*r*~ 
 
 LI BRAHY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVERSITY 
 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 
 v.\ 
 
 SOLO BY 
 
 GEO. A. POYNDER, 
 
 THI SCCONO-HiNb BOOKSHOP 
 »S. CROSS ST.. REAOING.
 
 ^^jg. 
 
 E>
 
 A GRAY EYE OR SO
 
 Novels by the Same Author. 
 
 CHEAP EDITION. 
 
 "I FORBID THE BANNS." The 
 
 story of a comedy which was played seri- 
 ously. In cr. 8vo. cloth gilt 6/-. Sixth 
 Edition in the press. 
 
 The "AiheneBtim" says: — "So racy and brilliant a novel." 
 The " Daily Telegraph " says : — " Mr. Moore has produced 
 a remarkable novel in 'I Forbid the Banns.' It is daring in 
 conception, brilliant in execution, and altogether fascinating in 
 treatment. There is not an ill-drawn character in the book. 
 Moreover, the dialogue is apt and often brilliant. There can 
 be but one verdict on Mr. Moore's work, and that is distinct 
 success. " 
 
 D AIREEN. A novel. Second and cheap 
 Edition. In cr. 8vo. cloth gilt 6/-. 
 
 The "Morning Post" says: — "Remarkably original and well 
 constructed. Daireen is a very charming little person, and 
 Mr. Moore is to be congratulated on having created so natural 
 and graceful a heroine. He has talent of a high order. 
 'Daireen' is indeed a fine story, full of strength and manliness 
 of spirit and style." 
 
 HUTCHINSON & CO., 34 Paternoster Row.
 
 ^ Gray Eye or So 
 
 Frank Frankfort Moore 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 FORBID THE BANNS," "DAIREEN, " " SOJOURNERS TOGETHER," 
 
 "HIGHWAYS AND HIGH SEAS." KIT. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES— VOL. I 
 
 SIXTH EDITION 
 
 Xonfcon 1893 
 
 HUTCHINSON & CO. 
 
 34 PATERNOSTER ROW
 
 PRINTED AT N1MEGUEN (HOLLAND) 
 
 HY H. C A. THIEME OF XIMEGUEN (E0LLAN1 
 
 AND 
 
 TALBOT HOUSE, ARUNDEL STREET 
 
 LONDON, W.C. ■
 
 M'i 
 
 CONTEXTS 
 
 CHAPThR 
 
 
 I. 
 
 ON 
 
 *-K— 
 
 II. 
 
 ON 
 
 
 III. 
 
 on 
 
 
 IV. 
 
 ON 
 
 
 V. 
 
 n\ 
 
 |0 
 
 
 
 c 
 
 VI. 
 
 ON 
 
 y 
 
 VII. 
 
 ON 
 
 7 
 
 VIII. 
 
 ON 
 
 
 ]X. 
 
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 sv 
 
 
 
 
 X. 
 
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 XI. 
 
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 XII. 
 
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 to 
 
 XIII. 
 
 ON 
 
 5 
 
 XIV. 
 
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 e 
 
 XV. 
 
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 j> 
 
 XVI. 
 
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 t 
 
 XVII. 
 
 ON 
 
 S XVIII. 
 
 ON 
 
 
 XIX. 
 
 ON 
 
 % 
 
 
 
 t 
 
 
 
 Q> 
 
 
 
 J 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CERTAIN ABSTRACTIONS I 
 
 A GREAT HOPE 8 
 
 HoNESTY AND THE WORKING MAX 1 5 
 
 FABLES 33 
 
 A PERILOUS CAUSEWAY 42 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF AN OCEAN 52 
 
 THE ADVANTAGES OF A FULL MOON b$ 
 
 THE ZIG-ZAG TRACK 73 
 
 THE HELPLESSNESS OF WOMAN 82 
 
 SCIENCE AND ART 96 
 
 HEAVEN AND THE LORD CHANCELLOR. . . . IO7 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF MAN 1 25 
 
 THE ART OF COLOURING 1 34 
 
 AN IRISH DANCE 1 45 
 
 THE SHRIEK 1 65 
 
 THE VALUE OF A BAD CHARACTER 1 79 
 
 PROVIDENCE AS A MATCH-MAKER 190 
 
 THE PROFESSIONAL MORALIST 213 
 
 MODERIT SOCIETY 224
 
 A GRAY EYE OR SO, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ON CERTAIN ABSTRACTIONS. 
 
 8 1 WAS talking about woman in the abstract, " 
 said Harold. 
 
 The other, whose name was Edmund — his worst 
 enemies had never abbreviated it — smiled, lifted 
 his eyes unto the hills as if in search of some- 
 thing, frowned as if he failed to find it, smiled 
 a cat's-paw of a smile — a momentary crinkle 
 in the region of the eyes — twice his lips parted 
 as if he were about to speak; then he gave a 
 laugh — the laugh of a man who finds that for 
 which he has been searching. 
 
 "Woman in the abstract?" said he. " Woman 
 vol. i. 1
 
 2 A GKAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 in the abstract ? My dear Harold, there is no 
 such thing as woman in the abstract. When you 
 talk about Woman enthusiastically, you are talking 
 about the woman you love ; when you talk about 
 Woman cynically, you are talking about the woman 
 who won't love you. " 
 
 "Maybe your honours never heard tell of Larry 
 O'Leary ? " said the Third — for there was a Third, 
 and his name was Brian ; his duty was to row 
 the boat, and this duty he interpreted by making 
 now and again an elaborate pretence of rowing, 
 which deceived no one. 
 
 a That sounds well, " said Harold ; " but do you 
 want it to be applied ? Do you want a test case 
 of the operation of your epigram — if it is an epi- 
 gram ? " 
 
 " A test case ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I have heard you talk cynically about 
 woman upon occasions. Does that mean that you 
 have been unloved by many ? "
 
 ON CERTAIN ABSTRACTIONS. 3 
 
 Again the man called Edmund looked inquiringly 
 up the purple slope of the hill. 
 
 " You're a wonderful clever gentleman, " said 
 Brian, as if communing with himself, K a wonderful 
 gentleman entirely ! Isn't he after casting his eyes 
 at the very spot where old Larry kept his still ? " 
 
 8 No, " said Edmund ; * I have never spoken 
 -cynically of women. To do so would he to speak 
 against my convictions. I have great hope of 
 Woman. " 
 
 "Yes; our mothers and sisters are women," said 
 Harold. " That makes us hopeful of women. Now 
 we are hack in the wholesome regions of the abstract 
 once more, so that we have talked in a circle and 
 -are precisely where we started, only that I have 
 heard for the first time that you are hopeful of 
 Woman. " 
 
 "That's enough for one day," said Edmund. 
 
 8 Quite, " said Harold. 
 
 u You must know that in the old days the Excise
 
 4 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 police looked after the potheen — the Royal Irish 
 does it now," said the Third. " Well, as I say, in 
 the old days there was a reward of five pounds 
 given by the Excisemen for the discovery of a 
 private still. Now Larry had been a regular hero 
 at transforming the innocent smiling pratie into 
 the drink that's the curse of the country, God bless 
 it ! But he was too wary a lad for the police, and 
 he rolled keg after keg down the side of Slieve 
 Gorm. At last the worm of his still got worn out 
 — they do wear out after a dozen years or so of 
 stiff work — and people noticed that Larry was 
 wearing out too, just through thinking of where he'd 
 get the three pound ten to buy the new machinery. 
 They tried to cheer him up, and the decent boys 
 was so anxious to give him heart that there wasn't 
 such a thing as a sober man to be found in all 
 the country side. But though the brave fellows did 
 what they could for him, it was no use. He never 
 got within three pound five of the three pound ten
 
 OX CERTAIN ABSTRACTIONS. ^ 
 
 that he needed. But just as things was at their 
 worst, they mended. Larry was his old self again, 
 and the word went round that the boys might get 
 sober by degrees. 
 
 "Now what did our friend Larry do, if you 
 please, but take his old worn-out still and hide 
 it among the heather of the hill fornenst us — 
 Slieve Glas is its name — and then he goes the 
 same night to the Excise officer, in the queer 
 secret way. 
 
 " ' I'm in a bad way for money, or it's not me 
 that would be after turning informer,' says he, 
 when he had told the officer that he knew where 
 the still was concealed. 
 
 "'That's the worst of you all,' says the officer. 
 4 You'll not inform on principle, but only because 
 you're in need of money. 1 
 
 "'More's the pity, sir,' says Larry. 
 
 8 'Where's the still?' says the officer. 
 
 "'If I bring you to it,' says Larry, 'it must be
 
 b A GEAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 kept a dead secret, for the owner is the best friend 
 I have in the world.' 
 
 "'You're a nice chap to inform on your best 
 friend,' says the officer. 
 
 " ' I'll never be able to look at him straight in 
 the face after, and that's the truth,' says Larry. 
 
 B Well, your honours, didn't Larry lead the officer 
 and a couple of the Excisemen up the hill in 
 the dark of the early morning, and sure enough 
 they came upon the old still, hid among the heather. 
 It was captured, and Larry got the five pound 
 reward, and was able to buy a brand-neAV still 
 with the money, besides having thirty shillings 
 to the good in his pocket. After that, was it 
 any wonder that he became one of the greatest 
 informers in the country? By the Powers, he made 
 a neat thing out of the business of leading the 
 officers to his own stills and pocketing the reward. 
 He was thirty shillings to the good every time. 
 Ah, Larry was a boy!"
 
 ON CEKTAIX ABSTRACTIONS. 7 
 
 "So I judge," said the man called Edmund, 
 with an unaffected laugh — he had studied the art 
 of being unaffected. "But you see, it was not of 
 the Man but of the Woman we were talking." 
 
 a That's why I thought that the change would 
 be good for your honours," remarked Brian. 8 When 
 gentlemen that I've out in this boat with me, 
 begin to talk together in a way that has got no 
 sense in it at all, I know that they're talking 
 about a woman, and I tell them the story of Larry 
 O'Leary." 
 
 Neither the man called Edmund, nor the man 
 called Harold, talked any more that day upon 
 Woman as a topic.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ON A GREAT HOPE. 
 
 u I THINK you remarked that you had great hope 
 of Woman," said Harold, the next day. The boat 
 had drifted once again into the centre of the same 
 scene, and there seemed to be a likelihood of at 
 least two of the boat's company drifting back to 
 the topic of the previous afternoon. 
 
 " Yes, you certainly admitted that you had great 
 hope of Woman." 
 
