hers, but it had no effect 
 upon the doctor. 
 
 ' True, very true ! ' he muttered, looking at 
 his watch. 
 
 But the major was secretly convulsed for 
 some moments after his wife had spoken her 
 choice piece of pathos, and though he did not 
 betray himself, she knew well all that was in 
 his mind, and so turned away without a further 
 word. So soon as she was out of hearing, the 
 major exchanged confidential chuckles with his 
 old comrade. 
 
 'He is not what you'd call a handsome man 
 as he hes at present, Campion,' remarked Mr.
 
 DAIREEN. 197 
 
 Harwood, strolling up later in tHe day. ' But 
 you did well not to send him to the forecastle, 
 I think : he has not been a sailor.' 
 
 'I know it, my boy,' said the doctor. ' He 
 is not a handsome man, you say, and I agree 
 with you that he is not seen to advantage just 
 now ; but I made up my mind an hour after I 
 saw him that he was not for the forecastle, or 
 even the fore-cabin.' 
 
 ' I dare say you are right,' said- Harwood. 
 ' Yes ; there is a something in his look that half 
 drowning could not kill. That was the sort of 
 thing you felt, eh ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing like it,' said the mild physician. 
 'It was this,' he took out of his pocket an 
 envelope from which he extracted a document 
 that he handed to Harwood. 
 
 It was an order for four hundred pounds, pay- 
 able by a certain bank in England, and granted 
 by the Sydney branch of the Australasian 
 Banking Company to one ^ir. Oswin Markham. 
 
 ' Ah, I see ; he is a gentleman,' said 
 Harwood, returning the order. It had evidently 
 suffered a sea-change, but it had been carefully 
 dried by the doctor.
 
 198 DAIREEN. 
 
 'Yes, he is a gentleman,' said the doctor 
 ' That is what I remarked when I found this in 
 a powder-flask in one of his pockets. Sharp 
 thing to do, to keep a paper free from damp 
 and yet to have it in a buoyant case. DevHsh 
 sharp thing ! ' 
 
 ' And the man's name is this — Oswin 
 Markham ? ' said the major. 
 
 ' No doubt about it,' said the doctor. 
 
 ' None whatever ; unless he stole the order 
 from the rightful owner and meant to get it 
 cashed at his leisure,' remarked Harwood. 
 
 'Then he must have stolen the shirt, the 
 collar, and the socks of Oswin Markham,' 
 snarled the doctor. ' All these things of his 
 are marked as plain as red silk can do it.' 
 
 ' Any man who would steal an order for 
 four hundred pounds would not hesitate about 
 a few toilet necessaries.' 
 
 ' Maybe you'll suggest to the skipper the 
 need to put him in irons as soon as he is 
 sufficiently recovered to be conscious of an 
 insult,' cried the doctor in an acrid way that 
 received a sympathetic chuckle from the major. 
 ' Young man, you've got your brain too fidl of
 
 DAIREEX. 199 
 
 fancies — a devlish deal, sir ; they do well 
 enough retailed for the readers of the " Dominant 
 Trumpeter," but sensible people don't want to 
 hear them.' 
 
 ' Then I won't force them upon you and 
 Crawford, my dear Campion,' said Harwood, 
 walking away, for he knew that upon some 
 occasions the doctor should be conciliated, and 
 in the matter of a patient every allowance 
 
 should be made for his warmth of feelinor. go 
 
 I— 
 
 long as one of his ' cases ' paid his skill the 
 compliment of surviving any danger, he spoke 
 well of the patient ; but when one behaved so 
 unhandsomely as to die, it was with the doctor 
 De mortuis nil nisi malum. Harwood knew 
 this, and so he walked away. 
 
 And now that he found himself — or rather 
 made himself, alone, he thought over all the 
 events of the previous eventful day ; but some- 
 how there did not seem to be any event worth 
 remembering that was not associated with 
 Daireen Gerald. He recollected how he had 
 watched her when they had been together among 
 the lovely gardens of the island slope. As she 
 turned her eyes seaward with an earnest, sad,
 
 200 DAIREEN. 
 
 questioning gaze, he felt that he had never seen 
 a picture so full of beauty. 
 
 The words he had spoken to her, telling her 
 that the day he had spent on the island was the 
 happiest of his life, were true indeed ; he had 
 never felt so happy ; and now as he reflected 
 upon his after- w^ords his conscience smote him 
 for having pretended to her that he was think- 
 ing of the place where he knew her thoughts 
 had carried her : he had seen from her face 
 that she was dreaming about her Irish home, 
 and he had made her feel that the recollection 
 of the lough and the mountains was upon his 
 mind also. He felt now how coarse had been 
 his deception. 
 
 He then recalled the final scene of the night, 
 when as he was trying to pursue his own course 
 of thought, and at the same time pretend to be 
 listening to the major's thrice-told tale of a 
 certain colonel's conduct at the Arradambad 
 station, the girl had appeared before them hke 
 a vision. Yes, it was altogether a remarkable 
 day even for a special correspondent. The re- 
 flection upon its events made him very thought- 
 ful during the entire of this afternoon. Nor
 
 DAIREEN. 201 
 
 was he at all disturbed by the information 
 Doctor Campion brought to him just when he 
 was going for his usual smoke upon the bridge, 
 while the shore of Palma was yet in view not 
 far astern. 
 
 ' Good fellow he is,' murmured the doctor. 
 ' Capital fellow ! opened his eyes just now when 
 I was in his cabin — recovered consciousness in 
 a moment.' 
 
 ' Ah, in a moment ? ' said Harwood dubiously. 
 ' I thought it always needed the existence of 
 some link of consciousness between the past 
 and the present to bring about a restoration 
 hke this — some familiar sight — some well-known 
 sound.' 
 
 ' And by George, you are right, my boy, this 
 time, though you are a " special," ' said the 
 doctor grinning. ' Yes, I was standing by the 
 fellow's bunk when I heard Crawford call for 
 another bottle of brandy. Eobinson got it for 
 him, and bang went the cork of course ; a faint 
 smile stole over the haggard features, my boy, 
 the glassy eyes opened full of intelligence and 
 with a mine of pleasant recollections. That fami- 
 liar sound of the drawing of the cork acted as the
 
 202 DAIREEN. 
 
 link you talk of. He saw all in a moment, and 
 tried to put out his hand to me. " My boy," 
 I said, " youVe behaved most handsomely, and 
 I'll get you a glass of brandy out of that very 
 bottle, but don't you try to speak for another 
 day." And I got him a glass from Crawford, 
 though by George, sir, Crawford grudged it ; 
 he didn't see the sentiment of the thing, sir, and 
 when I tried to explain it he said I was welcome 
 to the cork.' 
 
 ' Capital tale for an advertisement of the 
 brandy,' said Harwood. 
 
 Then the doctor with many smiles hastened 
 to spread abroad the story of the considerate 
 behaviour of his patient, and Harwood was left 
 to continue his twilight meditations alone once 
 more. He was sitting in his deck-chair on the 
 ship's bridge, and he could but dimly hear the 
 laughter and the chat of the passengers far 
 astern. He did not remain for long in this 
 dreamy mood of his, for Mrs. Crawford and 
 Daireen Gerald were seen coming up the rail, 
 and he hastened to meet them. The girl was 
 very pale but smiling, and in the soft twilight 
 she seemed very lovely.
 
 DAIREEN. 203 
 
 ' I am so glad to see you,' he said as he 
 settled a chair for her. ' I feared a great many 
 things when you did not appear to-day.' 
 
 'We must not talk too much,' said Mrs. 
 Crawford, who had not expected to find Mr. 
 Harwood alone in this place. ' I brought Miss 
 Gerald up here in order that she might not be 
 subjected to the gaze of those colonists on the 
 deck ; a little quiet is what she needs to restore 
 her completely from her shock.' 
 
 ' It was very foolish, I am afraid you think — 
 very foohsh of me to behave as I did,' said 
 Daireen with a faint httle smile. ' But I had 
 been asleep in my cabin and I — I was not so 
 strong as I should have been. The next time 
 I hope I will not be so very stupid.' 
 
 ' My dear !Miss Gerald,' said Harwood, 
 ' you behaved as a heroine. There is no woman 
 aboard the ship — ]\Irs. Crawford of course ex- 
 cepted — who would have had courage to do 
 what you did.' 
 
 ' And he — ' said the girl somewhat eagerly — 
 ' he — is he really safe ? — has he recovered ? 
 Tell me all, Mr. Harwood.' 
 
 ' No, no ! ' cried Mrs. Crawford, interposing.
 
 204 DAIREEN. 
 
 ' You must not speak a word about him. Do 
 you want to be thrown into a fresh state of 
 excitement, my dear, now that you are getting 
 on so nicely ? ' 
 
 ' But I am more excited remaining as I am 
 in doubt about that poor man. Was he a sailor, 
 Mr. Harwood ? ' 
 
 'It appears not,' said Harwood. 'The 
 doctor, however, is returning ; he will tell all 
 that is safe to be told.' 
 
 ' I really must protest,' said Mrs. Crawford. 
 
 ' Well, I will be a good girl and not ask for 
 any information whatever,' said Daireen. 
 
 But she was not destined to remain in com- 
 plete ignorance on the subject which might 
 reasonably be expected to interest her, for the 
 doctor on seeing her hastened up, and, of 
 course, Mrs. Crawford's protest was weak against 
 his judgment. 
 
 ' My dear young lady,' he cried, shaking 
 Daireen warmly by the hand. ' You are anxious 
 to know the sequel of the romance of last night, 
 I am sure ? ' 
 
 'No, no. Doctor Campion,' said Daireen 
 almost mischievously ; ' Mrs. Crawford says I
 
 DAIREEN. 205 
 
 must hear nothing, and think about nothing, 
 all this evening. Did you not say so, Mrs. 
 Crawford?' 
 
 ' My dear child. Doctor Campion is supposed 
 to know much better than myself how you 
 should be treated in your present nervous 
 condition. If he chooses to talk to you for 
 an hour or two hours about drowning wretches, 
 he may do so on his own responsibility.' 
 
 ' Drowniog wretches ! ' said the doctor. 
 ' My dear madam, you have not been told all, 
 or you would not talk in this way. He is no 
 drownincr wretch, but a gentleman ; look at 
 this — ah, I forgot it's not light enough for you 
 to see the document, but Harwood there will 
 tell you all that it contains.' 
 
 ' And what does that wonderful document 
 contain, Mr. Harwood ? ' asked Mrs. Crawford. 
 ' Tell us, please, and we shall drop the subject.' 
 
 *That document,' said Harwood with affected 
 solemnity ; 'it is a guarantee of the respecta- 
 bihty of the possessor ; it is a bank order for 
 four hundred pounds, payable to one Oswin 
 Markham, and it was, I understand, found upon 
 the person of the man who has just been re-
 
 206 DAIREEN. 
 
 suscitated througli the skill of oiir good friend 
 Doctor Campion.' 
 
 ' Now you will not call him a poor wretch, 
 I am sure,' said the doctor. 'He has now 
 fully recovered consciousness, and, you see, he 
 is a gentleman.' 
 
 'You see that, no doubt, Mrs. Crawford,' 
 said Harwood in a tone that made the good 
 physician long to have him for a few weeks on 
 the sick list — the way the doctor had of paying 
 off old scores. 
 
 'Don't be sarcastic, Mr. Harwood,' said 
 Daireen. Then she added, ' What did you say 
 the name was ? — Oswin Markham ? I like it — 
 I like it very much.' 
 
 ' Hush,' said Mrs. Crawford. ' Here is Mr. 
 Glaston.' And it was indeed Mr. Glaston who 
 ascended the rail with a languor of motion in 
 keeping with the hour of twihght. With a 
 few muttered words the doctor walked away. 
 
 'I hear,' said Mr. Glaston after he had 
 shaken hands with Daireen, — ' I hear that there 
 was some wreck or other picked up last night 
 with a man clinging to it — a dreadfully vulgar 
 fellow he must be to carry about with him a
 
 DAIREEN. 207 
 
 lot of money — a man with a name like what 
 one would find attached to the hero of an East- 
 end melodrama.' 
 
 There was a rather lengthened silence in 
 that little group before Harwood spoke. 
 
 ' Yes,' he said ; ' it struck me that it showed 
 very questionable taste in the man to go about 
 flaunting liis money in the face of everyone he 
 met. As for his name — well, perhaps we had 
 better not say anything about his name. You 
 recollect what Mr. Tennyson makes Sir Tristram 
 say to his Isolt — I don't mean you, Glaston, I 
 know you only read the pre-Eaphaelites — 
 
 Let be thy Mark, seeing he is not thine.' 
 
 But no one seemed to remember the quota- 
 tion, or, at any rate, to see the happiness of its 
 present apphcation.
 
 208 DAIEEEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 It beckons you to go away with it, 
 As if it some impartment did desire 
 To you alone. 
 
 . . . Weigh what loss 
 If with too credent ear you list his songs 
 Or lose your heart . . . 
 Fear it, Ophelia, fear it. — Hamlet. 
 
 It could hardly be expected that there should 
 be in the mind of Daireen Gerald a total 
 absence of interest in the man who by her aid 
 had been rescued from the deep. To be sure, 
 her friend Mrs. Crawford had given her to 
 understand that people of taste might pronounce 
 the episode melodramatic, and as this word 
 sounded very terrible to Daireen, as indeed it 
 did to Mrs. Crawford herself, whose apprehension 
 of its meaning was about as vague as the girl's, 
 she never betrayed the anxiety she felt for the 
 recovery of this man, who was, she thought.
 
 DAIREEN. 209 
 
 equally accountable for the dubious taste dis- 
 played in the circumstances of his rescue. She 
 began to feel, as Mr. Glaston in his dehcacy 
 carefully refrained from alluding to this night 
 of terror, and as Mrs. Crawford assumed a 
 solemn expression of countenance upon the least 
 reference to the girl's participation in the 
 recovery of the man with the melodramatic 
 name, that there was a certain bond of sympathy 
 between herself and this Oswin Markham ; and 
 now and again when she found the doctor alone, 
 she ventured to make some enquiries regarding 
 him. In the course of a few days she learned 
 a good deal. 
 
 ' He is behaving handsomely — most hand- 
 somely, my dear,' said the doctor one afternoon 
 about a week after the occurrence. ' He eats 
 everything that is given to him and drinks in 
 a like proportion.' The girl felt that this was 
 truly noble on the part of the man, but it was 
 scarcely the exact type of information she 
 would have liked. 
 