 K And so I have. Woman felt, long ago ; she 
 is beginning to feel again." 
 
 a You don't think that feeling is being educated 
 out of her ? I certainly have occasional suspicions
 
 OX A GREAT HOPE. 9 
 
 that this process is going on. Why, just think of the 
 Stafford girl. She can tell you at a moment's notice 
 the exact difference between an atheist, an infidel. 
 an agnostic, a freethinker, and the Honest Doubter. " 
 u She has been reading modern fiction — that's all. 
 No, I don't think that what is called education 
 makes much difference to a woman. After all, what 
 does this thing called education mean ? It simply 
 means that a girl can read all the objectionable 
 passages of the ancient poets without the need of 
 a translation. I have hope of Woman because she 
 is frequently so intensely feminine." 
 
 ■ Maybe you never heard tell of how the Widdy 
 MacDermott's cabin came to be a rum," said the 
 Third. 
 
 ■ Feeling and femininity will, shall I say. trans- 
 form woman into our ideal ? " said Harold. 
 
 B Transform is too strong a word, " said Edmund. 
 " And as for our ideal, well, every woman is the 
 ideal of some man for a time."
 
 10 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 "And that truth shows not only how lowly is 
 the ideal of some men, but also how unwise it is 
 to attempt to speak of woman in the abstract. I 
 begin to think that what you said yesterday had 
 a grain of truth in it, though it was an epigram." 
 
 8 The Widdy MacDermott— oh, the Widdy Mac- 
 Dermott, " said the Third, as though repeating the 
 burden of a ballad. " They made a pome about 
 her in Irish, that was near as full of nonsense as 
 if it had been in the English. You see when Tim, 
 her husband, went to glory he left the cow behind 
 him, taking thought for the need of his widdy, 
 though she hadn't been a widdy when he was 
 acquainted with her. Well, your honours, the byre 
 was a trifle too near the edge of the bog hole, so 
 that when one end fell out, there wasn't much of 
 the mud walls that stood. Then one blessed 
 morning the childer came running into the cabin 
 to tell their mother that the cow was sitting among 
 the ruins of its home."
 
 OX A GREAT HOPE. 11 
 
 ■ A Marius of the farmyard, " remarked Edmund. 
 
 * Likely enough, sir. Anyhow, there she sat as 
 melancholy as if she was a Christian. Of course, 
 as the winter was well for'ard it wouldn't do to 
 risk her life by leaving her to wander about the 
 bogs, so they drove her into the cabin — it was a 
 tight fit for her, passing through the door — she 
 could just get in and nothing to spare ; but when 
 she was inside it was warm and comfortable that 
 the same cow made the cabin, and the childer were 
 wondering at the end of a month how they could 
 have been such fools as to shiver through the 
 winter while the cow was outside. 
 
 * In another month some fine spring days came, 
 and the cabin was a bit close and stuffy with the 
 cow inside, and the widdy herself turned the animal's 
 head to the door and went to drive her out for 
 exercise and ventilation. But the way the beast 
 had been fed and petted told upon her, and by the 
 Powers, if she didn't stick fast in the doorway.
 
 12 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 They leathered her in the cabin and they coaxed 
 her from outside, but it was all of no use. The 
 craythur stood jammed in the door, while the 
 childer crawled in and out of the cabin among her 
 hind legs — the fore legs was half a cow's length 
 outside. That was the situation in the middle of 
 the day, and all the neighbours was standing round 
 giving advice, and calling in to the widdy herself 
 — who, of course, was a prisoner in the cabin — 
 not to lose heart. 
 
 "'It's not heart I'm afeard of losing— it's the 
 cow,' says she. 
 
 "Well, your honours, the evening was coming 
 on, but no change in the situation of affairs took 
 place, and the people of the country-side was get- 
 ting used to the appearance of the half cow pro- 
 jecting beyond the door of the cabin, and to think 
 that maybe, after all, it was nothing outside the 
 ordinary course of events, when Barney M'Bratney, who 
 does the carpentering at the Castle, came up the road.
 
 ON A GREAT HOPE. 13 
 
 K He took in the situation with the glance of the 
 perfessional man, and says he, ' By the Powers, its 
 a case of the cow or the cabin. Which would ye 
 rather be after losing, Widdy ? ' 
 
 "'The cabin by all means," says she. 
 
 " ' You're right, my good woman,' says he. ' Come 
 outside with you.' 
 
 K Well, your honours, the kindly neighbours 
 hauled the widdy outside over the back of the 
 cow, and then with a crowbar Barney attacked 
 the walls on both sides of the door. In ten minutes 
 the cow was free, but the cabin was a wreck. 
 
 " Of course his lardship built it up again stronger 
 than it ever was, but as he wouldn't make the 
 door wide enough to accommodate the cow — he 
 offered to build a byre for her, but that wasn't the 
 same — he has never been so respected as he was 
 before in the neighbourhood of Ballyboreen. " 
 
 8 That's all very well as a story," said Edmund; 
 "but you see we were talking on the subject of
 
 14 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 the advantages of the higher education of woman. " 
 
 u True for you, sir, " said Brian. * And if the Widdy 
 MacDermott had been born with eddication would 
 she have let her childer to sleep with the cow?" 
 
 "Harold," said Edmund, "there are many side 
 lights upon the general question of the advantages 
 of culture in women." 
 
 " And the story of the Widdy MacDermott is one 
 of them ? " said Harold. 
 
 " When I notice that gentlemen that come out 
 in the boat with me begin to talk on contentious 
 topics, I tell them the story of how the Widdy 
 MacDermott's cabin was wrecked," said Brian.
 
 CHAPTER IH. 
 
 OX HOXESTY AXD THE WORKING MAX. 
 
 * DON'T you think," remarked Edmund, the next 
 day, as the boat drifted under the great cliffs, and 
 Brian was discharging with great ability his normal 
 duty of resting on his oars. K Don't you think 
 that you should come to business without further 
 delay?" 
 
 " Come to business ? " said Harold. 
 
 ■ Yes. Two days ago you lured me out in this 
 coracle to make a communication to me that I 
 judged would have some bearing upon your future 
 course of life. You began talking of Woman with 
 a touch of fervour in your voice. You assured 
 
 15
 
 16 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 me that you were referring only to woman in the 
 abstract, and when I convinced you — I trust I 
 convinced you — that woman in the abstract has 
 no existence, you got frightened — as frightened 
 as a child would be, if the thing that it has 
 always regarded as a doll were to wink suddenly, 
 suggesting that it had an individuality, if not a 
 distinction of its own — that it should no longer 
 be included among the vague generalities of rags 
 and bran. Yesterday you began rather more 
 boldly. The effects of education upon the develop- 
 ment of woman, the probability that feeling would 
 survive an intimate acquaintance with Plato in the 
 original. Why not take another onward step to- 
 day ? In short, who is she ? " 
 
 Harold laughed — perhaps uneasily. 
 
 "I'm not without ambition," said he. 
 
 " I know that. What form does your ambition 
 take? A colonial judgeship, after ten years of 
 idleness at the bar? A success in literature that
 
 ON HONESTY AND THE WORKING MAN. 17 
 
 shall compensate you for the favourable criticisms 
 of double that period? The ownership of the Derby 
 winner? An American heiress, moving in the best 
 society in Monte Carlo ? A co-respondency in 
 brackets with a Countess ? All these are the legiti- 
 mate aspirations of the modern man." 
 
 " Co-respondency as a career has, no doubt, much 
 to recommend it to some tastes," said Harold. 
 a It appears to me. however, that it would be easy 
 for an indiscreet advocate to over-estimate its prac- 
 tical value." 
 
 8 You haven't been thinking about it ? " 
 " You see, I haven't yet met the countess." 
 ■ What, then, in heaven's name do you hope for ? " 
 " Well, I would say Parliament, if I could be 
 sure that that came within the rather narrow 
 restrictions which you assigned to my reply. You 
 said 'in heaven's name.'" 
 
 tf Parliament ! Parliament ! Great Powers ! is it 
 so bad as that with you ? " 
 
 vol. i. 2
 
 18 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 " I don't say that it is. I may be able to get 
 over this ambition as I've got over others — the 
 stroke oar in the Eight, for instance, the soul of 
 Sarasate, the heart of Miss Polly Floss of the Music 
 Halls. Up to the present, however, I have shown 
 no sign of parting with the surviving ambition of 
 many ambitions." 
 
 " I don't say that you're a fool, " said the man 
 called Edmund. He did not speak until the long 
 pause, filled up by the great moan of the Atlantic 
 in the distance and the hollow fitful plunge of the 
 waters upon the rocks of the Irish shore, had 
 become awkwardly long. u I can't say that you're 
 a fool." 
 
 " That's very good of you, old chap. " 
 " No; I can't conscientiously say that you're a fool." 
 " Again ? This is becoming cloying. If I don't 
 mistake, you yourself do a little in the line I suggest. " 
 " What would be wisdom — comparative wisdom — 
 on my part, might be idiotcy — "
 
 OX HOXESTY AND THE WORKING MAX. 19 
 
 "Comparative idiotcy?" 
 
 " Sheer idiotcy, on yours. I have several thousands 
 a year, and I can almost — not quite — but I affirm. 
 almost, afford to talk honestly to the Working man. 
 No candidate for Parliament can quite afford to be 
 honest to the Working man." 
 
 ■ And the Working man returns the compliment, 
 only he works it off on the general public," said 
 Harold. 
 
 The other man smiled pityingly upon him — the 
 smile of the professor of anatomy upon the student 
 who identifies a thigh bone — the smile which the 
 savant allows himself when brought in contact with 
 a discerner of the obvious. 
 
 8 Xo woman is quite frank in her prayers — no 
 politician is quite honest with the Working man.~ 
 
 "Well, I am prepared to be not quite honest 
 with him too." 
 
 K You may believe yourself equal even to that ; 
 but it's not so easy as it sounds. There is an art
 
 20 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 in not being quite honest. However, that's a 
 
 detail." 
 
 " I humbly venture so to judge it. " 
 
 " The main thing is to get returned. " 
 
 " The main thing is, as you say, to get the money." 
 
 "The money?" 
 
 "Perhaps I should have said the woman." 
 
 "The woman? the money? Ah, that brings us 
 
 round again in the same circle that we traversed 
 
 yesterday, and the day before. I begin to perceive." 
 "I had hope that you would — in time." 
 " I shouldn't wonder if we heard the Banshee 
 
 after dark," said the Third. 
 
 " You are facing things boldly, my dear Harold, " 
 
 said Edmund. 
 