 ' And he — is he able to speak yet ? ' she 
 asked. 
 
 'Speak? yes, to be sure. He asked me 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 DAIEEEN. 
 
 how he came to be picked up, and I told hmi,' 
 continued the doctor, with a smile of gallantry 
 of which Daireen did not believe him capable, 
 Hhat he was seen by the most charming 
 young lady in the world, — yes, yes, I told him 
 that, though I ran a chance of retarding his 
 recovery by doing so.' This was, of course, 
 quite delightful to hear, but Daireen wanted to 
 know even more about the stranger than the 
 doctor's speech had conveyed to her. 
 
 ' The poor fellow was a long time in the 
 water, I suppose ? ' she said artfully, trying to 
 find out all that the doctor had learned. 
 
 ' He was a week upon that piece of wreck,' 
 said the doctor. 
 
 The girl gave a start that seemed very like 
 a shudder, as she repeated the words, ' a week.' 
 
 ' Yes, a week ; he was on his way home 
 from Australia, where he had been living for 
 some years, and the vessel he was in was com- 
 manded by some incompetent and drunken idiot 
 who allowed it to be struck by a tornado of 
 no extraordinary violence, and to founder in 
 mid-ocean. As our friend was a passenger, he 
 says, the crew did not think it necessary to invite
 
 DAIEEEX. 211 
 
 him to have a seat in one of the boats, a fact 
 that accounts for his being ahve to-day, for both 
 boats were swamped and every soul sent to the 
 bottom in his view. He tells me he managed 
 to lash a broken topmast to the stump of the 
 mainmast that had gone by the board, and to 
 cut the ricrorinCT so that he was left driftinor when 
 
 Do O O 
 
 the hull went down. That's all the story, my 
 dear, only Ave know what a hard time of it he 
 must have had during the seven days;' 
 
 ' A hard time — a hard time,' Daireen 
 repeated musingly, and without a further word 
 she turned away. 
 
 Mr. Glaston, who had been pleased to take 
 a merciful view of her recent action of so pro- 
 nounced a type, found that his gracious attempts 
 to re-form her plastic taste did not, during this 
 evening, meet with that appreciation of which 
 they were undoubtedly deserving. Had he been 
 aware that all the time his eloquent speech 
 was flowing on the subject of the consciousness 
 of hues — a theme attractive on account of its 
 delicacy, the girl had before her eyes only a vision 
 of hea\y blue skies overhanging dark green seas 
 terrible in loneliness — the monotony of endless
 
 212 DAIREEN. 
 
 waves broken only by the appearance in the 
 centre of the waste of a broken mast and a 
 ghastly face and clinging lean hands upon it, 
 he would probably have withdrawn the conces- 
 sion he had made to Mrs. Crawford regarding 
 the taste of her protegee. 
 
 And indeed Daireen was not during any of 
 these days thinking about much besides this 
 Oswin Markham, though she never mentioned his 
 name even to the doctor. At nights when she 
 would look out over the flashing phosphorescent 
 waters, she would evermore seem to see that 
 white face looking up at her ; but now she 
 neither started nor shuddered as she was used to 
 do for a few nights after she had seen the real 
 face there. It seemed to her now as a face 
 that she knew — the face of a friend looking into 
 her face from the dim uncertain surface of the 
 sea of a dream. 
 
 One morning a few days after her most 
 interesting chat with Doctor Campion, she got 
 up even earlier than usual — before, in fact, the 
 healthy pedestrian gentleman had completed his 
 first mile, and went on deck. She had, however, 
 just stepped out of the companion when she
 
 DAIREEN. 213 
 
 heard voices and a laugh or two coming from 
 the stern. She glanced in the direction of the 
 sounds and remained motionless at the cabin 
 door. A group consisting of the major, the 
 doctor, and the captain of the steamer were 
 standing in the neighbourhood of the w^heel ; 
 but upon a deck-chair, amongst a heap of 
 cushions, a stranger was lying back — a man 
 with a thin brown face and large, somewhat 
 sunken eyes, and a short brown beard and 
 moustache ; he was holding a cigar in the fingers 
 of his left hand that drooped over the arm of 
 the chair — a long white hand — and he was look- 
 ing up to the face of the major, who was telhng 
 one of his usual stories with his accustomed 
 power. Xone of the other passengers were on 
 deck with the exception of the pedestrian, who 
 came into view every few minutes as he reached 
 the after part of the ship. 
 
 She stood there at the door of the companion 
 without any motion, looking at that haggard face 
 of the stranger. She saw a faint smile light up 
 his deep eyes and pass over his featiu-es as the 
 major brought out the full piquancy of his little 
 anecdote, which was certainly not virginihiLS
 
 214 DAIREEN. 
 
 puerisque. Then she turned and went down 
 again to her cabin without seeing how a young 
 sailor was standing gazing at her from the 
 passage of the sliip's bridge. She sat down in 
 her cabin and waited until the ringing of the 
 second bell for breakfast. 
 
 ' You are getting dreadfully lazy, my dear,' 
 said Mrs. Crawford as she took her seat by the 
 girl's side. ' Why were you not up as usual to 
 get an appetite for breakfast ? ' Then without 
 waiting for an answer, she whispered, ' Do you 
 see the stranger at the other side of the table ? 
 That is our friend Mr. Oswin Markham ; his 
 name does not sound so queer when you come 
 to know him. The doctor was right, Daireen : 
 he is a gentleman.' 
 
 ' Then you have ' 
 
 'Yes, I have made his acquaintance this 
 morning already. I hope Mr. Glaston may not 
 think that it was my fault.' 
 
 ' Mr. Glaston ? ' said Daireen. 
 
 ' Yes ; you know he is so sensitive in matters 
 like this ; he might fancy that it would be better 
 to leave this stranger by himself ; but considering 
 that he will be parting from the ship in a week.
 
 DAIREEN. 215 
 
 I don't think I was wrong to let my husband 
 present me. At any rate he is a gentleman 
 — that is one satisfaction.' 
 
 Daireen felt that there was every reason to 
 be glad that she was not placed in the unhappy 
 position of having taken steps for the rescue 
 of a person not accustomed to mix in good 
 society. But she did not even once glance 
 down towards the man whose standing had 
 been by a competent judge pronounced satis- 
 factory. She herself talked so little, however, 
 that she could hear him speak in answer to the 
 questions some good-natured people at the 
 bottom of the table put to him, regarding the 
 name of his ship and the circumstances of the 
 catastrophe that had come upon it. Slie also 
 heard the young lady who had the peculiar 
 fancy for blue and pink beg of him to do her 
 the favour of writing his name in her birthday 
 book. 
 
 During the hours that elapsed before tifien 
 Daireen sat with a novel in her hand, and she 
 knew that the stranger was on the ship's bridge 
 with Major Crawford. The major found his 
 company exceedingly agreeable, for the old
 
 216 DAIREEN. 
 
 officer had unfortunately been prodigal of his 
 stories through the first week of the voyage, and 
 lately he had been reminded that he was 
 repeating himself when he had begun a really 
 choice anecdote. This Mr. Markham, however, 
 had never been in India, so that the major found 
 in him an appreciative audience, and for the 
 satisfactory narration of a chronicle of Hindustan 
 an appreciative audience is an important con- 
 sideration. The major, however, appeared 
 alone at tiffen, for Mr. Markham, he said, 
 preferred lying in the sun on the bridge to 
 eating salad in the cabin. The young lady with 
 the birthday book seemed a little disappointed, 
 for she had just taken the bold step of adding to 
 . her personal decorations a large artificial moss- 
 rose with glass beads sewed all about it in 
 marvellous similitude to early dew, and it woidd 
 not bear being trifled with in the matter of 
 detaching from her dress. 
 
 Whether or not ]\irs. Crawford had con- 
 ferred with Mr. Glaston on the subject of the 
 isolation of Mr. Markham, Daireen, on coming 
 to sit down to the dinner-table, found Mrs. Craw- 
 ford and Mr. Markham standing in the saloon
 
 DAIREEN. 217 
 
 just at the entrance to her cabin. She could feel 
 herself flushing as she looked up to the man's 
 haggard face while Mrs. Crawford pronounced 
 their names, and she knew that the hand she 
 put in his thin fingers was trembling. Neither 
 spoke a single word : they only looked at each 
 other. Then the doctor came forward ^^dth 
 some remark that Daireen did not seem to hear, 
 and soon the table was surrounded with the 
 passengers. 
 
 ' He says he feels nearly as strong as he 
 ever did,' whispered Mrs. Crawford to the girl 
 as they sat down together. ' He will be able 
 to leave us at St. Helena next week without 
 doubt.' 
 
 On the same evenincr Daireen was sittincr in 
 her usual place far astern. The sun had set 
 some time, and the latitude being only a few 
 degrees south of the equator, the darkness had 
 already almost come down upon the waters. 
 It was dimmer than twihght, but not the solid 
 darkness of a tropical night. The groups of 
 passengers had all dispersed or gone forward, 
 and the only sounds were the whisperings of 
 the water in the wake of the steamer, and the
 
 218 DAIREEN. 
 
 splashing of the flying fish. Suddenly from the 
 cabin there came the music of the piano, and a 
 low voice singing to its accompaniment — so 
 faint it came that Daireen knew no one on deck 
 except herself could hear the voice, for she was 
 sitting just beside the open fanlight of the 
 saloon ; but she heard every w^ord that was 
 sung : — 
 
 When the vesper gold has waned ; 
 When the passion-hues of eve 
 Breathe themselves away and leave 
 Blue the heaven their crimson stained, 
 But one hour the world doth grieve, 
 For the shadowy skies receive 
 Stars so gracious-sweet that they 
 Make night more beloved than day. 
 
 II. 
 
 From my life the light has waned : 
 
 Every golden gleam that shone 
 
 Through the dimness now has gone. 
 Of all joys has one remained ] 
 
 Stays one gladness I have known 1 
 
 Day is past ; I stand, alone. 
 Here beneath these darkened skies. 
 Asking — ' Doth a star arise 1 ' 
 
 It ended so faintly that Daireen Gerald 
 could not tell when the last note had come.
 
 D AIRE EX. 211) 
 
 She felt that she was in a dream and the sounds 
 she had heard were but a part of her dream — 
 sounds ? were these sounds, or merely the effect 
 of breathing the lovely shadowy light that 
 swathed the waters ? The sounds seemed to 
 her the twilight expressed in music. 
 
 Then in the silence she heard a voice speak- 
 ing her name. She turned and saw Oswin 
 Markham standing beside her. 
 
 ' Miss Gerald,' he said. ' I owe my life to 
 you. I thank you for it.' 
 
 He could hardly have expressed himself 
 more simply if he had been thanking her for 
 passing him a fig at dinner, and yet his words 
 thrilled her. 
 
 ' No, no ; do not say that,' she said in a 
 startled voice. ' I did nothmg — nothing that 
 anyone else might not have done. Oh, do not 
 talk of it, please.' 
 
 ' I will not,' he said slowly after a pause. 
 ' I will never talk of it again. I was a fool to 
 speak of it to you. I know now that you 
 understand — that there is no need for me to 
 open my lips to you.' 
 
 ' I do indeed,' she said, turning her eyes
 
 220 DAIKEEN. 
 
 upon his face. ' I do understand/ She put 
 out her hand, and he took it in his own — not 
 fervently, not with the least expression of 
 emotion, his fingers closed over it. A long time 
 passed before she saw his face in front of her 
 own, and felt his eyes looking into her eyes as 
 his words came in a whisper, ' Child — child, 
 there is a bond between us — a bond whose 
 token is silence.' 
 
 She kept her eyes fixed upon his as he 
 spoke, and long after his words had come. 
 She knew he had spoken the truth ; there was 
 a bond between them. She understood it. 
 
 She saw the gaunt face with its large eyes 
 close to her own ; her own eyes filled with 
 tears, and then came the first token of their 
 bond — silence. She felt his grasp unloosed, 
 she heard him moving away, and she knew 
 that she was alone in the silence.
 
 DAIREEN. 221 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Give him heedful note ; 
 For I mine eyes will rivet to his face, 
 And after we will both our judgements join. 
 
 Thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart : 
 but it is no matter. 
 
 You must needs have heard, how I am punish'd 
 "With sore distraction. "V\Tiat I have done 
 I here proclaim was madness. — Hamlet. 
 
 It was very generally thought that it was a 
 fortunate circumstance for Mr. Oswin Markham 
 that there chanced to be in the fore-cabin of 
 the steamer an enterprising American specu- 
 lator who was taking out some hundred dozens 
 of ready-made garments for disposal to the 
 diamond miners, and an equal quantity of 
 less durable clothing, in which he had been 
 induced to invest some money with a view to 
 the ultimate adoption of clothing by the Kafir 
 nation. He explained how he had secured the
 
 222 DATREEN. 
 
 services of a liard- working missionary whom 
 he had sent as agent in advance to endeavour 
 to convince the natives that if they ever wished 
 to gain a footing among great nations, the auxi- 
 hary of clothing towards the effecting of their 
 object was worth taking into consideration. 
 When the market for these garments wonld thns 
 be created, the speculator hoped to arrive on the 
 scene and make a tolerable sum of money. In 
 rear of his missionary, he had scoured most of 
 the islands of the Pacific with very satisfactory 
 results ; and he said he felt, that if he could 
 but prevail upon his missionary in advance to 
 keep steady, a large work of evangelisation 
 could be done in South Africa. 
 
 By the aid of this enterprising person Mr. 
 Markham was able to clothe himself without 
 borrowing from any of the passengers. But 
 about the payment for his purchases there 
 seemed likely to be some difficulty. The bank 
 order for four hundred pounds was once again 
 in the possession of Mr. Markham, but it was 
 payable in England, and how then could he 
 effect the transfer of the few pounds he owed 
 the American speculator, when he was to leave
 
 DAIREEX. 223 
 
 tlie vessel at St. Helena? There was no 
 agency of the bank at this island, though 
 there was one at the Cape, and thus the 
 question of payment became somewhat difS- 
 ciilt to solve. 
 
 'Do you want to leave the craft at St. 
 Helena, mister ? ' asked the American, stroking 
 his chin thoughtfully. 
 
 ' I do,' said ]Mr. Markham. ' I must leave 
 at the island and take the first ship to Eng- 
 land.' 
 
 ' It's the awkwardest place on God's foot- 
 stool, this St. Helena, isn't it?' said the 
 American. 
 
 ' I don't see that it is ; why do you say 
 so?' 
 