 " What's the use of doing anything else?" inquired 
 
 Harold. " You know how I am situated. " 
 " I know your father. " 
 * That is enough. He writes to me that he finds 
 
 it impossible to continue my allowance on its present
 
 OX HONESTY AND THE WORKING MAN. 21 
 
 scale. His expenses are daily increasing, he says. 
 I believe him." 
 
 " Too many people believe in him. " said Edmund. 
 " I have never been among them." 
 
 K But you can easily believe that his expenses 
 are daily increasing." 
 
 a Oh. yes. I am easily credulous on that point. 
 Does he go the length of assigning any reason for 
 the increase?" 
 
 u It's perfectly preposterous — he has no notion 
 of the responsibilities of fatherhood— of the propriety 
 of its limitations so far as an exchange of confi- 
 dences is concerned. Why, if it were the other 
 way — if I were to write to tell him that I was in 
 love, I would feel a trifle awkward — I would think 
 it almost indecent to quote poetry — Swinburne — 
 something about crimson mouths." 
 
 B I dare say ; but your father — " 
 
 "He writes to tell me that he is in love." 
 
 •In love?"
 
 22 
 
 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 " Yes, with some — well, some woman." 
 
 " Some woman ? I wonder if I know her husband. " 
 
 There was a considerable pause. 
 
 Brian pointed a ridiculous, hooked forefinger 
 toward a hollow that from beneath resembled a 
 cave, half-way up the precipitous wall of cliffs. 
 
 8 That's where she comes on certain nights of 
 the year. She stands at the entrance to that cave, 
 and cries for her lover as she cried that night when 
 she came only to find his dead body," said Brian, 
 neutralizing the suggested tragedy in his narrative by 
 keeping exhibited that comical crook in his index 
 finger. * Ay, your honours, it's a quare story of pity. " 
 
 Both his auditors looked first at his face, then 
 at the crook in his finger, and laughed. They 
 declined to believe in the pity of it. 
 
 "It is preposterous," said Harold. "He writes 
 to me that he never quite knew before what it was 
 to love. He knows it now, he says, and as it's more 
 expensive than he ever imagined it could be, he's
 
 OX HONESTY AND THE WORKING 31 AX. 23 
 
 reluctantly compelled to cut down my allowance. 
 Then it is that he begins to talk of the crimson 
 mouth — I fancy it's followed by something about the 
 passion of the fervid South — so like my father, but 
 like no other man in the world. He adds that 
 perhaps one day I may also know 'what 'tis to love.' " 
 
 * At present, however, he insists on your looking 
 at that form of happiness through another man's 
 eyes? Your father loves, and you are to learn — 
 approximately — what it costs, and pay the expenses. " 
 
 " That's the situation of the present hour. What 
 am I to do?" 
 
 "Marry Helen Craven." 
 
 ■ That's brutally frank, at any rate. " 
 
 " You see, you're not a working man with a 
 vote. I can afford to be frank with you. Of 
 course, that question which you have asked me is 
 the one that was on your mind two days ago, 
 when you began to talk about what you called 
 ' woman in the abstract.' "
 
 24 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 " I dare say it was. We have had two stories 
 from Brian in the meantime." 
 
 a My dear Harold, your case is far from being 
 unique. Some of its elements may present new 
 features, but, taken as a whole, it is commonplace. 
 You have ambition, but you have also a father." 
 "So far I am in line with the commonplace." 
 a You cannot hope to realize your aims without 
 money, and the only way by which a man can 
 acquire a large amount of money suddenly, is by 
 a deal on the Stock Exchange or at Monte Carlo, 
 or by matrimony. The last is the safest." 
 "There's no doubt about that. But — " 
 u Yes, I know what's in your mind. I've read 
 the scene between Captain Absolute and his father 
 in 'The Rivals' — I read countless fictions up to the 
 point where the writers artlessly introduce the same 
 scene, then I throw away the books. With the 
 examples we have all had of the success of the mariage 
 de convenance and of the failure of the mariage
 
 OX HONESTY AMD THE WORKING MAN. 25 
 
 <1 'amour it is absurd to find fault with the Johnsonian 
 dictum about marriages made by the Lord Chancellor. " 
 
 ■ I suppose not. " said Harold. s Only I don't 
 quite see why. if Dr. Johnson didn't believe that 
 marriages were made in heaven, there was any 
 necessity for him to run off to the other extreme." 
 
 " He merely said, I fancy, that a marriage ar- 
 ranged by the Lord Chancellor was as likely to 
 turn out happily as one that was — well, made in 
 heaven, if you insist on the phrase. Heaven, as 
 a match-maker, has much to learn." 
 
 "Then it's settled," said Harold, with an affec- 
 tation of cynicism that amused his friend and 
 puzzled Brian, who had ears. * I'll have to sacri- 
 fice one ambition in order to secure the other." 
 
 "I think that you're right," said Edmund. 
 " You're not in love just now— so much is certain." 
 
 "Nothing could be more certain." acquiesced 
 Harold, with a laugh. " And now I suppose it is 
 equally certain that I never shall be."
 
 26 A GRAY EYE OK SO. 
 
 a Nothing of the sort. That cynicism which 
 delights to suggest that marriage is fatal to love, 
 is as false as it is pointless. Let any man keep his 
 eyes open and he will see that marriage is the surest 
 guarantee that exists of the permanence of love." 
 
 " Just as an I U is a guarantee — it's a legal 
 form. The money can be legally demanded." 
 
 " You are a trifle obscure in your parallel," 
 remarked Edmund. 
 
 " I merely suggested that the marriage ceremony 
 is an I U for the debt which is love. Oh, this 
 sort of beating about a question and making it 
 the subject of phrases can lead nowhere. Never 
 mind. I believe that, on the whole, the grain of 
 advice which I have acquired out of your bushel 
 of talk, is good, and is destined to bear good 
 fruit. I'll have my career in the world, that my 
 father may learn 'what 'tis to love.' My mind is 
 made up. Come, Brian, to the shore!" 
 
 " Not till I tell your honour the story of the
 
 ON HONESTY AND THE WORKING MAX. 27 
 
 lovely young Princess Fither," said the boatman, 
 assuming a sentimental expression that was ex- 
 tremely comical. 
 
 "Brian, Prince of Storytellers, let it be brief," 
 said Edmund. 
 
 ■ It's to his honour I'm telling this story, not to 
 your honour, Mr. Airey," said Brian. * You've a 
 way of wrinkling up your eyes, I notice, when you 
 speak that word 'love,' and if you don't put your 
 tongue in your cheek when anyone else comes 
 across that word accidental-like, you put your 
 tongue in your cheek when you're alone, and when 
 you think over what has been said." 
 
 B Why, you're a student of men as well as an 
 observer of nature, Prince," laughed Edmund. 
 
 "No, I've only eyes and ears," said Brian, in a 
 deprecating tone. 
 
 "And a certain skill in narrative," said Harold. 
 8 What about the beauteous Princess Fither ? What 
 dynasty did she belong to ? "
 
 28 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 u She belonged to Cashelderg, " replied Brian. 
 u A few stones of the ruin may still be seen, if 
 you've any imagination, on the brink of the cliff 
 that's called Carrigorm — you can just perceive its 
 shape above the cove where his lordship's boat- 
 house is built." 
 
 u Yes ; I see the cliff — just where a castle might 
 at one time have been built. And that's the 
 dynasty that she belonged to ? " said Harold. 
 
 u The same, sir. And on our side you may still 
 see — always supposing that you have the imag- 
 ination — " 
 
 u Of course, nothing imaginary can be seen with- 
 out the aid of the imagination." 
 
 " You may see the ruins of what might have 
 been Cashel-na-Mara, where the Macnamara held 
 his court — Mac na Mara means Son of the Waves, 
 you must know." 
 
 "It's a matter of notoriety," said Edmund. 
 
 " The Macnamaras and the Casheldergs were
 
 ON HONESTY AND THE WORKING MAN. 29 
 
 the deadliest of enemies, and hardly a day passed 
 for years- maybe centuries — without some one of 
 the clan getting the better of the other. May b e 
 that was how the surplus population was kept 
 down in these parts. Anyhow there was no talk, 
 so far as I've heard, of congested districts in them 
 days. Well, sir, it so happened that the Prince 
 of the Macnamaras was a fine, handsome, and brave 
 young fellow, and the Princess Fither of Cashel- 
 derg was the most beautiful of Irish women, and 
 that's saying a good deal. As luck would have it, 
 the young people came together. Her boat was 
 lost in a fog one night and drifting upon the sharp 
 rocks beyond the headland. The cries of the poor 
 girl were heard on both sides of the Lough — the 
 blessed Lough where we're now floating — but no 
 one was brave enough to put out to the rescue of 
 the Princess— no one, did I say? Who is it that 
 makes a quick leap off the cliffs into the rolling 
 waters beneath? He fights his way, strong swim-
 
 30 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 mer that he is ! through the surge, and, unseen by 
 any eye by reason of the fog, he reaches the 
 Princess's boat. Her cries cease. And a keen 
 arises along the cliffs of Carrigorm, for her friends 
 think that she has been swallowed up in the cruel 
 waves. The keen goes on, but it's sudden changed 
 into a shout of joy; for a noble young figure 
 appears as if by magic on the cliff head, and 
 places the precious burden of her lovely daughter 
 in the arms of her weeping mother, and then 
 vanishes. " 
 
 u And so the feud was healed, and if they didn't 
 live happy, we may," said Edmund. 
 
 tt That's all you know about the spirit of an 
 ancient Irish family quarrel," said Brian pityingly. 
 " No, sir. The brave deed of the young Prince 
 only made the quarrel the bitterer. But the young 
 people had fallen in love with each other, and 
 they met in secret in that cave that you see there 
 just above us— the Banshee's Cave, it's called to
 
 ON HONESTY AND THE WORKING MAN. 31 
 
 this day. The lovely Princess put off in her boat 
 night after night, and climbed the cliff face — there 
 was no path in them days — to where her lover 
 was waiting for her in the cave. But at last some 
 wretch unworthy of the name of a man got to 
 learn the secret and told it to the Princess's father. 
 With half-a-dozen of the clan he lay in wait for 
 the young Prince in the cave, and they stabbed him in 
 twelve places with their daggers. And even while 
 they were doing the murder, the song of the Prin- 
 cess was heard, telling her lover that she was 
 coming. She climbed the face of the cliff and with 
 a laugh ran into the trysting-place. She stumbled 
 over the body of her lover. Her father stole out 
 of the darkness of the cave and grasped her by 
 the wrist. Then there rang out over the waters 
 the cry, which still sounds on some nights froin 
 a cave — the cry of the girl when she learned the 
 truth — the cry of the girl as, with a super- 
 human effort, she released herself from her father's
 
 32 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 iron grasp, and sprang from the head of the cliff 
 you see there above, into the depths of the waters 
 where we're now floating." 
 
 There was a pause before Edmund remarked, 
 
 a Your story of the Montague-Macnamaras and 
 the Capulet-Casheldergs is a sad one, Brian. And 
 you have heard the cry of the young Princess 
 with your own ears, I dare say ? " 
 
 " That I have, your honour. And it's the story 
 of the young Princess Fither and her lover that I 
 tell to gentlemen that put their tongues in their 
 cheeks when they're alone, and thinking of the way 
 the less knowing ones talk of love and the heart 
 of a woman." 
 
 Both Edmund and Harold began to think that 
 perhaps the Irish boatman was a shrewder and a 
 more careful listener than they had given him 
 credit for being.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OX FABLES. 
 
 VERY amusing indeed was Edmund's parody of 
 the boatman's wildly-romantic story. The travesty 
 was composed for the benefit of Miss Craven, and 
 the time of its communication was between the 
 courses of the very excellent dinner which Lord 
 Innisfail had provided for his numerous guests at 
 his picturesque Castle overlooking Lough Suangorm 
 — that magnificent fjord on the West Coast of 
 Ireland. Lord Innisfail was a true Irishman. When 
 he was away from Ireland he was ever longing to 
 be back in it, and when he was in Ireland he was 
 ever trying to get away from it. The result of 
 
 VOL. I. 33 3
 
 34 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 his patriotism was a residence of a month in Con- 
 naught in the autumn, and the rest of the year 
 in Connaught Square or Monte Carlo. He was 
 accustomed to declare — in England — that Ireland 
 and the Irish were magnificent. If this was his 
 conviction, his self-abnegation, displayed by care- 
 fully avoiding both, except during a month every 
 year, was all the greater. 
 
 And yet no one ever gave .him credit for pos- 
 sessing the virtue of self-abnegation. 
 
 He declared — in England — that the Irish race 
 was the finest on the face of the earth, and he 
 invariably filled his Castle with Englishmen. 
 
 He was idolized by his Irish tenantry, and they 
 occasionally left a few birds for his guests to 
 shoot on his moors during the latter days of 
 August. 
 
 Lord Innisfail was a man of about fifty years of 
 age. His wife was forty and looked twenty-five: 
 their daughter was eighteen and looked twenty-four.
 
 OX FABLES. 35 
 
 Edmund Airey, who was trying to amuse Miss 
 Craven by burlesquing the romance of the Princess 
 Fither, was the representative in Parliament of an 
 English constituency. His father had been in business 
 — some people said on the Stock Exchange, winch 
 would be just the opposite. He had, however, died 
 leaving his son a considerable fortune extremely 
 well invested — a fact which tended strongly against 
 the Stock Exchange theory. His son showed no 
 desire to go on the turf or to live within reach 
 to the European gaming-table. If there was any 
 truth in the Stock Exchange theory, this fact tended 
 to weaken the doctrine of heredity. 
 
 He had never blustered on the subject of his 
 independence of thought or action. He had attached 
 himself unobtrusively to the Government party on 
 entering Parliament, and he had never occasioned 
 the Whips a moment's anxiety during the three years 
 that had elapsed since the date of his return. He was 
 always found in the Government Lobby in a division,
 
 36 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 and he was thus regarded by the Ministers as an 
 extremely conscientious man. This is only another 
 way of saying that he was regarded by the Opposition 
 as an extremely unscrupulous man. 
 
 His speeches were brief, but each of them con- 
 tained a phrase which told against the Opposition. 
 He was wise enough to refrain from introducing 
 into any speech so doubtful an auxiliary as argument, 
 in his attempts to convince the Opposition that 
 they were in the wrong. He had the good sense 
 to perceive early in his career that argument goes 
 for nothing in the House of Commons, but that 
 trusted Governments have been turned out of office 
 by a phrase. This power of perception induced him 
 to cultivate the art of phrase-making. His dexterity 
 in this direction had now and again made the 
 Opposition feel uncomfortable ; and as making 
 the Opposition feel uncomfortable embodies the 
 whole science of successful party-government in 
 England, it was generally assumed that, if the
 
 OX FABLES. 37 
 
 Opposition could only be kept out of power after the 
 General Election. Edmund Airey would be rewarded 
 by an Under-Secretaryship. 
 
 He was a year or two under forty, tall, slender. 
 and so distinguished-looking that some people — they 
 were not his friends — were accustomed to say that 
 it was impossible that he could ever attain to 
 political distinction. 
 
 He assured Miss Craven that, sitting in the stern 
 sheets of the boat, idly rocking on the smooth swell 
 that rolled through the Lough from the Atlantic, 
 was by far the most profitable way of spending 
 two hours of the afternoon. Miss Craven doubted 
 if this was a fact. " Where did the profit come m 
 except to the boatman? " she inquired. 
 
 Mr. Airey. who knew that Miss Craven was anxious 
 to know if Harold had been of the profitable boating- 
 party, had no idea of allowing his powers of travesty 
 to be concealed by the account, for which the young 
 woman was longing, of Harold and the topics upon
 
 38 A GKAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 which he had conversed. He assured her that it 
 was eminently profitable for anyone interested in 
 comparative mythology, to be made acquainted with 
 the Irish equivalent to the Mantuan fable. 
 
 "Fable!" almost shrieked Miss Craven. "Man- 
 tuan fable ! Do you mean to suggest that there 
 never was a Romeo and Juliet ? " 
 
 " On the contrary, I mean to say that there have 
 been several," said Mr. Airey. " They exist in all 
 languages. I have come unexpectedly upon them 
 in India, then in Japan, afterwards they turned up, 
 with some delicate Maori variations, in New Zealand 
 when I was there. I might have been prepared for 
 them at such a place as this You know how 
 the modern melodramas are made, Miss Craven ? " 
 
 " I have read somewhere, but I forget. And 
 you sat alone in the boat smoking, while the boat- 
 man droned out his stories ? " remarked the young 
 woman, refusing a cold entree. 
 
 "I will tell you how the melodramas are made,"
 
 OX FABLES. 39 
 
 said Mr. Airey, refusing to be led up to Harold 
 as a topic. ' The artist paints several effective 
 pictures of scenery and then one of the collabor- 
 ateurs — the man who can't write, for want of the 
 grammar, but who knows how far to go with the 
 public — invents the situation to work in with the 
 scenery. Last of all, the man who has grammar 
 — some grammar — fills in the details of the story." 
 
 "Really! How interesting! And that's how 
 Shakespeare wrote 'Romeo and Juliet'? What a 
 fund of knowledge you have, Mr. Airey!" 
 
 Mr. Airey, by the method of his disclaimer, laid 
 claim to a much larger fund than any that Miss 
 Craven had attributed to him. 
 
 " I only meant to suggest that traditional 
 romance is evolved on the same lines,*' said he, 
 when his deprecatory head-shakes had ceased. 
 B Given the scenic effects of ' Romeo and Juliet, ' 
 the romance on the lines of 'Romeo and Juliet' 
 will be forthcoming, if you only wait long enough.
 
 40 A GRAY EYE OK SO. 
 
 When you pay a visit to any romantic glen with 
 a torrent — an amateurish copy of an unknown 
 Salvator Rosa — ask for the 'Lover's Leap' and it 
 will be shown to you." 
 
 " I'll try to remember. " 
 
 " Given, as scenic details, the ruin of a Castle 
 on one side of the Lough, the ruin of a Castle 
 on the other, and the names of the hereditary 
 enemies, the story comes naturally — quite as 
 naturally — not to say overmuch about it — as the 
 story of the melodrama follows the sketch of the 
 scenic effects in the theatre. The transition from 
 Montague to Macnamara — from Capulet to Cashel- 
 derg is easy, and there you are." 
 
 "And here we are," laughed Miss Craven. "How 
 delightful it is to be able to work out a legend 
 in that way, is it not, Mr. Durdan ? " and she 
 turned to a man sitting at her left. 
 
 "It's quite delightful, I'm sure," said Mr. Dur- 
 dan. "But Airey is only adapting the creed of
 
 ON FABLES. 41 
 
 his party to matters of everyday life. What 
 people say about his party is that they make a 
 phrase first and then look out for a policy to 
 hang upon it. Government by phrase is what the 
 country is compelled to submit to." 
 
 Mr. Durdan was a prominent member of the 
 Opposition.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ON A PEEILOUS CAUSEWAY. 
 
 MISS CRAVEN laughed and watched Mr. Airey 
 searching for a reply beneath the frill of a 
 Neapolitan ice. She did not mean that he should find 
 one. Her aim was that he should talk about Harold 
 Wynne. The dinner had reached its pianissimo 
 passages, so to speak. It was dwindling away 
 into the marrons glaces and fondants stage, so she 
 had not much time left to her to find out if it 
 was indeed with his friend Edmund Airey that 
 Harold had disappeared every afternoon. 
 
 Edmund Airey knew what her aim was. He 
 was a clever man, and he endeavoured to frustrate 
 
 42
 
 OX A PERILOUS CAUSEWAY. 43 
 
 it. Ten minutes afterwards he was amazed to 
 find that he had told her all that she wanted to 
 know, and something over, for he had told her 
 that Harold was at present greatly interested in 
 the question of the advisability of a man's entering 
 public life by the perilous causeway — the phrase 
 was Edmund Airey's — of matrimony. 
 
 As he chose a cigar for himself — for there was 
 a choice even among Lord Innisfail's cigars — he 
 was actually amazed to find that the girl's purpose 
 had been too strong for his resolution. He actually 
 felt as if he had betrayed his friend to the enemy — 
 he actually put the matter in this way in his 
 moment of self-reproach. 
 
 Before his cigar was well alight, however, he had 
 become more reasonable in his censorship of his own 
 weakness. An enemy ? Why, the young woman was 
 the best friend that Harold Wynne could possibly 
 have. She was young — that is, young enough — 
 she was clever — had she not got the better of
 
 44 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 Edmund Airey ?- -and, best of all, she was an heiress. 
 
 "The perilous causeway of matrimony" — that 
 was the phrase which had come suddenly into 
 his mind, and, in order to introduce it, he had sent 
 the girl away feeling that she was cleverer than 
 he was. 
 
 "The perilous causeway of matrimony," he 
 repeated. " With a handrail of ten thousand a 
 year — there is safety in that." 
 