 ' Only that I don't see why you want so 
 partickler to land thar, mister. May be you'll 
 change yer mind, eh ? ' 
 
 ' I have said that I must part from this ship 
 there,' exclaimed Mr. Markham almost impa- 
 tiently. 'I must get this order reduced to 
 money somehow.' 
 
 ' Wal, I reckon that's about the point, 
 mister,' said the speculator. 'But you see if
 
 224 DAIREEN. 
 
 you want to fly it as you say, you'll not breeze 
 about that it's needful for you to cut tlie craft 
 before you come to the Cape. I'd half a mind 
 to try and trade with you for that bit of paper 
 ten minutes ago, but I reckon that's not 
 what's the matter with me now. No, sir; if 
 you want to get rid of that paper without 
 much trouble, just you give out that you 
 don't care if you do go on to the Cape ; may 
 be a nibble will come from that.' 
 
 'I don't know what you mean, my good 
 fellow,' said Markham ; ' but I can only repeat 
 that I will not go on to the Cape. I will get 
 the money somehow and pay you before I 
 leave, for surely the order is as good as money 
 to anyone living in the midst of civilisation. 
 I don't suppose a savage would understand it, 
 but I can't see what objection anyone in busi- 
 ness could make to receiving it at its full 
 value.' 
 
 The American screwed up his mouth in a 
 peculiar fashion, and smiled in a still more 
 peculiar fashion. He rather fancied he had a 
 small piece of tobacco in his waistcoat pocket, 
 nor did the result of a search show that he was
 
 DAIREEX. 225 
 
 mistaken ; he extracted the succulent morsel 
 and put it into his mouth. Then he winked 
 at Mr. Markham, put his hands in his pockets, 
 and walked slowly away without a word. 
 
 Markham looked after liim with a puzzled 
 expression. He did not know what the man 
 meant to convey by his nods and his becks and 
 his wreathed smiles. But just at this moment 
 Mr. Harwood came up ; he had of course previ- 
 ously made the acquaintance of Markham. 
 
 ' I suppose we shall soon be losing you ? ' 
 said Harwood, offering him a cigar. ' You said, 
 I think, that you would be leaving us at St. 
 Helena ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I leave at St. Helena, and we will be 
 there in a few days. You see, I am now 
 nearly as strong as ever, thanks to Campion, 
 and it is important for me to get to England at 
 once.' 
 
 ' No doubt,' said Harwood ; ' your relatives 
 will be very anxious if they hear of the loss of 
 the vessel you were in.' 
 
 Markham crave a little laugh, as he said 
 ' I have no relatives ; and as for friends — well 
 I suppose I sliall have a number now.' 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 DAIREEN. 
 
 'Now?' 
 
 ' Yes ; the fact is I was on my way home 
 from Austraha to take up a certain property 
 which my father left to me in England. He 
 died six months ago, and the sohcitors for the 
 estate sent me out a considerable sum of money 
 in case I should need it in Australia — this 
 order for four-hundred pounds is what remains 
 of it.' 
 
 ' I can now easily understand your desire 
 to be at home and settled down,' said Har- 
 wood. 
 
 ' I don't mean to settle down,' replied Mark- 
 ham. ' There are a good many places to be 
 seen in the world, small as it is.' 
 
 ' A man who has knocked about in the 
 Colonies is generally glad to settle down at 
 home,' remarked Harwood. 
 
 ' No doubt that is the rule, but I fear I am 
 all awry so far as rules are concerned. I haven't 
 allowed my life to be subject to many rules, 
 hitherto. Would to God I had ! It is not a 
 pleasant recollection for a son to go through 
 hfe with, Harwood, that his fatjier has died 
 without becoming reconciled to him — especially
 
 DAIREEN. 227 
 
 when he knows that his father has died leaving 
 him a couple of thousands a year.' 
 
 ' And you ' 
 
 ' I am such a son,' said Markham, turning 
 round suddenly. 'I did all that I could to 
 make my father's life miserable till — a climax 
 came, and I found myself in Australia three 
 years ago with an allowance sufficient to keep 
 me from ever being in want. But I forget, I'm 
 not a modern Ancient Mariner, wandering about 
 boring people with my sad story.' 
 
 ' 1^0,' said Harwood, ' you are not, I should 
 hope. Xor am I so pressed for time just now 
 as the weddino; oruest. You did not 2^0 in for a 
 sheep run in Australia ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing of the sort,' laughed the other. 
 ' The only thing I went m for was getting 
 through my allowance, until that letter came 
 that sobered me — that letter telling me that my 
 father was dead, and that every penny he had 
 possessed was mine. Harwood, you have heard 
 of people's hair turning white in a few hours, 
 but you have not often heard of natures chang- 
 ing from black to white m a short space ; 
 beheve me it was so with me. The idea that 
 
 q2
 
 228 DAIREEN. 
 
 theologians used to have long ago, about souls 
 passing from earth to heaven in a moment 
 might well be believed by me, knowing as I do 
 how my soul was transformed by that letter. 
 I cast my old life behind me, though I did not 
 tell anyone about me what had happened. I 
 left my companions and said to them that I was 
 going up country. I did go up country, but I 
 returned in a few days and got aboard the first 
 ship that was sailing for England, and — here 
 lam.' 
 
 ' And you mean to renew your life of wan- 
 dering when you reach England ? ' said Har- 
 wood after a pause. 
 
 ' It is all that there is left for me,' said the 
 man bitterly, though a change in his tone would 
 have made his words seem very pitiful. ' I am 
 not such a fool as to fancy that a man can sow 
 tares and reap Avheat. The spring of my life is 
 over, and also the summer, the seed-time and 
 the ripening ; shall the harvest be delayed then? 
 No, I am not such a fooL' 
 
 ' I cannot see that you might not rest at 
 home,' said Harwood. ' Surely you have some 
 associations in Endand.'
 
 DAIREEX. 229 
 
 'Not one that is not wretched.' 
 
 ' But a man of good family with some money- 
 is always certain to make new associations for 
 himself, no matter what his life has been. 
 Marriage, for instance ; it is, I think, an exceed- 
 ingly sure way of squaring a fellow up in life.' 
 
 'A very sure way indeed,' laughed Markham. 
 ' Never mind ; in another week I shall be away 
 from this society which has alroady become so 
 pleasant to me. Perhaps I shall knock up 
 against you in some of the strange places of the 
 earth, Harwood.' 
 
 ' I heartily hope so,' said the other. ' But 
 I still cannot see why you should not come on 
 with us to the Cape. The voyage will com- 
 pletely restore you, you can get your money 
 changed there, and a steamer of this company's 
 will take you away two days after you land.' 
 
 ' I cannot remain aboard this steamer,' said 
 Markham quickly. ' I must leave at St. Helena.' 
 Then he walked away v/ith that shortness of 
 ceremony which steamer voyagers get into 
 a habit of showing to each other without giving 
 offence. 
 
 'Poor beggar ! ' muttered Harwood.
 
 230 DAIEEEN. 
 
 'Wrecked in sight of the haven — a pleasant 
 haven — yes, if he is not an uncommonly good 
 actor.' He turned round from where he was 
 leaning over the ship's side smoking, and saw 
 the man with whom he had been talking seated 
 in his chair by the side of Daireen Gerald. He 
 watched them for some time — for a lono^ time — 
 until his cigar was smoked to the very end. 
 He looked over the side thoughtfully as he 
 dropped the remnant and heard its little hiss 
 in the w^ater ; then he repeated his words, ' a 
 wreck.' Once more he glanced astern, and 
 then he added thoughtfully, ' Yes, he is right ; 
 he had much better part at St. Helena — very 
 much better.' 
 
 Mr. Markham seemed quite naturally to 
 have found his j)lace in Mrs. Crawford's set, 
 exclusive though it was ; for somehow aboard 
 ship a man amalgamates only with that society 
 for which he is suited ; a man is seldom to be 
 found out of place on account of certain con- 
 siderations such as one meets on shore. Not 
 even Mr. Glaston could raise any protest against 
 Mr. Markliam's right to take a place in the 
 midst of the elect of the cabin. But the young
 
 DAIREEN. 231 
 
 lady in whose birthday book Mr. Markham had 
 inscribed his name upon the first day of his 
 appearance at the table, thought it very unkind 
 of him to join the band who had failed to 
 appreciate her toilet splendours. 
 
 During the day on which he gave Harwood 
 his brief autobiographical outhne, Mr. Oswin 
 Markham was frequently by the side of Miss 
 Gerald and Mrs. Crawford. But towards night 
 the major felt that it woukl be unjust to allow 
 him to be defrauded of the due amount of 
 narratory entertainment so necessary for his 
 comfort ; and with these excellent intentions 
 drew him away from the others of the set, and, 
 sitting on the secluded bridge, brought forth 
 from the abundant resources of his memory a 
 few well-defined anecdotes of that hvely Arra- 
 dambad station. But all the while the major 
 was narrating the stories he could see that 
 Markham's soul was otherwhere, and he began 
 to be disappointed in Mr. Markham. 
 
 ' I mustn't bore you, Markham, my boy,' 
 he said as he rose, after having wiled away 
 about two hours of the night in this agreeable 
 occupation. 'Xo, I mustn't bore you, and you
 
 232 DAIREEN-. 
 
 look, upon my soul, as if you had been 
 suffering.' 
 
 ' No, no, I assure you, I never enjoyed any- 
 thing more than that story of — of — the Surgeon- 
 General and the wife of — of — the Commissary.' 
 
 ' The Adjutant-General, you mean,' inter- 
 rupted the major. 
 
 ' Of course, yes, the Adjutant ; a deucedly 
 good story ! ' 
 
 ' Ah, not bad, is it ? But there goes six bells ; 
 I must think about turning in. Come and join 
 me in a glass of brandy and water.' 
 
 ' No, no ; not to-night — not to-night. The 
 fact is I feel — I feel queer.' 
 
 ' You're not quite set on your feet yet, my 
 boy,' said the major critically. ' Take care of 
 yourself.' And he walked away, wondering if 
 it was possible that he had been deceived in 
 his estimate of tlie nature of Mr. Markham. 
 
 But Mr. Markham continued sitting alone 
 in the silence of the deserted deck. His 
 thought was truly otherwhere. He lay back 
 upon his seat and kept his eyes fixed upon the 
 sky — the sky of stars towards which he had 
 looked in agony for those seven nights when
 
 DAIREEX. 233 
 
 nothing ever broke in upon the dread loneHness 
 of the barren sea but those starhghts. The 
 terrible recollection of every moment he liad 
 passed returned to him. 
 
 Then he thought how he had heard of 
 men becoming, through sufferings such as his, 
 oblivious to everything of their past life — men 
 who were thus enabled to begin life anew with- 
 out being racked by any dread memories. The 
 agony that they had endiu*ed being acknow- 
 ledged by Heaven as expiation of their past 
 deeds. That was justice, he felt, and if this 
 justice had been done to these men, why had it 
 been withheld from him ? 
 
 ' Could God Himself have added to what 
 I endured ? ' he said in passionate bitterness. 
 ' God ! did I not suffer until my agony had over- 
 shot its mark by destroying in me the power of 
 feeling agony — my agony consumed itself; I 
 was dead — dead ; and yet I am denied the 
 power of beginning my new life under the 
 conditions which are my due. What more 
 can God want of man than his hfe ? have I not 
 paid that debt daily for seven days ? ' He rose 
 from his chair and stood upright upon the deck
 
 234 DAIREEX. 
 
 with clenched hands and hps. ' It is past,' he 
 said after a long pause. ' From this hour I 
 throw the past beneath my feet. It is my right 
 to forget all, and — I have forgotten all — all.' 
 
 Mr. Harwood had truly reason to feel 
 surprised when on the following day Oswin 
 Markham came up to him, and said quietly, 
 
 ' I believe you are right, Harwood : after 
 all, it would be foolish for me to part from the 
 ship at St. Helena. I have decided to take 
 your advice and run on to the Cape.' 
 
 Harwood looked at him for a few moments 
 before he answered slowly, 
 
 ' Ah, you have decided.' 
 
 ' Yes ; you see I am amenable to reason : I 
 acknowledge the wisdom of my counsellors.' 
 But Harwood made no answer, only continued 
 with his eyes fixed upon his face. 'Hang it 
 all,' exclaimed Markham, ' can't 3'ou congratu- 
 late me upon my return to the side of reason? 
 Can't you acknowledge that you have been 
 mistaken in me — that you find I am not so pig- 
 headed as you supposed.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Harwood ; ' you are not pig- 
 headed.'
 
 DAIREEX. 235 
 
 And, taking all things into consideration, 
 it can hardly be denied that Mr. Oswin 
 Markham's claim to be exem^^ted from the 
 class of persons called pig-headed v:as well 
 founded.
 
 236 DAIREEN. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 'Tis told me be liath very oft of late 
 
 Given private time to you : and you yourself 
 
 Have of your audience been most free and bounteous. 
 
 Do you believe bis tenders, as you call tbem ? — Hamlet. 
 
 Mrs. Crawford felt that she was being un- 
 kindly dealt with by Fate in many matters. She 
 had formed certain plans on coming aboard the 
 steamer and on taking in at a glance the 
 position of everyone about her — it was her 
 habit to do so on the occasion of her arrival at 
 any new station in the Indian Empire, and 
 hitherto she had generally had the satisfaction 
 of witnessing the success of her plans ; but now 
 she began to fear that if thin^^s continued to 
 diverge so widely from the paths which it was 
 natiu-al to expect them to have kept, her skilful 
 devices would be completely overthrown. 
 
 Mrs. Crawford had within the first few
 
 DAIREEX. 237 
 
 hours of the voyage communicated to her 
 husband her intention of surprising Colonel 
 Gerald on the arrival of his daucrhter at the 
 Cape ; for he could scarcely fail to be surprised 
 and, of course, gratified, if he would be made 
 aware of the fact that his daughter had con- 
 ceived an attachment for a young man so 
 distinguished in many ways as the son of the 
 Bishop of the Calapash Islands and Metropohtan 
 of the Salamander Archipelago — the style and 
 titles of the father of JVIr. Glaston. 
 
 But Daireen, instead of showing herself a 
 docile subject and ready to act according to the 
 least suggestion of one who was so much Aviser 
 and more experienced than herself, had begun 
 to think and to act most waywardly. Though 
 she had gone ashore at Madeira contrary to Mr. 
 Glaston's advice, and had even ventured to 
 assert, in the face of Mr. Glaston's demonstration 
 to the contrary, that she had spent a pleasant 
 day, yet Mrs. Crawford saw that it would be 
 quite possible, by care and thoughtfulness in the 
 future, to overcome all the unhappy influences 
 her childishness would have upon the mind of 
 Mr. Glaston. 
 