 He looked down the long dining-hall, glistening 
 with silver, to where Harold stood facing the great 
 window, the square of which framed a dim picture 
 of a mountain slope, purple with heather, that had 
 snared the last light of the sunken sun. The sea 
 horizon cut upon the slope not far from its summit, 
 and in that infinity of Western distance there was 
 a dash of drifting crimson. 
 
 Harold Wynne stood watching that picture of 
 the mountain with the Atlantic beyond, and Edmund 
 watched him.
 
 OX A PERILOUS CAUSEWAY. 45 
 
 There was a good deal of conversation flying 
 about the room. The smokers of cigarettes talked 
 on a topic which they would probably have called 
 Art. The smokers of pipes explained in a circum- 
 stantial way. that carried suspicion with it to the 
 ears of all listeners, their splendid failures to secure 
 certain big fish during the day. The smokers of 
 cigars talked of the Horse and the House — mostly 
 of the Horse. There was a rather florid judge 
 present — he had talked himself crimson to the 
 appreciative woman who had sat beside him at 
 dinner, on the subject of the previous racing-season, 
 and now he was talking himself purple on the 
 subject of the future season. He had been at 
 Castle Innisfail for three days, and he had steadily 
 refused to entertain the idea of talking on any 
 other subject than the Horse from the standpoint 
 of a possible backer. 
 
 This was the judge, who. during the hearing of 
 a celebrated case a few months before — a case that
 
 46 A GKAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 had involved a reference to an event known as the 
 City and Suburban, inquired if that was the name 
 of a Railway Company. Hearing that it was a 
 race, he asked if it was a horse race or a dog race. 
 
 Harold remained on his feet in front of the 
 window, and Edmund remained watching him until 
 the streak of crimson had dwindled to a flaming 
 Rahab thread. The servants entered the room with 
 coffee, and brought out many subtle gleams from 
 the old oak by lighting the candles in the silver 
 sconces. 
 
 Every time that the door was opened, the sound 
 of a human voice (female) trying, but with indif- 
 ferent success, to scale the heights of a song that 
 had been saleable by reason of its suggestions 
 of passion — drawing-room passion — saleable pas- 
 sion — fought its way through the tobacco smoke 
 of the dining-hall. Hearing it fitfully, such men as 
 might have felt inclined to leave half- smoked cigars 
 for the sake of the purer atmosphere of the drawing-
 
 ON A PERILOUS CAUSEWAY. 47 
 
 room, became resigned to their immediate sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 A whisper had gone round the table while 
 dinner was in progress, that Miss Stafford had 
 promised — some people said threatened — to recite 
 something in the course of the evening. Miss 
 Stafford was a highly-educated young woman. She 
 spoke French. German, Italian and Spanish. This 
 is only another way of saying that she could 
 be uninteresting in four languages. In addition 
 to the ordinary disqualifications of such young 
 women, she recited a little — mostly poems about 
 early childhood, involving a lisp and a pinafore. 
 She wished to do duty as an object lesson of 
 the possibility of combining with an exhaustive 
 knowledge of mathematical formula?, the strongest 
 instincts of femininity. Mathematics and mother- 
 hood were not necessarily opposed to one another. 
 her teachers had assured the world, through the 
 medium of magazine articles. Formula? and femi-
 
 48 A GRAY EYE OK SO. 
 
 ninity went hand in hand, they endeavoured to 
 prove, through the medium of Miss Stafford's reci- 
 tations ; so she acquired the imaginary lisp of early 
 childhood, and tore a pinafore to shreds in the 
 course of fifteen stanzas. 
 
 It was generally understood among men that one 
 of these recitations amply repaid a listener for a 
 careful avoidance of the apartment where it took place. 
 
 The threat that had been whispered round the 
 dinner-table formed an excuse for long tarrying in 
 front of the coffee cups and Benedictine. 
 
 " Boys, " at length said Lord Innisfail, endeavouring 
 to put on an effective Irish brogue — he thought 
 it was only due to Ireland to put on a month's 
 brogue. " Boys, we'll face it like men. Shall it be 
 said in the days to come that we ran away from 
 a lisp and a pinafore ? " Then suddenly remem- 
 bering that Miss Stafford was his guest, he became 
 grave. "Her father was my friend," he said. "He 
 rode straight. What's the matter with the girl?
 
 ON A PERILOUS CAUSEWAY. 49 
 
 If she does know all about the binomial-theorem 
 and German philosophy, has she not some redeeming 
 qualities ? You needn't tell me that there's not 
 some good in a young woman who commits to 
 memory such stuff as that — that what's its name — 
 the little boy that's run over by a 'bus or something 
 or other and that lisps in consequence about his 
 pap-pa. Xo, you needn't argue with me. It's 
 extremely kind of her to offer to recite, and I will 
 stand up for her, confound her! And if anyone 
 wants to come round with the Judge and me to 
 the stables while she's reciting, now's the time. 
 Will you take another glass of claret. Wynne?" 
 
 " Xo. thank you," said Harold. "I'm off to the 
 drawing-room. " 
 
 He followed the men who were straggling into 
 the great square hall where a billiard table oc- 
 cupied an insignificant space. The skeleton of an 
 ancient Irish elk formed a rather more conspicuous 
 object in the hall, and was occasionally found handy 
 
 vol. 1. -1
 
 50 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 for the disposal of hats, rugs, and overcoats. 
 
 " She is greatly interested in the Romeo and 
 Juliet story," remarked Edmund, strolling up to 
 him. 
 
 8 She — who ? " asked Harold. 
 
 " The girl — the necessary girl. The — let us say, 
 alternative. The — the handrail." 
 
 8 The handrail? " 
 
 " Yes. Oh, I forgot : you were not within hearing. 
 There was something said about the perilous cause- 
 way of matrimony." 
 
 "And that suggested the handrail idea to you? 
 No better idea ever occurred even to you, man 
 of many ideas, and of still more numerous phrases. " 
 
 "She is responsive — she is also clever — she is 
 uncommonly clever — she got the better of me." 
 
 * Say no more about her cleverness. " 
 
 "I will say no more about it. A man cannot 
 go a better way about checking an incipient passion 
 for a young woman than by insisting on her clev-
 
 ON A PERILOUS CAUSEWAY. 51 
 
 erness. We do not take to the clever ones. Our 
 ideal does not include a power of repartee." 
 
 " Incipient passion ! " 
 
 There was a suspicion of bitterness in Harold's 
 voice, as he repeated the words of his friend. 
 
 " Incipient passion ! I think we had better go 
 into the drawing-room." 
 
 They went into the drawing-room. 
 
 LIBRARY 
 "N'VFRSITYOF Rfmni
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ON THE INFLUENCE OF AN OCEAN. 
 
 MISS CRAVEN was sitting on a distant sofa listen- 
 ing, or pretending to listen, which is precisely the 
 same thing, with great earnestness to the discourse 
 of Mr. Durdan, who, besides being an active politi- 
 cian, had a theory upon the question of what Ibsen 
 meant by his u Master Builder. " 
 
 Harold said a few words to Miss Innisfail, who 
 was trying to damp her mother's hope of getting 
 up a dance in the hall, but Lady Innisfail declined 
 to be suppressed even by her daughter, and had 
 received promises of support for her enterprise in 
 influential quarters. Finding that her mother was 
 
 52
 
 OX THE INFLUENCE OF AN OCEAN. 53 
 
 likely to succeed, the girl hastened away to entreat 
 one of her friends to play a "piece*' on the pianoforte. 
 
 She knew that she might safely depend upon 
 the person to whom she applied for this favour, 
 to put a stop to her mother's negotiations. The 
 lady performed in the old style. Under her hands 
 the one instrument discharged the office of several. 
 The volume of sound suggested that produced by 
 the steam orchestra of a switchback railway. 
 
 Harold glanced across the room and perceived 
 that, while the performer was tearing notes by the 
 handful and flinging them about the place — up in 
 the air. against the walls — while her hands were 
 worrying the bass notes one moment like rival 
 terrier puppies over a bone, and at other times 
 tickling the treble rather too roughly to be good 
 fun — Miss Craven's companion had not aban- 
 doned the hope of making himself audible if not 
 intelligible. He had clearly accepted the challenge 
 thrown down by the performer.
 
 54 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 Harold perceived that a man behind him had 
 furtively unlatched one of the windows leading to 
 the terrace, and was escaping by that means, and 
 not alone. From outside came the hearty laughter 
 of the judge telling an open-air story to his host. 
 People looked anxiously toward the window. Harold 
 shook his head as though suggesting that that sort 
 of interruption must be put a stop to at once, and 
 that he was the man to do it. 
 
 He went resolutely out through the window. 
 
 K ' Which was immediately suppressed by the offi- 
 cers of the court,' " said Edmund, in the ear of 
 Lady Innisfail. 
 
 He spoke too soon. The judge's laugh rolled 
 along like the breaking of a tidal wave. It was 
 plain that Harold had not gone to remonstrate 
 with the judge. 
 
 He had not. He had merely strolled round the 
 terrace to the entrance hall. Here he picked up 
 one of the many caps which were hanging there,
 
 ON THE INFLUENCE OF AX OCEAN. 55 
 
 and putting it on his head, walked idly away from 
 the castle, hearing only the floating eulogy uttered 
 by the judge of a certain well-known jockey who 
 was, he said, the kindliest and most honourable soul 
 that had ever pulled the favourite. 
 
 A longing had come to him to hurry as far as he 
 could from the Castle and its company — they were 
 hateful to him just at that instant. The shocking 
 performance of the woman at the pianoforte, the 
 chatter of his fellow-guests, the delicate way in 
 which his friend Edmund Airey made the most 
 indelicate allusions, the nisi prius jocularity of the 
 judge — he turned away from all with a feeling of 
 repulsion. 
 
 And yet Lord Innisfail's cook was beyond reproach 
 as an artist. 
 
 Harold Wynne had accepted the invitation of 
 Lady Innisfail in cold blood. She had asked him 
 to go to Castle Innisfail for a few weeks in 
 August, adding, * Helen Craven has promised to
 
 56 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 be among our party. You like her, don't you ?* 
 
 u Immensely," lie had replied. 
 
 " I knew it," she had cried, with an enthusiasm 
 that would have shocked her daughter. " I don't 
 want a discordant note at our gathering. If you 
 look coldly on Helen Craven I shall wish that I 
 hadn't asked you ; but if you look on her in — well, 
 in the other way, we shall all be happy." 
 
 He knew exactly what Lady Innisfail meant to 
 convey. It had been hinted to him before that, as 
 he was presumably desirous of marrying a girl 
 with a considerable amount of money, he could not 
 do better than ask Miss Craven to be his wife. 
 He had then laughed and assured Lady Innisfail 
 that if their happiness depended upon the way he 
 looked upon Miss Craven, it would be his aim 
 to look upon her in any way that Lady Innisfail 
 might suggest. 
 
 Wei], he had come to Castle Innisfail, and for 
 a week he had given himself up to the vastness
 
 OX THE INFLUENCE OF AN OCEAN. : '7 
 
 of the Western Cliffs — of the Atlantic waves— of 
 the billowy mountains — of the mysterious sunsets. 
 It was impossible to escape from the overwhelming 
 influence of the Atlantic in the region of Castle 
 Innisfail. Its sound seemed to go out to all the 
 ends of the earth. At the Castle there was no 
 speech or language where its voice was not heard. 
 It was a sort of background of sound that had to 
 be arranged for by anyone desirous of expressing 
 any thought or emotion in that region. Even the 
 judge had to take it into consideration upon occa- 
 sions. He never took into consideration anything 
 less important than an ocean. 
 
 For a week the influence of the Atlantic had 
 overwhelmed Harold. He had given himself up to 
 it. He had looked at Miss Craven neither coldly 
 nor in the other way — whatever it was — to which 
 Lady Innisfail had referred as desirable to be 
 adopted by him. Miss Craven had simply not been 
 in his thoughts. Face to face with the Infinite
 
 58 
 
 A GKAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 one hesitates to give up one's attention to a question 
 of an income that may be indicated by five figures 
 only. 
 
 But at the end of a week, he received a letter 
 from his father, who was Lord Fotheringay, and 
 this letter rang many changes upon the five-figure- 
 income question. The question was more than all 
 the Infinities to Lord Fotheringay, and he suggested 
 as much in writing to his son. 
 
 " Miss Craven is all that is desirable, " the letter 
 had said. " Of course she is not an American ; 
 but one cannot expect everything in this imperfect 
 world. Her money is, I understand, well invested 
 — not in land, thank heaven ! She is, in fact, a 
 CERTAINTY, and certainties are becoming rarer 
 every day. " 
 
 Here the letter went on to refer to some ab- 
 stract questions of the opera in Italy— it was to 
 the opera in Italy that Lord Fotheringay was, for 
 the time being, attached. The progress made by
 
 ON THE INFLUENCE OF AN OCEAN. 59 
 
 one of its ornaments — gifted with a singularly 
 flexible soprano — interested him greatly, and Harold 
 had invariably found that in proportion to the 
 interest taken by his father in the exponents of 
 certain arts— singing, dancing, and the drama — his 
 own allowance was reduced. He knew that his 
 father was not a rich man. for a peer. His income 
 was only a trifle over twelve thousand a year; but 
 he also knew that only for his father's weaknesses, 
 this sum should be sufficient for him to live on 
 with some degree of comfort. The weaknesses, 
 however, were there, and they had to be calculated 
 on. Harold calculated on them ; and after doing 
 the sum in simple subtraction with the sound 
 of the infinite ocean around him, he had asked 
 his friend Edmund Airey to pass a few hours in 
 the boat with him. Edmund had complied for 
 three consecutive afternoons, with the result that, 
 with three ridiculous stories from the Irish boat- 
 man, Harold had acquired a certain amount of
 
 60 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 sound advice from the friend who was in his con- 
 fidence. 
 
 He had made up his mind that, if Miss Craven 
 would marry him, he would endeavour to make her 
 the wife of a distinguished man. 
 
 That included everything, did it not? 
 
 He felt that he might realize the brilliant future 
 predicted for him by his friends when he was the 
 leader of the party of the hour at Oxford. The 
 theory of the party was — like everything that 
 comes from Oxford — eminently practical. The 
 Regeneration of Humanity by means of Natural 
 Scenery was its foundation. Its advocates proved 
 to their own satisfaction that, in every question of 
 morality and the still more important question of 
 artistic feeling, heredity was not the dominant 
 influence, but natural scenery. 
 
 By the party Harold was regarded as the long- 
 looked-for Man — what the world wanted was a Man, 
 they declared, and he was destined to be the Man.
 
 ON THE INFLUENCE OF AN OCEAN. 61 
 
 He had travelled a good deal on leaving the 
 University, and in a year he had forgotten that 
 he had ever pretended that he held any theory. 
 A theory he had come to believe to be the paper 
 fortress of the Immature. But the Man— that was 
 a different thing. He hoped that he might yet 
 prove himself to be a man. so that, after all, his 
 friends — they had also ceased to theorize — might 
 not have predicted in vain. 
 
 Like many young men without experience, he 
 believed that Parliament was a great power. If 
 anyone had told him that the art of gerrymander- 
 ing is greater than the art of governing, he would 
 not have known Avhat his informant meant. 
 
 His aspirations took the direction of a seat in 
 the House of Commons. In spite of the fact of his 
 being the son of Lord Fotheringay, he believed 
 that he might make his mark in that Assembly. 
 The well-known love of the Voter for social 
 purity — not necessarily in Beer — and his intolerance
 
 62 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 of idleness — excepting, of course, when it is paid 
 for by an employer — had, he knew, to be counted 
 on. Lord Fotheringay was not, he felt, the ideal 
 of the Working man, but he hoped he might be 
 able to convince the Working man — the Voter — 
 that Lord Fotheringay's most noted characteristics 
 had not descended to his son. 
 
 From his concern on this point it will be readily 
 understood how striking a figure was the Voter, in 
 his estimation. 
 
 It is not so easy to understand how, with that 
 ideal Voter — that stern unbending moralist — before 
 his eyes, he should feel that there was a great 
 need for him to be possessed of money before 
 offering himself to any constituency. The fact 
 remained, however, that everyone to whom he 
 had confided his Parliamentary aspirations, had 
 assured him at the outset that money had to be 
 secured before a constituency could be reckoned 
 on. His friend Edmund Airey had still further
 
 ON THE INFLUENCE OF AN OCEAN. 63 
 
 impressed upon him this fact; and now he had 
 made up his mind that his aspirations should not 
 be discouraged through the lack of money. 
 
 He would ask Helen Craven that very night if 
 she would have the goodness to marry him.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ON THE ADVANTAGES OF A FULL MOON. 
 
 WHY the fact of his having made up his mind to 
 ask Miss Craven who, without being an American, 
 still possessed many qualities which are generally 
 accepted as tending to married happiness, should 
 cause him to feel a great longing to leave Castle 
 Innisfail, its occupants, and its occupations behind 
 him for evermore, it is difficult to explain on any 
 rational grounds. That feeling was, however, upon 
 him, and he strode away across the billowy moor- 
 land in the direction of the cliffs of the fjord known 
 as Lough Suangorm. 
 
 The moon was at its full. It had arisen some 
 
 64
 
 ON THE ADVANTAGES OF A FULL MOON. 65 
 
 little way up the sky and was showering its red 
 gold down the slopes of the two cone-shaped 
 mountains that guard the pass of Lamdhu; the 
 deep glen was flooded with moonlight — Harold 
 could perceive in its hollows such objects as were 
 scarcely visible on the ordinary gray days of the 
 West of Ireland. Then he walked until he was on 
 the brink of the great cliffs overhanging the lough. 
 From the high point on which he stood he could 
 follow all the curves of the lough out to the 
 headlands at its entrance seven miles away. Beyond 
 those headlands the great expanse of sea was 
 glittering splendidly in the moonlight, though the 
 moon had not risen high enough to touch the 
 restless waters at the base of the cliffs on which 
 he stood. The waters were black as they struggled 
 within their narrow limits and were strangled in 
 the channel. Only a white thread of surf marked 
 the breaking place of the waves upon the cliffs. 
 He went down the little track, made among the 
 vol. i. 5
 
 66 A GKAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 rocks of the steep slope, until he reached the 
 natural cavern that bore the name of the Banshee's 
 Cave. 
 
 It was scarcely half-way up the face of the 
 cliff. From that hollow in the rocks the descent 
 to the waters of the lough was sheer; but the 
 cave was easily accessible by a zig-zag path leading 
 up from a small ledge of rocks which, being pro- 
 tected by a reef that started up abruptly half a 
 dozen yards out in the narrow channel, served as a 
 landing place for the fishing boats, of which 
 there were several owned in the tiny village of 
 Carrigorm. 
 
 He stood at the entrance to the cavern, think- 
 ing, not upon the scene which, according to the 
 boatman's story, had been enacted at the place 
 several hundreds — perhaps thousands (the chrono- 
 logy of Irish legends is vague) — of years before, 
 but upon his own prospects. 
 
 ' It is done," he said, looking the opposite
 
 OX THE ADVANTAGES OF A FULL MOON. 67 
 
 cliffs straight in the face, as though they were 
 Voters — (candidates usually look at the Voters 
 straight in the face the first time they address them). 
 ' It is done ; I cast it to the winds — to the seas, 
 that are as indifferent to man's affairs as the winds. 
 I must be content to live without it. The career 
 — that is enough!" 
 
 What it was that he meant to cast to the indif- 
 ference of the seas and the winds was nothing 
 more than a sentiment — a vague feeling that he 
 could not previously get rid of— a feeling that 
 man's life without woman's love was something 
 incomplete and unsatisfactory. 
 
 He had had his theory on this subject as well 
 as on others long ago — he had gone the length of 
 embodying it in sonnets. 
 
 Was it now to go the way of the other imprac- 
 ticable theories? 
 
 He had cherished it for long. If it had not 
 been dear to him he would not have subjected
 
 68 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 himself to the restriction of the sonnet in writing 
 about it. He would have adopted the common- 
 place and facile stanza. But a sonnet is a 
 shrine. 
 
 He had felt that whatever might happen to him, 
 however disappointed he might become with the 
 world and the things of the world, that great 
 and splendid love was before him, and he felt that 
 to realize it would be to forget all disappoint- 
 ments — to forget all the pangs which the heart of 
 man knows when its hour of disillusion comes. 
 
 Love was the reward of the struggle — the deep. 
 sweet draught that refreshes the heart of the 
 toiler, he felt. In whatever direction illusion may 
 lie, love was not in that direction. 
 
 That had been his firm belief all his life, and 
 now he was standing at the entrance to the cavern — 
 the cavern that was associated with a story of 
 love stronger than death — and he had just assured 
 himself that he had flung to the seas and the
 
 OX THE ADVANTAGES OF A FULL MOOX. 69 
 
 winds all his hopes of that love which had been 
 in his dreams. 
 