 Being well aware of this, she had for some
 
 238 DAIREEN. 
 
 days great hope of her protegee ; but then 
 Daireen had apparently cast to the winds all 
 her sense of duty to those who were qualified 
 to instruct her, for she had not only disagreed 
 upon a theory Mr. Glaston had expressed re- 
 garding the symbolism of a certain design 
 having for its chief elements sections of pome- 
 granates and conventionalised daisies — Inno- 
 cence allured by Ungovernable Passion was 
 the parable preached through the union of some 
 tones of sage gr^en and saffron, Mr. Glaston 
 assured the circle whom he had favoured with 
 his views on this subject — but she had also 
 laughed when Mr. Harwood made some 
 whispered remark about the distressing diffusion 
 of jaundice through the floral creation. 
 
 This was very sad to Mrs. Crawford. She 
 was nearly angry with Daireen, and if she could 
 have afforded it, she would have been angry 
 with Mr. Harwood ; she was, however, mindful 
 of the influence of the letters she hoped 
 the special correspondent of the 'Dominant 
 Trumpeter' would be writing regarding the 
 general satisfaction that was felt throughout the 
 colonies of South Africa that the Home Govern-
 
 DAIREEN. 239 
 
 ment had selected so efficient and trustworthy 
 an officer to discharge the duties in connection 
 with the Army Boot Commission, so she could 
 not be anything but most friendly towards Mr. 
 Harwood. 
 
 Then it was a great grief to Mrs. Crawford 
 to see the man who, though undoubtedly well 
 educated and even cultured, was still a sort of 
 adventurer, seating himself more than once by 
 the side of Daireen on the deck, and to notice 
 that the girl talked ^vith him even when Mr. 
 Glaston was near — Mr. Glaston, who had re- 
 ferred to his sudden arrival aboard the ship as 
 being melodramatic. But on the day [preced- 
 ing the expected arrival of the steamer at St. 
 Helena, the well-meaning lady began to feel 
 almost happy once more, for she recollected how 
 fixed had been Mr. Markham's determination to 
 leave the steamer at the island. Being almost 
 happy, she thought she might go so far as to 
 express to the man the grief which reflecting 
 upon his departure excited. 
 
 ' We shall miss you from oiu- Httle circle, I 
 can assure you, Mr. Markham,' she said. ' Your 
 coming was so — so — ' she thought of a substitute
 
 240 DAIREEX. 
 
 for melodramatic — ' so unexpected, and so — 
 well, almost romantic, that indeed it has left an 
 impression upon all of us. Try and get into a 
 room in the hotel at James Town that the white 
 ants haven't devoured ; I really envy you the 
 delicious water-cress you will have every day.' 
 
 ' You will be spared the chance of commit- 
 ting that sin, Mrs. Crawford, though I fear the 
 penance which will be imposed upon you for 
 ha™g even imagined it, will be unjustly great. 
 The fact is, I have been so weak as to allow 
 myself to be persuaded by Doctor Campion and 
 Harwood to go on to the Cape.' 
 
 ' To go on to the Cape ! ' exclaimed the lady. 
 
 ' To go on to the Cape, Mrs. Crawford ; so 
 you see you will be bored with me for another 
 week.' 
 
 Mrs. Crawford looked utterly bewildered, as 
 indeed she was. Her smile was very faint as 
 she said : 
 
 ' Ah, how nice ; you have been persuaded. 
 Ah, very pleasant it will be ; but how one may 
 be deceived in judging of another's character ! 
 I really formed the impression that you were 
 firmness itself, Mr. Markham ! '
 
 DAIREEX. 241 
 
 ' So I am, Mrs. Crawford, except when my 
 inclination tends in the opposite direction to ray 
 resohition ; then, I assure you, I can be led with 
 a strand of floss.' 
 
 This was, of course, veiy pleasant chat, and 
 with the clink of comphment about it, but it was 
 anything but satisfactory to the lady to whom it 
 was addressed. She by no means felt in the 
 mood for listening to mere colloquialisms, even 
 though they might be of the most brilhant 
 nature, which Mr. Markham's certainly were not. 
 
 'Yes, I fancied tlrat you were firmness 
 itself,' she repeated. 'But you allowed your 
 mind to be changed by — by the doctor and Mr. 
 Harwood.' 
 
 ' Well, not wholly, to say the truth, Mrs. 
 Crawford,' he interposed. ' It is pitiful to have 
 to confess that I am capable of being influenced 
 by a monetary matter ; but so it is : the fact is, 
 if I were to land now at St. Helena, I should 
 be not only penniless myself, but I should be 
 obhged also to run in debt for these, garments 
 that my friend Phineas F. Fulton of Denver 
 City, supphed me with, not to speak of what I 
 feel I owe to the steamer itself ; so I think it is 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 DAIREEN. 
 
 better for me to get my paper money turned 
 into cash at the Cape, and then hurry home- 
 wards.' 
 
 ' No doubt you understand your own busi- 
 ness,' said the lady, smihng faintly as she walked 
 away. 
 
 Mr. Oswin Markham watched her for some 
 moments in a thoughtful way. He had known 
 for a considerable time that the major's wife 
 understood her business, at any rate, and that 
 she was also quite capable of comprehending — 
 nay, of directing as well — the business of every 
 member of her social circle. But how was it 
 possible, he asked himself, that she should have 
 come to look upon his remaining for another 
 week aboard the steamer as a matter of con- 
 cern ? He was a close enough observer to be 
 able to see from her manner that she did so ; 
 but he could not understand how she should 
 regard him as of any importance in the arrange- 
 ment of her plans for the next week, whatever 
 they might be. 
 
 But Mrs. Crawford, as soon as she found 
 herself by the side of Daireen in the evening, 
 resolved to satisfy herself upon the subject of
 
 DAIKEEX. 243 
 
 the iuflueuces wliich had been brought to bear 
 upon AIi\ Oswin ^larkham, causing his cha- 
 racter for determination to be lost for ever. 
 
 Daireen was sitting alone far astern, and 
 had just finished directing some envelopes for 
 letters to be sent home the next day from St. 
 Helena. 
 
 ' ^Yhat a capital habit to get into of writing 
 on that httle case on your knee ! ' said Mrs. 
 Crawford. ' You have been on deck all day, 
 you see, while the other correspondents are 
 shut down in the saloon. You have had a 
 good deal to tell the old people at that won- 
 derful Irish lake of yours since you wrote at 
 Madeira.' 
 
 Daireen thought of all she had written 
 regarding Standish MacDermot to prevent his 
 father becoming uneasy about him. 
 
 ' Oh, yes, I have had a good deal of news 
 that will interest them,' she said. • 1 have told 
 them that the Atlantic is not such a terrible 
 place after all. ^Miy, we have not had even a 
 breeze yet.' 
 
 ' !N'o, we have not, but you should not for- 
 get, Daireen, the tornado that at least one ship 
 
 R 2
 
 244 DAIREEX. 
 
 perished in.' She looked gravely at the girl, 
 though she felt very pleased indeed to know- 
 that her protegee had not remembered this 
 particular storm. ' You have mentioned in 
 your letters, I hope, how Mr. Markham was 
 saved.' 
 
 ' I beheve I devoted an entire page to Mr. 
 Markham,' Daireen replied with a smile. 
 
 ' That is right, my dear. You have also 
 said, I am sure, how we all hope he is — a — a 
 gentleman.' 
 
 ' Hope ? ' said Daireen quickly. Then she 
 added after a pause, ' No, Mrs. Crawford, I 
 don't think I said that. I only said that he 
 would be leaving us to-morrow.' 
 
 Mrs. Crawford's nicely sensitive ear de- 
 tected, she fancied, a tinge of regret in the 
 girl's last tone. 
 
 ' Ah, he told you that he had made up his 
 mind to leave the ship at St. Helena, did he 
 not? ' she asked. 
 
 ' Of course he is to leave us there, Mrs. 
 Crawford. Did you not understand so ? ' 
 
 ' I did indeed ; but I am disappointed in 
 ]\lr. Markham. I thought that he was every-
 
 DAIREEN, 245 
 
 thing that is firm. Yes, I am clisappoiated in 
 him.' 
 
 ' Ho^v ? ' said Daireen with a httle flush 
 and an anxious movement of her eyes. ' How 
 do you mean he has disappointed you ? ' 
 
 ' He is not going to leave us at St. Helena, 
 Daireen ; he is coming on with us to the Cape.' 
 
 With sorrow and dismay Mrs. Crawford 
 noticed Daireen's face undergo a change from 
 anxiety to pleasure ; nor did she allow the little 
 flush that came to the girl's forehead to escape 
 her observation. These changes of counten- 
 ance were almost terrifying to the lady. ' It is 
 the first time I have had my confidence in him 
 shaken/ she added. 'In spite of what Mr. 
 Harwood said of him I had not the least sus- 
 picion of this Mr. Markham, but now ' 
 
 ' What did Mr. Harwood say of him ? ' 
 asked Daireen with a touch of scorn in her 
 voice. 
 
 'You need not get angry, Daireen, my 
 child,' replied Mrs. Crawford. 
 
 'Angry, Mrs. Crawford? How could you 
 fancy I was angry ? Only what right had this 
 Mr. Harwood to say anything about Mr.
 
 246 DAIREEX. 
 
 Markham? Perhaps Mr. Glaston was saying 
 something too. I thought that as Mr. Mark- 
 ham was a stranger everyone here would treat 
 him with consideration, and yet, you see ' 
 
 ' Good gracious, Daireen, what can you 
 possibly mean?' cried Mrs. Crawford. 'Not 
 a soul has ever treated Mr. Markham except in 
 good taste from the day he came aboard this 
 vessel. Of course young men will talk, espe- 
 cially young newspaper men, and more especi- 
 ally young " Dominant Trumpeter " men. For 
 myself, you saw how readily I admitted Mr. 
 Markham into our set, though you will allow 
 that, all things considered, I need not have done 
 so at all.' 
 
 ' He was a stranger,' said Daireen. 
 
 ' But he is not therefore an angel unawares, 
 my dear,' said Mrs. Crawford, smiling as she 
 patted the girl's hand in token of amity. ' So 
 long as he meant to be a stranger of course we 
 were justified in making him as pleasant as 
 possible ; but now, you see, he is not going to 
 be a stranger. But why should we talk upon 
 so unprofitable a subject? Tell me all the 
 rest that you have been writing about.'
 
 DAIREEN. 247 
 
 Daireen made an attempt to recollect what 
 were the topics of her letters, but she was not 
 very successM in recalling them. 
 
 ' I told them about the — the albatross, 
 how it has followed us so faithfully,' she 
 said ; ' and how the Cape pigeons came to us 
 yesterday.' 
 
 ' Ah, indeed. Very nice it will be for the 
 dear old people at home. Ah, Daireen, how 
 happy you are to have some place^ you can 
 look back upon and think of as your home. 
 Here am I in my old age still a vagabond upon 
 the face of the earth. I have no home, dear.' 
 The lady felt that this piece of pathos should 
 touch the girl deeply. 
 
 ' No, no, don't say that, my dear Mrs. Craw- 
 ford,' Daireen said gently. ' Say that your 
 dear kind good-nature makes you feel at home 
 in every part of the world.' 
 
 This was very nice Mrs. Crawford felt, as 
 she kissed the face beside her, but she did not 
 therefore come to the conclusion that it would 
 be well to forget that little expression of plea- 
 sure which had flashed over this same face a 
 few minutes before.
 
 248 DAIEEEX. 
 
 At this very hour upon the eveniug follow- 
 ing the anchors were being weighed, and the 
 good steamer was already backing slowly out 
 from the place it had occupied in the midst 
 of the little fleet of whale-ships and East India- 
 men beneath the grim shadow of that black 
 ocean rock, St. Helena. The church spire of 
 James Town was just coming into view as the 
 motion of the ship disclosed a larger s-pace of 
 the gorge where the little town is built. The 
 flag was being hauled down from the spar at 
 the top of Ladder Hill, and the man was stand- 
 ing by the sunset gun aboard H. M. S. ' Cobra.' 
 The last of the shore-boats was cast off from 
 the rail, and then, the anchor being reported in 
 sight, the steamer put on full speed ahead, the 
 helm was made hard-a-starboard, and the vessel 
 swept round out of the harbour. 
 
 Mr. Harwood and Major Crawford were in 
 anxious conversation with an Engineer officer 
 who had been summoned to the Cape to assist 
 in a certain council which was to be held regard- 
 ing the attitude of a Kafir chief who was 
 inclined to be defiant of the lawful possessors of 
 the country. But Daireen was standing at the
 
 DAIREEX. 249 
 
 ship's side looking at that wonderful line of 
 mountain-wall connecting the batteries round 
 the island. Her thoughts were not, however, 
 wholly of the days when there was a reason why 
 this little island should be the most strongly 
 fortified in the ocean. As the steamer moved 
 gently round the dark cliffs she was not reflect- 
 ing upon what must have been the feelings of 
 the great Emperor-general who had been 
 accustomed to stand upon these cliffs and to 
 look seaward. Her thoughts were indeed un- 
 defined in their course, and she knew this when 
 she heard the voice of Oswin Markham beside 
 her. 
 
 ' Can you fancy what would be my thoughts 
 at this time if I had kept to my resolution — 
 and that I were now up there among those big 
 rocks ? ' he asked. 
 
 She shook her head, but did not utter a word 
 in answer. 
 
 ' 1 wonder what would yours have been now 
 if I had kept to my resolution,' he then said. 
 
 ' I cannot tell you, indeed,' she answered. 
 ' I cannot fancy what I should be thinking.' 
 
 ' Nor can I tell you what my thought would
 
 250 DAIREEN. 
 
 be,' he said after a pause. He was leaning with 
 one arm upon the moulding of the bulwarks, 
 and she had her eyes still fixed upon the ridges 
 of the island. He touched her and pointed out 
 over the water. The sun like a shield of spark- 
 ling gold had already buried half of its disc 
 beneath the horizon. They watched the re- 
 mainder grow gradually less and less until only 
 a thread of gold was on the water ; in another 
 instant this had dwindled away. ' I know now 
 how I should have felt,' he said with his eyes 
 fixed upon the blank horizon. 
 
 The girl looked out to that blank horizon 
 also. 
 