 "It is gone — it is gone!" he cried, looking down 
 at that narrow part of the lough where the boat 
 had been tumbling during the afternoon. 
 
 What had that adviser of his said? He remem- 
 bered something of his words — something about 
 marriage being a guarantee of love. 
 
 Harold laughed grimly as he recalled the words. 
 He knew better. The love that he had looked for 
 was not such as was referred to by his friend 
 Mr. Airey. It was — 
 
 But what on earth was the good of trying to 
 recall what it was? The diamonds that Queen 
 Guinevere flung into the river, made just the same 
 splash as common stones would have done under the 
 same circumstances : and the love which he had 
 cherished was, when cast to the winds, no more 
 worthy of being thought precious than the many 
 other ideas which he had happily rid himself
 
 70 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 of in the course of his walk through the world. 
 
 This was how he repressed the thought of his 
 conversation with his friend; and after a while the 
 recollections that he wished to suppress yielded to 
 his methods. 
 
 Once more the influences of the place — the spectacle 
 of the infinite mountains, the voice of the infinite 
 sea — asserted themselves as they had done during 
 the first week of his arrival at the Castle. The 
 story of the legendary Prince and Princess came 
 back to him as though it were the embodiment of 
 the influences of the region of romance in the midst 
 of which he was standing. 
 
 What had Brian the boatman said? The beautiful 
 girl had crossed the narrow channel of the lough 
 night after night and had climbed the face of the 
 cliffs to her lover at their dizzy try sting-place — the 
 place where he was now standing. 
 
 Even while he thought upon the details, as carefully 
 narrated by the boatman, the moon rose high enough
 
 ON THE ADVANTAGES OF A FULL MOON. 71 
 
 to send her rays sweeping over the full length of 
 the lough. For a quarter of an hour a single thin 
 crag of the Slieve Gorm mountains had stood between 
 the moon and the narrowing of the lough. The 
 orb rose over the last thin peak of the crag. The 
 lough through all its sinuous length flashed beneath 
 his eyes like a Malayan crease, and in the waters 
 just below the cliffs which a moment before had 
 been black, he saw a small boat being rowed by a 
 white figure. 
 
 8 That is the lovely Princess of the story, " said 
 he. " She is in white — of course they are all in 
 white, these princesses. It's marvellous what a 
 glint of moonlight can do. It throws a glamour 
 over the essentially commonplace, the same way 
 that — well, that that fancy known as love does upon 
 occasions, otherwise the plain features of a woman 
 would perish from the earth and not be perpetuated. 
 The lumpy daughter of the village who exists simply 
 to show what an artist was Jean Francois Millet,
 
 72 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 appears down there to float through the moonlight 
 
 like the restless spirit of a princess. Is she coming 
 
 to meet the spirit of her lover at their old trysting- 
 
 place? Ah, no, she is probably about to convey 
 a pannikin of worms for bait to one of the fishing 
 boats."
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OX THE ZIG-ZAG TRACK. 
 
 HAROLD WYNNE was in one of those moods 
 which struggle for expression through the medium 
 of bitter phrases. He felt that he did well to be 
 cynical. Had he not outlived his belief in love as 
 a necessity of life? 
 
 He watched with some degree of interest the 
 progress of the tiny boat rowed by the white figure. 
 He had tried to bring himself to believe that the 
 figure was that of a rough fisher-girl — the fisher- 
 girls are not rough, however, on that part of the 
 coast, and he knew it, only his mood tended to 
 roughness. He tried to make himself believe that 
 
 73
 
 /4 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 a coarse jest shrieked through the moonlight to 
 reach the ears of an appreciatively coarse fisher- 
 man, would not be inconsistent with the appearance 
 of that white figure. He felt quite equal to the 
 act of looking beneath the glory and the glamour 
 of the moonlight and of seeing there only the 
 commonplace. He was, he believed, in a mood to 
 revel in the disillusion of a man. 
 
 And yet he watched the progress of the boat 
 through the glittering waters, without removing 
 his eyes from it. 
 
 The white figure in the boat was so white as 
 to seem the centre of the light that flashed along 
 the ripples and silvered the faces of the cliffs— so 
 much was apparent to him in spite of his mood. 
 As the boat approached the landing-place at the 
 ledge of rock a hundred feet below him, he also 
 perceived that the rower handled her oars in a 
 scientific way unknown to the fisher-girls; and the 
 next thing that he noticed was that she wore a
 
 ON THE ZIG-ZAG TRACK. 75 
 
 straw hat and a blouse of a pattern that the fisher- 
 girls were powerless to imitate, though the skill 
 was easily available to the Mary Anns and the 
 Matilda Janes who steer (indifferently) perambu- 
 lators through the London parks. He was so 
 interested in what he saw, that he had not sufficient 
 presence of mind to resume his cynical mutterings, 
 or to inquire if it was possible that the fashion of 
 the year as regards sailor hats and blouses, was a 
 repetition of that of the period of the Princess 
 Fither. 
 
 He was more than interested — he was puzzled — 
 as the boat was skilfully run alongside the narrow 
 landing ledge at the foot of the cliffs, and when 
 the girl — the figure was clearly that of a girl — 
 landed — she wore yachting shoes — carrying with 
 her the boat's painter, which .she made fast in a 
 business-like way to one of the iron rings that 
 had been sunk in the face of the cliff for the 
 mooring of the fishing boats, he was more puzzled
 
 76 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 still. In another moment the girl was toiling up 
 the little zig-zag track that led to the summit of 
 the cliffs. 
 
 The track passed within a yard or two of the 
 entrance to the cavern. He thought it advisable 
 to step back out of the moonlight, so that the girl 
 should not see him. She was doubtless, he thought, 
 on her way to the summit of the cliffs, and she 
 would probably be startled if he were to appear 
 suddenly before her eyes. He took a step or two 
 back into the friendly shadow of the cavern, and 
 waited to hear her footsteps on the track above 
 him. 
 
 He waited in vain. She did not take that zig- 
 zag track that led to the cliffs above the cave. 
 He heard her jump — it was almost a feat — from 
 the track by which she had ascended, on to a flat 
 rock not a yard from the entrance to the cavern. 
 He shrunk still further back into the darkness, 
 and then there came before the entrance the most
 
 OX THE ZIG-ZAG TRACK. 77 
 
 entrancing figure of a girl that he had ever seen. 
 
 She stood there delightfully out of breath, with 
 the moonlight bringing out every gracious curve 
 in her shape. So he had seen the limelight reveal 
 the graces of a breathless danseuse, when taking 
 her "call. " 
 
 8 My dear Prince. " said the girl, with many a 
 gasp. a You have treated me very badly. It's a 
 pull — undeniably a pull— up those rocks, and for 
 the third time I have kept my tryst with you, only 
 to be disappointed." 
 
 She laughed, and putting a shapely foot — she 
 was by no means careful to conceal her stocking 
 above the ankle — upon a stone, she quietly and in a 
 matter-of-fact way, tied the lace of her yachting 
 shoe. 
 
 The stooping was not good for her — he felt 
 that, together with a few other matters incidental 
 to her situation. He waited for the long breath 
 he knew she would draw on straightening herself.
 
 78 A GRAY EYE OE SO. 
 
 It came. He hoped that her other shoe needed 
 tying ; but it did not. 
 
 He watched her as she stood there with her back 
 to him. She was sending her eyes out to the 
 Western headlands. 
 
 " No, my Prince ; on the whole I'm not disap- 
 pointed, " she said. " That picture repays me for 
 my toil by sea and land. What a picture ! But 
 what would it be to be here with — with — love!" 
 
 That was all she said. 
 
 He thought it was quite enough. 
 
 She stood there like a statue of white marble 
 set among the black rocks. She was absolutely 
 motionless for some minutes ; and then the sigh 
 that fluttered from her lips was, he knew, a different 
 expression altogether from that which had come 
 from her when she had straightened herself on 
 fastening her shoe. 
 
 His father was a connoisesur in sighs ; Harold 
 did not profess to have the same amount of know-
 
 ON THE ZIG-ZAG TRACK. 79 
 
 ledge on the subject, but still he knew something. 
 He could distinguish roughly on some points inci- 
 dental to the sigh as a medium of expression. 
 
 After that little gasp which was not quite a 
 gasp, she was again silent : then she whispered. 
 but by no means gently, the one word "Idiot!*' 
 and in another second she had sent her voice into 
 the still night in a wild musical cry — such a cry 
 as anyone gifted with that imaginative power which 
 Brian had declared to be so necessary for archae- 
 ological research, might attribute to the Banshee — 
 the White Lady of Irish legends. 
 
 She repeated the cry an octave higher and then 
 she executed what is technically known as a 
 8 scale" but ended with that same weird cry of the 
 Banshee. 
 
 Once again she was breathless. Her blouse was 
 turbulent just below her throat. 
 
 * If Brian does not cross himself until he feels 
 more fatigue than he would after a pretence at
 
 80 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 rowing, I'll never play Banshee again," said the 
 girl. " Ta, ta, mon Prince; a rivederci." 
 
 He watched her poise herself for the leap from 
 the rock where she was standing, to the track — 
 her grace was exquisite — it suggested that of the 
 lithe antelope. The leap took her beyond his sight, 
 and he did not venture immediately to a point 
 whence he could regain possession of her with his 
 eyes. But when he heard the sound of her voice 
 singing a snatch of song — it was actually " U amour 
 est un oiseau rebelle" — the Habanera from u Carmen" 
 — he judged that she had reached the second angle 
 of the zig-zag downward, and he took a step into 
 the moonlight. 
 
 There she went, lilting the song and keeping time 
 with her feet, until she reached the ledge where the 
 boat was moored. She unfastened the painter, hauled 
 the boat close, and he heard the sound of the plunge of 
 the bows as she jumped on one of the beams, the force 
 of her jump sending the boat far from shore.
 
 ON THE ZIG-ZAG TRACK. 81 
 
 She sat for some minutes on the beam amidship, 
 listlessly allowing the boat to drift away from the 
 rocks, then she put out her hands for the oars. 
 Her right hand grasped one, but there was none 
 for the left to grasp. Harold perceived that one 
 of the oars had disappeared. 
 
 There was the boat twenty yards from the rock 
 drifting away beyond the control of the girl. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ON THE HELPLESSNESS OF WOMAN. 
 