 Then from each fort on the cliffs there 
 leaped a little flash of light, and the roar of the 
 sunset guns made thunder all along the hollow 
 shore ; before the echoes had given back the 
 sound from the farthest cavern the faint bugle- 
 calls were borne out to the ocean as fort 
 answered fort all along that line of mountain- 
 wall. The girl listened until the faintest farthest 
 thin sound dwindled away just as the last touch 
 of sunhght had waned into blankness upon the 
 horizon.
 
 DAIREEN. 251 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Polonius. What treasure had he, my lord ? 
 
 Hamlet. Why, 
 
 ' One fair daughter and no more, 
 The which he loved passing well.' 
 
 O my old Mend, thy face is valanced since I saw thee 
 last. . . . What, my young lady and mistress ! By'r lady, your 
 ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last. . . . 
 You are all welcome. — Hamlet. 
 
 However varying, indefinite, and objectless the 
 thoughts of Daireen Gerald may have been — 
 and they certainly were — during the earlier 
 days of the voyage, they were undoubtedly 
 fixed and steadfast during the last week. She 
 knew that she could not hear anything of her 
 father until she would arrive at the Cape, and 
 so she had allowed herself to be buoyed up by 
 the hopeful conversation of the major and Mrs. 
 Crawford, who seemed to thmk of her meeting 
 with her father as a matter of certainty ; and 
 by the various little excitements of every day. 
 But now when she knew that upon what the
 
 252 DAIREEN. 
 
 next few clays would bring fortli all the 
 happiness of her future life depended, what 
 thougl:t — what prayer but one, could she have ? 
 
 She was certainly not good company during 
 these final days. Mr. Harwood never got a 
 word from her. Mr. Glaston did not make the 
 attempt, though he attributed her silence to 
 remorse at having neglected his artistic instruc- 
 tions. Major Crawford's gallantries received no 
 smiling recognition from her ; and Mrs. Craw- 
 ford's most motherly pieces of pathos went by 
 unheeded so far as Daireen was concerned. 
 
 What on earth was the matter, Mrs. Crawford 
 thought ; could it be possible that her worst 
 fears were realised? she asked herself; and 
 she made a vow that even if Mr. Harwood had 
 spoken a single word on the subject of affection 
 to Daireen, he should forfeit her own friendship 
 for ever. 
 
 ' My dear Daireen,' she said two days after 
 leaving St. Helena, 'you know I love you as a 
 daughter, and I have come to feel for you as a 
 mother might. I know something is the matter 
 — what is it ? you may confide in me ; indeed 
 you may.'
 
 DAIREEX. 253 
 
 ' How good you are ! ' said the child of this 
 adoption ; ' how very good ! You know all that 
 is the matter, though you have in your kindness 
 prevented me from feeling it hitherto.' 
 
 ' Good gracious, Daireen, you frighten me ! 
 No one can have been speaking to you, surely, 
 while I am your guardian ' 
 
 ' You know what a wretched doubt there is 
 in my mind now that I know a few days will 
 tell me all that can be told — you know the 
 terrible question that comes to me Bvery day — 
 every hour — shall I see him? — will he be — 
 alive?' 
 
 Even the young men, with no touches of 
 motherly pathos about them, had appreciated 
 the girl's feehngs in those days more readily 
 than Mrs. Crawford. 
 
 ' My poor dear little thing,' she now said, 
 fondling her in a way whose soothing effect the 
 combined effbrts of all the young men could 
 never have approached. ' Don't let the doubt 
 enter your mind for an instant — it positively 
 must not. Your father is as well as I am to- 
 day, I can assure you. Can you disbelieve me ? 
 I know him a great deal better than you do ;
 
 254 DAIREEN. 
 
 and I know the Cape climate better than you 
 do. Nonsense, my dear, no one ever dies at 
 the Cape — at least not when they go there to 
 recover. Now make your mind easy for the 
 next three days.' 
 
 But for just this interval poor Daireen's mind 
 was in a state of anything but repose. 
 
 During the last night the steamer would be 
 on the voyage she found it utterly impossible to 
 go to sleep. She heard all of the bells struck 
 from watch to watch. Her cabin became 
 stifling to her though a cool breeze was passing 
 through the opened port. She rose, dressed 
 herself, and went on deck, though it was about 
 two o'clock in the morning. It was a terrible 
 thing for a girl to do, but nothing could have 
 prevented Daireen's taking that step. She stood 
 just outside the door of the companion, and in 
 the moonlight and soft air of the sea more ease 
 of mind came to her than she had yet felt on 
 this voyage. 
 
 While she stood there in the moonlight 
 listening to the even whisperings of the water 
 as it parted away before the ship, and to the 
 fitful flights of the winged fish, she seemed to
 
 DAIREEX. 255 
 
 hear some order as she thought, given from the 
 forward part of the vessel. In another minute 
 the officer on watch hastened past her. She 
 heard him knock at the captain's cabin which 
 was just aft of the deck-house, and make the 
 report. 
 
 ' Fixed hght right ahead, sir.' 
 
 She knew then that the first glimpse of the 
 land which they were approaching had been 
 obtained, and her anxiety gave place to peace. 
 That message of the light seemed to be ominous 
 of good to her. She returned to her cabin, and 
 found it cool and tranquil, so that she fell asleep 
 at once ; and when she next opened her eyes she 
 saw a tall man standing with folded arms beside 
 her gazing at her. She gave but one little cry, 
 and then that long drooping white moustache of 
 his was down upon her face and her bare arms 
 were about his neck. 
 
 * Thank you, thank you, Dolly ; that is a 
 sufficiently close escape from strangulation to 
 make me respect your powers,' said the man ; and 
 at the sound of his voice Daireen tiu-ned her face 
 to her pillow, while the man shook out ^vith 
 spasmodic fingers his handkerchief fi:ora its folds
 
 256 DAIREEX. 
 
 and endeavoured to repair the injury done to his 
 moustache by the girl's embrace. 
 
 ' JSTow. now, my Dolly,' he said after some 
 convulsive mutterings which Daireen could of 
 course neither see nor hear ; ' now, now, don't 
 you think it might be as well to think of making 
 some apology for your laziness instead of trying 
 to go asleep again ? ' 
 
 Then she looked up with wondering eyes. 
 
 ' I don't understand anything at all,' she 
 cried. ' How could I go asleep when we were 
 within four hours of the Cape ? How could 
 anyone be so cruel as to let me sleep so dread- 
 fully ? It was wicked of me : it was quite 
 wicked.' 
 
 ' There's not the least question about the 
 enormity of the crime, I'm afraid,' he answered ; 
 ' only I think that Mrs. Crawford may be 
 responsible for a good deal of it, if her confession 
 to me may be depended upon. She told me 
 how you were — but never mind, I am the ill- 
 treated one in the matter, and I forgive you all.' 
 
 ' And we have actually been brought into 
 the dock ? ' 
 
 ' For the past half hour, my love ; and I
 
 DAIREEX. 257 
 
 have been waiting? for much loncjer. I crot the 
 telegram you sent to me by the last mail from 
 Madeira, so that I have been on the look-out for 
 the " Cardwell Castle " for a week. Now don't be 
 too hard on an old boy, Dolly, with all of those 
 questions I see on your lips. Here, I'll take 
 them in the lump, and think over them as I get 
 through a glass of brandy and water with Jack 
 Crawford and the Sylph — by George, to think of 
 your meeting with the poor old heartj Sylph — 
 ah, I forgot you never heard that we used to 
 call Mrs. Crawford the Sylph at our station 
 before you were born. There, now I have got 
 all your questions, my darhng — my own darling 
 little Dolly.' 
 
 She only gave him a little hug this time, and 
 he hastened up to the deck, where Mrs. Craw- 
 ford and her husband w^ere waiting for him. 
 
 ' Now, did I say anything more of her than 
 was the truth, George ? ' cried ]\Irs. Crawford so 
 soon as Colonel Gerald got on deck. 
 
 But Colonel Gerald smiled at her abstract- 
 edly and pulled fiercely at the ends of his 
 moustache. Then seeing Mr. Harwood at the 
 other side of the skylight, he ran over and shook 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 DAIREEN. 
 
 hands with him warmly ; and Harwood, who 
 fancied he understood something of the theory 
 of the expression of emotion in mankind, re- 
 frained from hinting to the colonel that they 
 had already had a chat together since the steamer 
 had come into dock. 
 
 Mrs. Crawford, however, was not particularly 
 well-pleased to find that her old friend George 
 Gerald had only answered her with that vague 
 smile, which implied nothing ; she knew that he 
 had been speaking for half an hour before with 
 Harwood, from whom he had heard the first 
 intelligence of his appointment to the Castaway 
 group. When Colonel Gerald, however, went 
 the length of rushing up to Doctor Campion and 
 violently shaking hands with him also, though 
 they had been in conversation together before, 
 the lady began to fear that the attack of fever 
 from which it was reported Daireen's father 
 had been suffering, had left its traces upon him 
 still. 
 
 ' Eather rum, by gad,' said the major when 
 his attention was called to his old comrade's be- 
 haviour. ' Just like the way a boy would behave 
 visiting his grandmother, isn't it ? Looks as if he
 
 DAIREEX. 259 
 
 were working off his feelings, doesn't it ? By gad, 
 lie's going back to Harwood ! ' 
 
 ' I thought he woidd,' said Mrs. Crawford. 
 ' Harwood can tell him all about his appoint- 
 ment. That's what George, like all the rest of 
 them nowadays, is anxious about. He for- 
 gets his child — he has no interest in her, I see.' 
 
 ' That's devilish bad, Kate, devilish bad ! 
 by Jingo ! But upon my soul, I was under the 
 impression that his wildness just now was the 
 effect of having been below with the kid.' 
 
 ' If he had the least concern about her, 
 would he not come to me when he knows very 
 well that I could tell him all about the voyage ? 
 But no, he prefers to remain by the side of the 
 special correspondent.' 
 
 ' No, he doesn't ; here he comes, and hang 
 me if he isn't going to shake hands with both of 
 us ! ' cried the major, as Colonel Gerald, recognis- 
 ing him, apparently for the first time, left Har- 
 wood's side and hastened across the deck with 
 extended hand. 
 
 ' George, dear old George,' said Mrs. Craw- 
 ford, reflecting upon the advantages usually 
 attributed to the concihatory method of treat- 
 s 2
 
 260 DAIREEN. 
 
 ment. 'Isn't it like the old time come back 
 again ? Here we stand together — Jack, Campion , 
 yourself and myself, just as we used to be in — 
 ah, it cannot have been '58 ! — yes, it was, good 
 gracious, '58 ! It seems like a dream.' 
 
 ' Exactly like a dream, by Jingo, my dear,* 
 said the major pensively, for he was thinking 
 what an auxiliary to the reahstic effect of the 
 scene a glass of brandy and water, or some other 
 Indian coohng drink, would be. ' Just like a 
 vision, you know, George, isn't it ? So if you'll 
 come to the smoking-room, we'll have that light 
 breakfast we were talking about.' 
 
 ' He won't go, major,' said the lady severely. 
 ' He wishes to have a talk with me about the 
 dear child. Don't you, George ? ' 
 
 'And about your dear self, Kate,' replied 
 Colonel Gerald in the Irish way that brought 
 back to the lady still more vividly all the old 
 memories of the happy station on the Hima- 
 layas. 
 
 'Ah, how like George that, isn't it.^' she 
 whispered to her husband. 
 
 'My dear girl, don't be a fool,' was the 
 parting request of the major as he strolled off to
 
 DAIREEX. 261 
 
 where the doctor was, he knew, waiting for some 
 sign that the brandy and water were amalga- 
 mating. 
 
 ' I'm glad that we are alone, George,' said 
 Mrs. Crawford, taking Colonel Gerald's arm. 
 ' We can talk together freely about the child — 
 about Daireen.' 
 
 ' And what have we to say about her, 
 Kate ? Can you give me any hints about her 
 temper, eh ? How she needs to be managed, 
 and that sort of thing ? You used to be capital 
 at that long ago.' 
 
 ' And I flatter myself that I can still tell all 
 about a girl after a single glance ; but, my dear 
 George, I never indeed knew what a truly 
 perfect nature was until I came to under- 
 stand Daireen. She is an angel, George.' 
 
 ' No,' said the colonel gently ; 'not Daireen 
 — she is not the angel ; but her face, when I 
 saw it just now upon its pillow, sent back all 
 my soul in thought of one — one who is — who 
 always was an angel — my good angel.' 
 
 ' That was my first thought too,' said Mrs. 
 Crawford. 'And her nature is the same. 
 Onl}' poor Daireen errs on the side of good-
 
 262 DAIREEN. 
 
 nature. She is a child in her simphcity of 
 thought about everyone she meets. She wants 
 some one near her who will be able to guide 
 her tastes in — in — well, in different matters. By 
 the way, you remember Austin Glaston, who was 
 chaplain for a while on the " Telemachus," and 
 who got made Bishop of the Salamanders ; well, 
 that is his son, that tall handsome young man — 
 I must present you. He is one of the most 
 distinguished men I ever met.' 
 
 ' Ah, indeed ? Does he write for a news- 
 paper ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, George, I am ashamed of you. No, 
 Mr. Glaston is a — a — an artist and a poet, 
 and — well he does nearly everything much 
 better than anyone else, and if you take my 
 advice you will give him an invitation to dinner, 
 and then you will find out all.' 
 
 Before Colonel Gerald could utter a word 
 he was brought face to face with Mr. Glaston, 
 and felt his grasp responded to by an aesthetic 
 pressure. 
 
 ' I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Glaston; 
 your father and I were old friends. If you are 
 staying at Cape Town, I hope you will not neglect
 
 DAIREEN. 263 
 
 to call upon my daughter and myself,' said the 
 colonel. 
 
 'You are extremely kind,' returned the 
 young man ; ' I shall be delighted.' 
 
 Thus Daireen on coming on deck found her 
 father in conversation with Mr. Glaston and 
 already acquainted with every member of Mrs. 
 Crawford's circle. 
 
 'Mr. Glaston has just promised to pay 
 you a visit on shore, my dear,' said the major's 
 wife, as she came up. 
 
 ' How very kind,' said Daireen. ' But can 
 he tell me where I live ashore, for no one has 
 thought fit to let me know anything about my- 
 self. I will never forgive you, Mrs. Crawford, 
 for ordering that I was not to be awakened this 
 morning. It was too cruel.' 
 
 ' Only to be kind, dear ; I knew what a 
 state of nervousness you were in.' 
 
 'And now of course,' continued the girl, 
 ' when I come on deck all the news will have 
 been told — even that secret about the Castaway 
 Islands.' 
 
 ' Heavens ! ' said the colonel, ' what about the 
 Castaway Islands ? Have they been submerged,
 
 264 DAIREEX. 
 
 or have they thrown off the British yoke al- 
 ready ? ' 
 
 ' I see you know all,' she said mournfully, 
 * and I had treasured up all that Mr. Harwood 
 said no one in the world but himself knew, to be 
 the first to tell you. And now, too, you know 
 everyone aboard except — ah, I have my secret 
 to tell at last. There he stands, and even you 
 don't remember him, papa. Come here, Stan- 
 dish, and let me present you. This, papa, is 
 Standish MacDermot, and he is coming out 
 with us now to wherever we are to live.' 
 
 ' Good gracious, Daireen ! ' cried Mrs. Craw- 
 ford. 
 
 ' What, Standish, prince of Innishdermot ! ' 
 said the colonel. * My dear boy, I am dehghted 
 to welcome you to this strange place. I remem- 
 ber you when your curls were a good deal 
 longer, my boy.' 
 
 Poor Standish, who was no longer in his 
 sailor's jacket, but in the best attire his Dublin 
 tailor could provide, blushed most painfully as 
 everyone gazed at him — everyone with the 
 exception of Daireen, who was gazing anxiously
 
 DAIREEX. 265 
 
 around the deck as though she expected to see 
 some one still. 
 
 ' This is certainly a secret,' murmured Mrs. 
 Crawford. 
 
 ' Now, Daireen, to the shore,' said Colonel 
 Gerald. ' You need not say good-bye to anyone 
 here. Mrs. Crawford will be out to dine with us 
 to-morrow. She will bring the major and Doctor 
 Campion, and Mr. Harwood says he will ride 
 one of my horses till he gets his own. So 
 there need be no tears. My man will look 
 after the luggage while I drive you out.' 
 
 ' I must get my bftg from my cabin,' Daireen 
 said, going slowly towards the companion. In 
 a few moments she re-appeared with her dress- 
 ing-bag, and gave another searchuig glance 
 around the deck. 
 
 ' Now,' she said, ' I am ready.'
 
 266 DAIREEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Something have you heard 
 Of Hamlet's transformation ; so call it — 
 . . . What it should be . . . 
 I cannot dream of . . , 
 
 . . . gather 
 So much as from occasion you may glean 
 Whether auofht to us unknown afflicts him. 
 
 At night we'll feast together : 
 Most welcome home ! 
 
 Most fair retui-n of greetings. — Hamlet. 
 
 ' What an extraordinary afiair ! ' said Mrs. 
 Crawford, turning from where slie had been 
 watching the departure of the colonel and his 
 daughter and that tall handsome young friend 
 of theirs whom they had called Standish Mac- 
 Dermot. 'I would not have believed it of 
 Daireen. Standish MacDermot — what a dread- 
 ful Irish name ! But where can he have been 
 aboard the ship ? He cannot have been one of 
 those terrible fore-cabin passengers. Ah, I
 
 DAIREEX. 267 
 
 would not have believed her capable of such dis- 
 ingenuousness. Who is this young man, Jack ? ' 
 
 ' My dear girl, never mind the young man 
 or the young woman just now. We must look 
 after the traps and get them through the 
 Custom-house,' rephed the major. 
 
 ' Mr. Harwood, who is this young man with 
 the terrible Irish name ? ' she asked in despera- 
 tion of the special correspondent. She felt 
 indeed in an extremity when she sought Har- 
 wood for an ally. 
 
 ' I never was so much astonished in all my 
 hfe,' he whispered in answer. ' I never heard 
 of him. She never breathed a word about him 
 to me.' 
 
 Mrs. Crawford did not think this at all 
 improbable, seeing that Daireen had never 
 breathed a word about him to herself. 
 
 ' My dear Mr. Harwood, these Irish are too 
 romantic for us. It is impossible for us ever to 
 understand them.' And she hastened away to 
 look after her luofcraore. It was not until she 
 
 CD O 
 
 was quite alone that she raised her hands, 
 exclaiming devoutly, ' Thank goodness Mr. 
 Glaston had gone before this second piece of
 
 268 DAIREEN. 
 
 romance was disclosed ! What on earth would 
 he have thought ! ' 
 
 The reflection made the lady shudder. Mr. 
 Glaston's thoughts, if he had been present while 
 Daireen was bringing forward this child of 
 mystery, Standish MacDermot, would, she knew, 
 have been too terrible to be contemplated. 
 
 As for Mr. Harwood, though he professed 
 to be affected by nothing that occurred about 
 him, still he felt himself uncomfortably surprised 
 by the sudden appearance of the young Irishman 
 with whom Miss Gerald and her father appeared 
 to be on such famihar terms; and as he stood look- 
 mg up to that marvellous hill in whose shadow 
 Caj)e Town lies, he came to the conclusion that 
 it would be as well for him to find out all that 
 could be known about this Standish MacDermot. 
 He had promised Daireen's father to make use 
 of one of his horses so long as he would remain 
 at the Cape, and it appeared from all he could 
 gather that the affairs in the colony were be- 
 coming sufficiently complicated to compel 
 his remaining here instead of hastening out to 
 make his report of the Castaway group. The 
 British nation were of course burning to hear
 
 DAIREEX. 269 
 
 all that could be told about the new island 
 colony, but Mr. Harwood knew very well that the 
 heading which would be given in the columns 
 of the ' Dominant Trumpeter ' to any informa- 
 tion reorardincf the attitude of the defiant Kafir 
 chief would be in very much larger type than 
 that of the most flowery paragraph descriptive 
 of the charms of the Castaway group ; and so he 
 had almost made up his mind that it would be to 
 the advantage of the newspaper that he should 
 stay at the Cape. Of course he felt that he had 
 at heart no fiu-ther interests, and so long as it 
 was not conflicting with those interests he would 
 ride Colonel Gerald's horse, and, perhaps, walk 
 with Colcnel Gerald's daughter. 
 
 But all the time that he was reflecting in this 
 consistent manner the colonel and his daughter 
 and Standish were driving along the base of 
 Table Mountain, while on the other side the 
 blue waters of the lovely bay were sparklin^y 
 between the low shores of pure white sand, 
 and far away the dim mountain ridges were 
 seen. 
 
 ' Shall I ever come to know that mountain 
 and all about it as well as I know our own dear
 
 270 DAIREEN. 
 
 Slieve Docas ? ' cried the girl, looking around 
 her. ' Will you, do you think, Standish ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing here can compare with our Irish 
 land,' cried Standish. 
 
 'You are right my boy,' said Daireen's 
 father. ' I have knocked about a good deal, 
 and I have seen a good many places, and, after 
 all, I have come to the conclusion that our own 
 Suangorm is worth all that I have seen for 
 beauty.' 
 
 'We can all sympathise with each other 
 here,' said the girl laughing. 'We will join 
 hands and say that there is no place in the 
 world like our Ireland, and then, maybe, the 
 strans^ers here will believe us.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said her father, ' we will think of our- 
 selves in the midst of a strange country as three 
 representatives of the greatest nation in the 
 world. Eh, Standish, that would please your 
 father.' 
 
 But Standish could not make any answer to 
 this allusion to his father. He was in fact just 
 now wondering what Colonel Gerald would say 
 when he would hear that Standish had travelled 
 six thousand miles for the sake of obtaining his
 
 DAIEEEX. 271 
 
 advice as to the prudence of entertaining the 
 thought of leaving home. Standish was beginning 
 to fear that there was a flaw somewhere in the 
 consistency of the step he had taken, compH- 
 mentary though it undoubtedly was to the 
 judgment of Colonel Gerald. He could hardly 
 define the inconsistency of which he was con- 
 scious, but as the phaeton drove rapidly along 
 the red road beside the high peak of the moun- 
 tain he became more deeply impressed with 
 the fact that it existed somewhere. ^ 
 
 Passing along great hedges of cactus and 
 prickly-pear, and by the side of some well- 
 wooded grounds with acres of trim green vine- 
 yards, the phaeton jDroceeded for a few miles. 
 The scene was strange to Daireen and Standish ; 
 only for the consciousness of that towering peak 
 they were grateful. Even though its slope was 
 not swathed in heather, it still resembled in its 
 outline the great Sheve Docas, and this was 
 enough to make them feel while passing 
 beneath it that it was a landmark breathing of 
 other days. Half way up the ascent they could 
 see in a ravine a large grove of the silver-leaf 
 fir, and the sun-glints among the exquisite white
 
 272 DAIREEK 
 
 foliage were very lovely. Further down the 
 mighty aloes threw forth their thick green 
 branches in graceful divergence, and then along 
 the road were numerous bullock waggons with 
 Malay drivers — eighteen or twenty animals 
 running in a team. Nothing could have added 
 to the strangeness of the scene to the girl and 
 her companion, and yet the shadow of that 
 great hill made the land seem no longer 
 weary. 
 
 At last, just at the foot of the hill, Colonel 
 Gerald turned his horses to where there was a 
 broad rough avenue made through a grove of 
 pines, and after following its curves for some 
 distance, a broad cleared space was reached, 
 beyond which stood a number of magnificent 
 Australian oaks and fruit trees surrounding 
 a long low Dutch-built house with an over- 
 hanging roof and the usual stoep — the raised 
 stone border — in front. 
 
 'This is our house, my darhng,' said the 
 girl's father as he pulled up at the door. ' I 
 had only a week to get it in order for you, but 
 I hope you will like it.' 
 
 ' Like it? ' she cried ; ' it is lovelier than any
 
 DAIREEX. 273 
 
 we had in India, and then the hill — the hill — 
 oh, papa, this is home indeed.' 
 
 ' And for me, my own little Dolly, don't you 
 think it is home too ? ' he said when he had 
 his arms about her in the hall. ' With this face 
 in my hands at last I feel all the joy of home 
 that has been denied to me for years. How 
 often have I seen your face, Dolly, as I sat with 
 my coffee in the evening in my lonely bungalow 
 under the palms ? The sight of it used to 
 cheer me night after night, darhng, but now 
 that I have it here — here ' 
 
 ' Keep it there,' she cried. ' Oh, papa, 
 papa, why should we be miserable apart ever 
 again ? I will stay with you now wherever 
 you go for ever.' 
 
 Colonel Gerald looked at her for a minute, 
 he kissed her once again upon the face, and 
 then burst into a laugh. 
 
 ' And this is the only result of a voyage 
 made under the protection of Mrs. Crawford ! ' 
 he said. ' My dear, you must have used some 
 charm to have resisted her power ; or has she 
 lost her ancient cunning ? Why, after a 
 voyage with Mrs. Crawford I have seen the 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 DAIREEN. 
 
 most devoted daughters desert their parents. 
 When I heard that you were coming out with 
 her I feared you would allow yourself to be 
 schooled by her into a sense of your duty, but 
 it seems you have been stubborn.' 
 
 ' She was everything that is kind to me, 
 and I don't know what I should have done 
 without her,' said the girl. ' Only, I'll never 
 forgive her for not having awakened me to 
 meet you this morning. But last night I 
 suppose she thought I was too nervous. I was 
 afraid, you know, lest — lest — but never mind, 
 here we are together at home — for there is the 
 hill — yes, at home.' 
 
 But when Daireen found herself in the 
 room to which she had been shown by the neat 
 little handmaiden provided by Colonel Gerald, 
 and had seated herself in sight of a bright 
 green cactus that occupied the centre of the 
 garden outside, she had much to think about. 
 She just at this moment reahsed that all her 
 pleasant life aboard the steamer was at an end. 
 More than a touch of sadness was in her reflection, 
 for she had come to think of the good steamer 
 as something more than a mere machine ; it had
 
 DAIREEN. 275 
 
 been a home to her for twenty-five days, 
 and it had contained her happiness and sor- 
 row during that time as a home would have 
 done. Then how could she have parted from 
 it an hour before with so little concern ? she 
 asked herself. How could she have left it 
 without shaking hands with — with all those 
 who had been by her «ide for many days on 
 the good old ship ? Some she had said good- 
 bye to, others she would see again on the 
 following day, but still there were some whom 
 she had left the ship without seeing — some who 
 had been associated with her happiness during 
 part of the voyage, at any rate, and she might 
 never see them again. The reflection made 
 her very sad, nor did the feeling pass off during 
 the rest of the day spent by her father's side. 
 
 The day was very warm, and, as Daireen's 
 father was still weak, he did not stray away 
 from the house beyond the avenue of shady 
 oaks leading down to a little stream that moved 
 sluggishly on its way a couple of hundred yards 
 from the garden. They had, of coiurse, plenty 
 to talk about; for Colonel Gerald was some- 
 what anxious to hear how his friend Standish 
 
 T 2
 
 276 DAIREEN. 
 
 had come out. He had expressed the happiness 
 he felt on meeting with the young man as soon 
 as his daughter had said that he would go out 
 to wherever they were to live, but he thought 
 it would increase his satisfaction if his daughter 
 would tell him how it came to pass that this 
 young man was unacquainted with any of the 
 passengers. 
 
 Daireen now gave him the entire history of 
 Standish's quarrel with his father, and declared 
 that it was solely to obtain the advice of Colonel 
 Gerald he had made the voyage from Ireland. 
 
 The girl's father laughed when he heard of 
 this characteristic action on the part of the young 
 man ; but he declared that it proved he meant 
 to work for himself in the world, and not be 
 content to live upon the traditions of The Mac- 
 Dermots ; and then he promised the girl that 
 something should be done for the sou of the 
 hereditary prince.
 
 DAIREEX. 277 
 
 CHAPTEE XXI. 
 
 The nights are wholesome ; 
 
 No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, 
 
 So hallowed and so grracious is the time. 
 
 What, has this thing appeared again to-night ? — Hamlet. 
 
 When evening came Daireen and her father sat 
 out upon their chairs on the stoep in front of 
 the house. The sun had for long been hidden 
 by the great peak, though to the rest of the 
 world not under its shadow he had only just sunk. 
 The twilight was very different from the last 
 she had seen on land, when the mighty Slieve 
 Docas had appeared in his purple robe. Here 
 the twihght was brief and darkly blue as it 
 overhung the arched aloes and those large palm 
 plants whose broad leaves waved not in the 
 least breeze. Far in the mellow distance a 
 large star was glitterhig, and the only sound in 
 the air was the shrill whistle of one of the Cape 
 field crickets.
 
 278 DAIREEN. 
 
 Then began the struggle between moonhght 
 and darkness. The leaves of the boughs that 
 were clasped above the little river began to be 
 softly silvered as the influence of the rising 
 hght made itself apparent, and then the highest 
 ridges of the hill gave back a flash as the beams 
 shot through the air. 
 
 These changes were felt by the girl sitting 
 silently beside her father — the changes of the 
 twihght and of the moonlight, before the full 
 round shield of the orb appeared above the 
 trees, and the white beams fell around the 
 broad floating leaves beneath her feet. 
 
 ' Are you tired, Dolly ? ' asked her father. 
 
 ' Not in the least, papa ; it seems months 
 since I was at sea.' 
 
 ' Then you will ride with me for my usual 
 hour? I find it suits me better to take an 
 hour's exercise in the cool of the evening.' 
 
 ' Nothing could be loveher on such an even- 
 ing,' she cried. ' It will complete our day's 
 happiness.' 
 
 She hastened to put on her habit while her 
 father went round to the stables to give direc- 
 tions to the groom regarding the saddUng of a
 
 DAIREEX. 279 
 
 certain little Arab which had been bought 
 within the week. In a short time Standish was 
 left to gaze in admiration at the fine seat of the 
 old officer in his saddle, and in rapture at the 
 delicately shaped figure of the girl, as they 
 trotted down the avenue between those strange 
 trees. 
 
 They disappeared among the great leaves ; 
 and when the sound of their horses' hoofs had 
 died away, Standish, sitting there upon the 
 raised ground in front of the house, had his own 
 hour of thought. He felt that he had hitherto 
 not accomphshed much in his career of labour. 
 He had had an idea that there were a good 
 many of the elements of heroism in joining 
 as he did the vessel in which the girl was going 
 abroad. Visions of wrecks, of fires, of falhngs 
 overboard, nay of pirates even, had floated 
 before his mind, with himself as the only 
 one near to save the girl from each threatening 
 calamity. He had heard of such things taking 
 place daily, and he was prepared to risk himself 
 for her sake, and to account himself happy if 
 the chance of protecting her should occur. 
 
 But so soon as he had been a few days at
 
 280 DAIREEN. 
 
 sea, and had found that such a thing as danger 
 was not even hinted at any more than it would 
 be in a drawing-room on shore — when in fact 
 he saw how hke a drawing-room on shore 
 was the quarter-deck of the steamer, he began 
 to be disappointed. Daireen was surrounded 
 by friends who would, if there might chance to 
 be the least appearance of danger, resent his 
 undertaking to save the girl whom he loved 
 with every thought of his soul. He would not, 
 in fact, be permitted to play the part of the hero 
 that his imagination had marked out for himself. 
 
 Yes, he felt that the heroic elements in his 
 position aboard the steamer had somehow 
 dwindled down to a minimum ; and now here 
 he had been so weak as to allow himself to be 
 induced to come out to live, even though only 
 for a short time, at this house. He felt that his 
 acceptance of the sisterly friendship of the girl 
 was making it daily more impossible for him 
 to kneel at her feet, as he meant one day to 
 do, and beg of her to accept of some heroic 
 work done on her behalf. 
 
 ' She is worthy of all that a man could do 
 with all his soul,' Standish cried as he stood
 
 DAIKEEX. 281 
 
 there in the moonlight. But ^vhat can I 
 do for her ? What can I do for her ? Oh, I 
 am the most miserable wretch in the whole 
 world ! ' 
 
 This was not a very satisfactory conclusion 
 for him to come to ; but on the whole it did 
 not cause him much despondency. In his 
 Irit>h nature there were almost unlimited re- 
 sources of hope, and it would have required a 
 large number of reverses of fortune to cast 
 him down utterly. 
 
 While he was trying in vain to make him- 
 self feel as miserable as he knew his situation 
 demanded him to be, Daireen and her father 
 were riding along the road that leads from 
 Cape Town to the districts of Wynberg and 
 Constantia. They went along through the 
 moonlight beneath the splendid avenue of 
 Australian oaks at the old Dutch district of 
 Eondebosch, and then they turned aside into a 
 narrow lane of cactus and prickly pear which 
 brought them to that great sandy plain densely 
 overgrown ^vith blossoming heath and gorse 
 called The Flats, along which they galloped for 
 seme miles. Turning their horses into the road
 
 282 DAIREEN. 
 
 once more, they then walked them back towards 
 their house at Mowbray. 
 
 Daireen felt that she had never before so 
 enjoyed a ride. All was so strange. That hill 
 whose peak was once again towering above 
 them ; that long dark avenue with the myriads 
 of fire-flies sparkling amongst the branches ; the 
 moonlight that was flooding the world outside ; 
 and then her companion, her father, whose face 
 she had been dreaming over daily and nightly. 
 She had never before so enjoyed a ride. 
 
 They had gone some distance through the 
 oak avenue when they turned their horses 
 aside at the entrance to one of the large vine- 
 yards that are planted in such neat lines up the 
 sloping ground. 
 
 'Well, Dolly, are you satisfied at last?' 
 said Colonel Gerald, looking into the girl's face 
 that the moonhght was glorifying, though here 
 and there the shadow of a leaf fell upon her. 
 
 ' Satisfied ! Oh, it is all like a dream,' she 
 said. 'A strange dream of a strange place. 
 When I think that a month ago I was so dif- 
 ferent, I feel inchned to — to — ask you to kiss 
 me again, to make sure I am not dreaming.'
 
 DAIREEN. 283 
 
 * If you are under the impression that you 
 are a sleeping beauty, dear, and that you can 
 only be roused by that means, I have no ob- 
 jection.' 
 
 ' Now I am sure it is all reality,' she said 
 with a httle laugh. 'Oh, papa, I am so 
 happy. Could anything disturb our happi- 
 ness ? ' 
 
 Suddenly upon the dark avenue behind 
 them there came the faint sound of a horse's 
 hoof, and then of a song sung carelessly through 
 the darkness — one she had heard before. 
 
 The singer was evidently approaching on 
 horseback, for the last notes were uttered just 
 opposite where the girl and her father were 
 standing their horses behind the trees at the 
 entrance to the vineyard. The singer too 
 seemed to have reined in at this point, though 
 of course he could not see either of the others, 
 the branches were so close. Daireen was mute 
 while that air was being sung, and in another 
 instant she became aware of a horse being 
 pushed between the trees a few yards from her. 
 There was only a small space to pass, so she 
 and her father backed their horses round and
 
 284 DAIREEN. 
 
 the motion made the stranger start, for he had 
 not perceived them before. 
 
 ' I beg you will not move on my account. 
 I did not know there was anyone here, or I 
 should not have ' 
 
 The light fell upon the girl's face, and her 
 father saw the stranger give another little 
 start. 
 
 ' You need not make an apology to us, Mr. 
 Markham,' said Daireen. 'We had hidden 
 ourselves, I know. Papa, this is Mr. Oswin 
 Markham. How odd it is that we should meet 
 here upon the first evening of landing ! The 
 Cape is a good deal larger than the quarter- 
 deck of the " Cardwell Castle." ' 
 
 ' You were a passenger, no doubt, aboard 
 the steamer my daughter came out in, Mr. 
 Markham ? * said Colonel Gerald. 
 
 Mr. Markham laughed. 
 
 ' Upon my word I hardly know that I am 
 entitled to call myself a passenger,' he said. 
 ' Can you define my position. Miss Gerald ? it 
 was something very uncertain. I am a cast- 
 away — a waif that was picked up in a half- 
 drowned condition from a broken mast in the
 
 DAIREEX. 285 
 
 Atlantic, and sheltered aboard the hospitable 
 vessel.' 
 
 ' It is very rarely that a steamer is so fortu- 
 nate as to save a life in that way,' said Colonel 
 Gerald. 'Sailing vessels have a much better 
 chance.' 
 
 ' To me it seems almost a miracle — a Ions 
 chain of coincidences was necessary for my 
 rescue, and yet every link was perfect to the 
 end.' 
 
 • It is upon threads our lives are constantly 
 hanging,* said the colonel, backing his horse 
 upon the avenue. ' Do you remain long in the 
 colony, Mr. Markham ? ' he asked ^vhen they 
 were standing in a group at a place where the 
 moonlight broke through the branches. 
 
 ' I think I shall have to remain for some 
 weeks,' he answered. ' Campion tells me I 
 must not think of going to England until the 
 violence of the wmter there is past.' 
 
 ' Then we shall doubtless have the pleasure 
 of meeting you frequently. We have a cottage 
 at Mowbray, where we would be delighted to 
 see you. By the way, Mrs. Crawford and a few 
 of my other old friends are coming out to dine
 
 286 DAIREEN. 
 
 with us to-morrow, ray daughter and myself 
 would be greatly pleased if you could join 
 us.' 
 
 ' You are exceedingly kind,' said Mr. Mark- 
 ham. ' I need scarcely say how happy I will 
 be.' 
 
 ' Our little circle on board the good old 
 ship is not yet to be dispersed, you see, Mr. 
 Markham,' said Daireen with a laugh. 'For 
 once again, at any rate, we will be all to- 
 gether.' 
 
 ' For once again,' he repeated as he raised 
 his hat, the girl's horse and her father's having 
 turned. ' For once again, till when goodbye. 
 Miss Gerald.' 
 
 ' Goodbye, Mr. Markham,' said the colonel. 
 ' By the way, we dine early I should have told 
 you — half past six.' 
 
 Markham watched them ride along the 
 avenue and reappear in the moonlight space 
 beyond. Then he dropped the bridle on his 
 horse's neck and listlessly let the animal nibble 
 at the leaves on the side of the road for a long 
 time. At last he seemed to start into con- 
 sciousness of everything. He gathered up the
 
 DAIREEN. 287 
 
 bridle and brought the horse back to the 
 avenue. 
 
 ' It is Fate or Providence or God this time,' 
 he muttered as if for his own satisfaction. ' I 
 have had no part in the matter ; I have not so 
 much as raised my hand for this, and yet it has 
 come.' 
 
 He walked his horse back to Cape Town in 
 the moonhght. 
 
 ' I don't think you mentioned this ^Ir. 
 Markham's name to me, Dolly,' said Colonel 
 Gerald as they returned to Mowbray. 
 
 ' I don't think I did, papa ; but you see he 
 had gone ashore when I came on deck to you 
 this morning, and I did not suppose we should 
 ever meet again.' 
 
 ' I hope you do not object to my asking 
 him to dinner, dear ? ' 
 
 ' I object, papa ? Oh, no, no ; I never felt 
 so glad at anything. He does not talk affectedly 
 hke Mr. Glaston, nor cleverly like Mr. Harwood, 
 so I prefer him to either of them. And then, 
 think of his being for a week tossing about the 
 Atlantic upon that wreck/ 
 
 ' All very good reasons for asking him to
 
 288 DATREEN. 
 
 dine to-morrow,' said her father. ' Now sup- 
 pose we try a trot.' 
 
 ' I would rather walk if it is the same to 
 you, papa,' she said. ' I don't feel equal to 
 another trot now.' 
 
 • Why, surely, you have not allowed yourself 
 to become tired, Daireen? Yes, my dear, you 
 look it. I should have remembered that you 
 are just off the sea. We will go gently home, 
 and you will get a good sleep.' 
 
 They did go very gently, and silently too, 
 and in a short time Daireen was lying on her 
 bed, thinkinoj not of the strano^e moonlis^ht 
 wonders of her ride, but of that five minutes 
 spent upon the avenue of Australian oaks down 
 which had echoed that song. 
 
 It seemed that poor Mrs. Crawford was 
 destined to have enigmas of the most various 
 sorts thrust upon her for her solution ; at any 
 rate she regarded the presence of ]\Ir. Oswin 
 Markham at Colonel Crawford's little dinner 
 the next, evening as a question as puzzling as 
 the mysterious appearance of the young man 
 called Standish MacDermot. She, however, 
 chatted with Mr. Markham as usual, and
 
 DAIREEX. 289 
 
 learned that he also was going to a certam 
 garden party which was to be held at Govern- 
 ment House in a few days. 
 
 ' And you will come too, Daireen ? ' she said. 
 ' You must come, for Mr. Glaston has been so 
 good as to promise to exhibit in one of the 
 rooms a few of his pictiures he spoke to us 
 about. How kind of him, isn't it, to try and 
 educate the taste of the colony ? The bishop 
 has not yet arrived at the Cape, but Mr. Glaston 
 says he will wait for him for a fortnight.' 
 
 ' For a fortnight ? Such fihal devotion will 
 no doubt bring its own reward,' said Mr. Har- 
 wood. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 290 DAIREEN. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXn. 
 
 Being remiss, 
 Most generous and free from all contriving. 
 
 A heart unfortified, 
 
 An understanding simple and unschooled. 
 
 A. violet in the youth of primy nature. 
 
 'tis most sweet 
 When in one line two crafts directlv meet. 
 
 Soft, — let me see : — 
 We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings. — Hamlet. 
 
 The band of the gallant Bayonetteers was 
 making the calm air of Government House 
 gardens melodious with the strains of an 
 entrancing German valse not more than a year 
 old, which had convulsed society at Cape Town 
 when introduced a few weeks previously ; for 
 society at Cape Town, like society everywhere 
 else, professes to understand everything artistic, 
 even to the delicacies of German dance music. 
 The evening was soft and sunny, while the effect
 
 DAIREEN. 291 
 
 of a very warm day drawing near its close was 
 to be seen everywhere around. The broad 
 leaves of the feathery plants were hanging dry 
 and languid across the walks, and the grass was 
 becoming tawny as that on the Lion's Head — that 
 strangely curved hill beside Table Mountain. 
 The giant aloes and plantains were, however, 
 defiant of the heat and spread their leaves out 
 mightily as ever. 
 
 The gardens are always charming in the 
 southern spring, but never so charming as w^hen 
 their avenues are crowded with cooUy dressed 
 girls of moderate degrees of prettiness whose 
 voices are dancing to the melody of a German 
 valse not more than a year old. How charming 
 it is to discuss all the absorbing colonial ques- 
 tions — such as how the beautiful Van der Veldt 
 is looking this evening; and if Miss Van Schmidt, 
 whose papa belongs to the Legislative Council 
 and is consequently a voice in the British 
 Empire, has really carried out his threat of 
 writing home to the War Office to demand the 
 dismissal of that young Mr. Westbiuy fi:om the 
 corps of Eoyal Engineers on account of his 
 conduct towards Miss Van Schmidt ; or perhaps 
 u 2
 
 292 DAIREEN. 
 
 a question of art, such as how the general's 
 daughters contrive to have Paris bonnets several 
 days previous to the arrival of the mail with 
 the patterns ; or a question of diplomacy, such as 
 whether His Excellency's private secretary will 
 see his way to making that proposal to the 
 second eldest daughter of one of the Supreme 
 Court judges. There is no colony in the world 
 so devoted to discussions of this nature as the 
 Cape, and in no part of the colony may a dis- 
 cussion be carried out with more spirit than in 
 the gardens around Government House. 
 
 But upon the afternoon of this garden party 
 there was an unusual display of colonial beauty 
 and colonial young men — the two are never 
 found in conjunction — and English dehcacy 
 and Dutch gaucherie, for the spring had been 
 unusually damp, and this was the first garden 
 party day that was declared perfect. There 
 were, of course, numbers of officers, the mihtary 
 with their wives — such as had wives, and the 
 naval with other people's mves, each branch of 
 the service grumbling at the other's luck in this 
 respect. And then there were sundry civil ser- 
 vants of exalted rank — commissioners of newly
 
 DAIKEEN. ^ 293 
 
 founded districts, their wives and daughters, 
 and a \)rsice of good colonial bishops also, with 
 their partners in their mission labours, none of 
 whom objected to Waldteufel or Gung'l. 
 
 On the large lawn in front of the balcony 
 at the Eesidence there was a good deal of tennis 
 being played, and upon the tables laid out on 
 the balcony there were a good many tran- 
 sactions in the way of brandy and soda carried 
 on by special commissioners and field officers, 
 whose prerogative it was to discuss the attitude 
 of the belligerent Kafir chief who, it was 
 supposed, intended to give as much trouble as 
 he could without inconvenience to himself And 
 then from shady places all around the avenues 
 came the soimds of girhsh laughter and the 
 glimmer of mushn. Behind this scene the 
 great flat-faced, flat-roofed mountain stood 
 dark and bold, and through it all the band of the 
 Bayonetteers brayed out that inspiriting valse. 
 
 Major Crawford was, in consequence of 
 the importance of his mission to the colony, 
 pointed out to the semi-Dutch legislators, 
 each of whom had much to tell him on the 
 burning boot question ; and Mr. Harwood was.
 
 294 DAIKEEN. 
 
 naturally enougli, regarded with interest, for the 
 sounds of the ' Dominant Trumpeter ' go forth 
 into all the ends of the earth. Mr. Glaston, too, as 
 son of the Metropolitan of the Salamander Archi- 
 pelago, was entitled to every token of respectful 
 admiration, even if he had not in the fulness of 
 his heart allowed a few of his pictures to be 
 hung in one of the reception rooms. But 
 perhaps Daireen Gerald had more eyes fixed 
 upon her than anyone in the gardens. 
 
 Everyone knew that she was the daughter 
 of Colonel Gerald who had just been gazetted 
 Governor-General of the new colony of the 
 Castaway Islands, but why she had come out 
 to the Cape no one seemed to know exactly. 
 Many romances were related to account for 
 her appearance, the Cape Town people possess- 
 ing almost unlimited resources in the way of 
 romance making ; but as no pains were taken ta 
 bring about a coincidence of stories, it was im- 
 possible to say who was in the right. 
 
 She was dressed so perfectly according to Mr. 
 Glaston's theories of harmony that he could 
 not refrain from congratulating her — or rather 
 commending her — upon her good taste, though
 
 DAIREEX. 295 
 
 it struck Daireen that there was not much good 
 taste in his commendation. He remained by 
 her side for some time lamenting the degrada- 
 tion of the colony in being shut out from Art 
 — the only world worth hving in, as he said ; 
 then Daireen found herself with some other 
 people to whom she had been presented, and 
 who were anxious to present her to some rela- 
 tions. 
 
 The girl's dress was looked at by most of 
 the colonial young ladies, and her figure was 
 gazed at by all of the men, until it was gener- 
 ally understood that to have made the ac- 
 quaintance of Miss Gerald was a happiness 
 gained. 
 
 ' My dear George,' said Mrs. Crawford to 
 Colonel Gerald when she had contrived to 
 draw him to her side at a secluded part of the 
 gardens, — ' My dear George, she is far more of 
 a success than even I myself anticipated. Why, 
 the darling child is the centre of all attraction.' 
 
 ' Poor httle Dolly ! that is not a very dizzy 
 point to reach at the Cape, is it, Kate ? ' 
 
 'Now don't be provoking, George. We all 
 know well enough, of course, that it is here the
 
 296 DAIREEN. 
 
 same as at any place else : the latest arrival 
 has the charni of novelty. But it is not so in 
 Daireen's case. I can see at once — and I am 
 sure you will give me credit for some power of 
 perception in these things — that she has cre- 
 ated a genuine impression. George, you may 
 depend on her receiving particular attention on 
 all sides.' The lady's voice lowered confiden- 
 tially until her last sentence had in it something 
 of the tone of a revelation. 
 
 ' That will make the time pass in a rather 
 lively way for Dolly,' said George, pulhng his 
 long iron-grey moustache as he smiled thought- 
 fully, looking into Mrs. Crawford's face. 
 
 'Now, George, you must fully recognise 
 the great responsibility resting with you — I 
 certainly feel how much devolves upon myself, 
 being as I am, her father's oldest friend in the 
 colony, and having had the dear child in my 
 care during the voyage.' 
 
 'Nothing could be stronger than your 
 claims.' 
 
 ' Then is it not natural that I should feel 
 anxious about her, George ? This is not India, 
 you must remember.'
 
 DAIREEN. 297 
 
 'No, no,' said the colonel thoughtfully; 
 * it's not India.' He was trying to grasp the 
 exact thread of reasoning his old friend was 
 using in her argument. He could not at once 
 see why the fact of Cape Town not being situ- 
 ated in the Empire of Hindustan should cause 
 one's responsible duties to increase in severity. 
 
 ' You know what I mean, George. In 
 India marriage is marriage, and a certain good, 
 no matter who is concerned in it. It is one's 
 duty there to get a girl married, and there is 
 no blame to be attached to one if everything 
 doesn't turn out exactly as one could have 
 wished.' 
 
 ' Ah, yes, exactly,' said the colonel, begin- 
 ning to comprehend. ' But I think you have 
 not much to reproach yourself with, Kate ; 
 almost every mail brought you out an instal- 
 ment of the youth and beauty of home, and I 
 don't think that one ever missed fire — failed to 
 go off, you know.' 
 
 'Well, yes, I may say I was fortunate, 
 George,' she replied, with a smile of reflective 
 satisfaction. ' But this is not India, George ; 
 we must be very careful. I observed Daireen
 
 298 DAIREEN. 
 
 carefully on the voyage, and I can safely say 
 that the dear child has yet formed no attach- 
 ment.' 
 
 ' Formed an attachment? You mean — oh 
 Kate, the idea is too absurd,' said Colonel 
 Gerald. ' Why, she is a child — a baby.' 
 
 'Of course all fathers think such things 
 about their girls,' said the lady with a pity- 
 ing smile. 'They understand their boys well 
 enough, and take good care to make them 
 begin to work not a day too late, but their girls 
 are all babies. Why, George, Daireen must be 
 nearly twenty.' 
 
 Colonel Ger^d was thoughtful for some 
 moments. 'So she is,' he said; 'but she is 
 still quite a baby.' 
 
 'Even so,' said the lady, 'a baby's tastes 
 should be turned in the right direction. By 
 the way, I have been asked frequently who is 
 this young Mr. MacDermot who came out to 
 you in such a peculiar fashion. People are 
 beginning to talk curiously about him.' 
 
 ' As people at the Cape do about everyone,' 
 said the colonel. 'Poor Standish might at 
 least have escaped criticism.'
 
 DAIREEN. 299 
 
 'I scarcely think so, George, considering 
 how he came out.' 
 
 ' Well, it was rather what people who do not 
 understand us call an Irish idea. Poor boy ! ' 
 
 ' Who is he, George ? ' 
 
 ' The son of one of oiu: oldest friends. The 
 friendship has existed between his family and 
 mine for some himdreds of years.' 
 
 ' Why did he come out to the Cape in that 
 way ? ' 
 
 ' My dear Kate, how can I tell you every- 
 thing ? ' said the puzzled colonel. ' You would 
 not understand if I were to try and explain to 
 you how this Standish MacDermot's father is a 
 genuine king, whose civil Hst unfortunately 
 does not provide for the travelling expenses 
 of the members of his family, so that the 
 young man thought it well to set out as he did.* 
 
 'I hope you are not imposing on me, 
 George. Well, I must be satisfied, I suppose. 
 By the way, you have not yet been to the 
 room where Mr. Glaston's pictures are hung ; 
 we must not neglect to see them. Mr. Glaston 
 told me just now he thought Daireen's taste 
 perfect.'
 
 300 DAIREEN. 
 
 ' That was very kind of Mr. Glaston.' 
 
 ' If you knew him as I do, George — in fact 
 as he is known in the most exclusive drawing- 
 rooms in London — you would understand how 
 much his commendation is worth,' said Mrs. 
 Crawford. 
 
 ' I have no doubt of it. He must come 
 out to us some evening to dinner. For his 
 father's sake I owe him some attention, if not 
 for his remark to you just now/ 
 
 'I hope you may not forget to ask him,' 
 said Mrs. Crawford. ' He is a most remark- 
 able young man. Of course he is envied by 
 the less accomplished, and you may hear con- 
 tradictory reports about him. But, beheve me, 
 he is looked upon in London as the leader of 
 the most fashionable — that is — the most — not. 
 most learned — no, the most artistic set in town. 
 Very exclusive they are, but they have done 
 ever so much good — designing dados, you 
 know, and writing up the new pomegranate 
 cottage wall-paper.' 
 
 ' I am afraid that Mr. Glaston will find my 
 Dutch cottage deficient in these elements of 
 decoration,' remarked the colonel.
 
 DAIEEEN. 301 
 
 ' I wanted to talk to you about him for a 
 long time,' said Mrs. Crawford. ' Not know- 
 ing how you might regard the subject, I did 
 not think it well to give him too much encour- 
 agement on the voyage, George, so that per- 
 haps he may have thought me inclined to repel 
 him, Daireen being in my care ; but I am sure 
 that all may yet be well. Hush ! who is it 
 that is laughing so loud ? they are coming this 
 way. Ah, Mr. Markham and that little Lottie 
 Vincent. Good gracious, how long that girl is 
 in the field, and how well she wears her age ! 
 Doesn't she look quite juvenile ? ' 
 
 Colonel Gerald could not venture an an- 
 swer before the young lady, who was the eldest 
 daughter of the deputy surgeon-general, tripped 
 up to Mrs. Crawford, and cried, clasping her 
 four-button strawberry-ice-coloured gloves over 
 the elder lady's plump arm, 
 
 ' Dear good Mrs. Crawford, I have come to 
 you in despair to beg your assistance. Promise 
 me that you will do all you can to help me.' 
 
 ' If your case is so bad, Lottie, I suppose I 
 must. But what am I to do ? ' 
 
 'You are to make Mr. Markham promise
 
 302 DAIREEN. 
 
 that he will take part in our theatricals next 
 month. He can act — I know he can act like 
 Irving or Salvini or Terry or Mr. Bancroft or 
 some of the others, and yet he will not promise 
 to take any part. Could anything be more 
 cruel ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing, unless I were to take some part,' 
 said Mr. Markham, laughing. 
 
 ' Hush, sir,' cried the young lady, stamping 
 her Pinet shoe upon the gi'ound, and taking 
 care in the action to show what a remarkably 
 well-formed foot she possessed. 
 
 ' It is cruel of you to refuse a request so 
 offered, Mr. Markham,' said Mrs. Crawford. 
 ' Pray allow yourself to be made amenable to 
 reason, and make Miss Vincent happy for one 
 evening.' 
 
 • Since you put it as a matter of reason, 
 Mrs. Crawford, there is, I fear, no escape for 
 me,' said Mr. Markham. 
 
 'Didn't I talk to you about reason, sir?' 
 cried the young lady in very pretty mock 
 anger. 
 
 'You talked about it,' said Markham, 'just 
 as we walked about that centre bed of cactus :
 
 DAIREEN. 303 
 
 we didn't once touch upon it, you know. You 
 talk very well about a subject, Miss Vincent.' 
 
 ' Was there ever such impertinence ? Mrs. 
 Crawford, isn't it dreadful.^ But we have 
 secured him for our cast, and that is enough. 
 You mil take a dozen tickets of course, Col- 
 onel Gerald ? ' 
 
 'I can confidently say the object is most 
 worthy,' said Markham. 
 
 ' And he doesn't know what it is yet,' said 
 Lottie. 
 
 'That's why I can confidently recommend it.' 
 
 • Now do give me five minutes with Colonel 
 Gerald, like a good dear,' cried the young lady 
 to Mrs. Crawford! ' I must persuade him.' 
 
 ' We are going to see Mr. Glaston's pic- 
 tures,' rephed Mrs. Crawford. 
 
 ' How dehghtftil ! That is what I have been 
 so anxious to do all the afternoon : one feels so 
 delightfully artistic, you know, talking about 
 pictures ; and people think one knows all about 
 them. Do let us go with you, 'Mis. Crawford. 
 I can talk to Colonel Gerald while you go on 
 with Mr. Markham.' 
 
 ' You are a sad httle puss,' said Mrs. Craw-
 
 304 DAIREEN. 
 
 ford, shaking her finger at the artless and in- 
 genuous maiden ; and as she walked on with 
 Mr. Markham she could not help remembering 
 how this httle puss had caused herself to be 
 pretty hardly spoken about some ten years be- 
 fore at the Arradambad station in the Hima- 
 layahs. How well she was wearing her age to 
 be sure, Mrs. Crawford thought. It is not 
 many young ladies who, after ten years' cam- 
 paigning, can be called sad httle pusses; but 
 Miss Vincent still looked quite juvenile — in fact, 
 plus Arahe quen Arable — more juvenile than a 
 juvenile. Everyone knew her and talked of her 
 in various degrees of familiarity ; it was generally 
 understood that an acquaintanceship of twenty- 
 four hours' diuration was sufficient to entitle any 
 field officer to call her by the abbreviated form 
 of her first name, while a week was the space 
 allowed to subalterns. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 Spottisuoode and Co., P?nnlers, New-street Square, London,