 THE girl had shown so much adroitness in the 
 management of the little craft previously, he felt — 
 with deep regret — that she would be quite ecpual 
 to her present emergency. He was mistaken. She 
 had reached the end of her resources in navigation 
 when she had run the boat alongside the landing- 
 place. He saw — with great satisfaction — that with 
 only one oar she was helpless. 
 
 What should he do? 
 
 That was what he asked himself when he saw 
 her dip her remaining oar into the water and paddle 
 a few strokes, making the boat describe an awkward
 
 ON THE HELPLESSNESS OF WOMAN. 83 
 
 circle and bringing it perilously close to a jagged 
 point of the reef that did duty as a natural break- 
 water for the mooring place of the boats. He came 
 to the conclusion that if he allowed her to continue 
 that sort of paddling, she would run the boat on 
 the reef, and he would be morally responsible for 
 the disaster and its consequences, whatever they 
 might be. He had never felt more conscientious 
 than at that moment. 
 
 He ran down the track to the landing ledge, but 
 before he had reached the latter, the girl had ceased 
 her efforts and was staring at him, her hands still 
 resting on the oar. 
 
 He had an uneasy feeling that he was scarcely 
 so picturesquely breathless as she had been, and 
 this consciousness did not tend to make him fluent 
 as he stood upon the rocky shelf not a foot above 
 the ridges of the silver ripples. 
 
 He found himself staring at her, just as she 
 was staring at him.
 
 84 A GEAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 Quite a minute had passed before he found words 
 to ask her if he could be of any help to her. 
 
 * I don't know, " she replied, in a tone very 
 different from that in which she had spoken at the 
 entrance to the cavern. * I don't really know. 
 One of the oars must have gone overboard while the 
 boat was moored. I scarcely know what I am to do. " 
 
 Tm afraid you're in a bad way! " said he, 
 shaking his head. The change in the girl's tone 
 was very amusing to him. She had become quite 
 demure; but previously, demureness had been in 
 the background. " Yes, I'm afraid your case is a 
 very bad one." 
 
 "So bad as that?" she asked. 
 
 " Well, perhaps not quite, but still bad enough, " 
 said he. " What do you want to do ? " 
 
 " To get home as soon as possible, " she replied, 
 without the pause of a second. 
 
 Her tone was expressive. It conveyed to him 
 the notion that she had just asked if he thought
 
 OX THE HELPLESSNESS OF WOMAN. 85 
 
 that she was an idiot. What could she want to 
 do if not to go home? 
 
 K In that case, " said he. L I should advise you to 
 take the oar to the sculling place in the centre 
 of the stern. The hoat is a stout one and will 
 scull well." 
 
 u But I don't know how to scull/ said she. in a 
 tone of real distress ; L and I don't think I can 
 begin to learn just now." 
 
 * There's something in that. " said he. L If I 
 were only aboard I could teach you in a short 
 time." 
 
 "But-" 
 
 She had begun her reply without the delay of 
 a second, but she did not get beyond the one word. 
 He felt that she did not need to do so : it was a 
 sentence by itself. 
 
 "Yes," said he, "as you say. I'm not aboard. 
 Shall I get aboard?" 
 
 "How could you?" she inquired, brightening up.
 
 86 A GKAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 " I can swim, " he replied. 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 " The situation is not so desperate as that, " 
 she cried. 
 
 He also laughed. 
 
 They both laughed together. 
 
 She stopped suddenly and looked up the cliffs 
 to the Banshee's Cave. 
 
 Was she wondering if he had been within hearing 
 when she had been — and not in silence — at the 
 entrance to the cave? 
 
 He felt that he had never seen so beautiful a 
 girl. Even making a liberal allowance for that 
 glamour of the moonlight, which he had tried to 
 assure himself was as deceptive as the glamour of 
 love, she was, he felt, the most beautiful girl he 
 had ever seen. 
 
 He crushed down every suggestion that came to 
 him as to the best way of helping her out of her 
 difficulty. It was his opportunity.
 
 ON THE HELPLESSNESS OF WOMAN. 87 
 
 Then she turned her eyes from the cliff and 
 looked at hira again. 
 
 There was something imploring in her look. 
 
 "Keep up your heart," said he. "Whose boat 
 is that, may I ask? " 
 
 ■ It belongs to a man named Brian — Brian 
 something or other — perhaps O'Donal." 
 
 ■ In that case I think it almost certain that you 
 will find a fishing line in the locker astern — a 
 fishing line and a tin bailer — the line will help 
 you out of the difficulty." 
 
 Before he had quite done speaking she was in the 
 stern sheets, groping with one hand in the little 
 locker. 
 
 She brought out, first, a small jar of whiskey, 
 secondly, a small pannikin that served a man's 
 purpose when he wished to drink the whiskey in 
 unusually small quantities, and was also handy in 
 bailing out the boat, and, thirdly, a fishing line- 
 wound about a square frame.
 
 88 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 She held up the last-named so that Harold might 
 see it. 
 
 a I thought it would be there, " said he. u Now 
 if you can only cast one end of that line ashore, 
 I will catch it and the boat will be alongside 
 the landing-place in a few minutes. Can you 
 throw? " 
 
 She was silent. She examined the hooks on the 
 whale-bone cross-cast. 
 
 He laughed again, for he perceived that she was 
 reluctant to boast of the possession of a skill which 
 was denied to all womankind. 
 
 Til explain to you what you must do," he 
 said. "Cut away the cast of hooks." 
 
 "But I have no knife." 
 
 " Then I'll throw mine into the bottom of your 
 boat. Look out." 
 
 Being a man, he was able to make the knife 
 alight within reasonable distance of the spot at 
 which he aimed. He saw her face brighten as she
 
 OX THE HELPLESSNESS OF WOMAN. 89 
 
 picked up the implement and, opening it. quickly 
 cut away the cast of hooks. 
 
 " Xow make fast the leaden sinker to the end 
 of the fishing line, unwind it all from the frame. 
 and then whirl the weight round and sling it 
 ashore — anywhere ashore." 
 
 She followed his instructions implicitly, and the 
 leaden weight fled through the air, with the sound 
 of a shell from a mortar. 
 
 " AY ell thrown ! " he cried, as it soared above 
 his head; and it was well thrown — so well that it 
 carried overboard every inch of the line and the 
 frame to which it was attached. 
 
 "How stupid of me!" she said. 
 
 "Of me, you mean," said he. K I should have 
 told you to make it fast. However, no harm is 
 done. I'll recover the weight and send it back 
 to you." 
 
 He had no trouble in effecting his purpose. He 
 threw the weight as gently as possible into the
 
 90 A GKAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 bow of the boat, she picked it up, and the line 
 was in her hands as he took in the slack and 
 hauled the boat alongside the shelf of rock. 
 
 It cannot have escaped notice that the system 
 of hauling which he adopted had the result of 
 bringing their hands together. They scarcely touched, 
 however. 
 
 "Thank you," said she, with profound coldness, 
 when the boat was alongside. 
 
 " Your case was not so desperate, after all, " 
 he remarked, with just a trifle less frigidity in his 
 tone, though he now knew that she was the most 
 beautiful girl he had ever seen. He had talked 
 of the glamour of moonlight. How could he have 
 been so ridiculous ? 
 
 B No, my case was not so very desperate, " she 
 said. u Thank you so much." 
 
 Did she mean to suggest that he should now 
 walk away ? 
 
 " I can't go, you know, until I am satisfied that
 
 ON THE HELPLESSNESS OF WOMAN. 91 
 
 your contretemps is at an end, " said he. a My 
 name is Wynne — Harold Wynne. I am a guest of 
 Lord Innisfail's. I dare say you know him. " 
 
 " No, " she replied. u I know nobody. * 
 
 "Nobody?" 
 
 " Nobody here. Of course I daily hear something 
 about Lord Innisfail and his guests. " 
 
 "You know Brian— he is somebody — the his- 
 torian of the region. Did you ever hear the story 
 of the Banshee ? " 
 
 She looked at him, but he nattered himself that his 
 face told her nothing of what she seemed anxious 
 to know. 
 
 " Yes, " she said, after a pause. K I do believe 
 that I heard the story of the Banshee — a princess, 
 was she not — a sort of princess— an Irish princess? " 
 
 ""Strictly Irish. It is said that the cry of the 
 White Lady is sometimes heard even on these 
 nights among the cliffs down which the Princess 
 flung herself. "
 
 92 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 u Really ? " said she,' turning her eyes to the sea. 
 " How strange ! " 
 
 " Strange ? well — perhaps. But Brian declares 
 that he has heard the cry with his own ears. I 
 have a friend who says, very coarsely, that if lies 
 were landed property Brian would be the largest 
 holder of real estate in the world. " 
 
 " Your friend does not understand Brian. " There 
 was more than a trace of indignation in her voice. 
 "Brian has imagination — so have all the people 
 about here. I must get home as soon as possible. 
 I thank you very much for your trouble. Good- 
 night. " 
 
 " I have had no trouble. Good-night. " 
 
 He took off his cap, and moved away — to the 
 extent of a single step. She was still standing in 
 the boat. 
 
 a By the way, " he said, as if the thought had 
 just occurred to him ; a do you intend going 
 overland ? "
 
 OX THE HELPLESSNESS OF WOMAN. 93 
 
 The glamour of the moonlight failed to conceal 
 the troubled look that came to her eyes. He 
 regained the step that he had taken away from 
 her, and remarked, K If you will be good enough 
 to allow me, I will scull you with the one oar to 
 any part of the coast that you may wish to reach. 
 It would be a pleasure to me. I have nothing 
 whatever to do. As a matter of fact, I don't see 
 that you have any choice in the matter. * 
 
 " I have not, " she said gravely. " I w^as a 
 fool — such a fool! But — the story of the Prin- 
 cess — " 
 
 " Pray don't make any confession to me, " said 
 he. ■ If I had not heard the story of the Princess, 
 should I be here either ? " 
 
 " My name, " said she, " is Beatrice Avon. My 
 father's name you may have heard — most people 
 have heard his name, though I'm afraid that not 
 so many have read his books." 
 
 * But I have met your father, " said he. " If he
 
 94 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 is Julius Anthony Avon, I met him some years 
 ago. He breakfasted with my tutor at Oxford. I 
 have read all his books." 
 
 " Oh, come into the boat," she cried with a laugh. 
 "I feel that we have been introduced." 
 
 " And so we have, " said he, stepping upon the 
 gunwale so as to push off the boat. " Now, where 
 is your best landing place ? " 
 
 She pointed out to him a white cottage at the 
 entrance to a glen on the opposite coast of the 
 lough, just below the ruins — they could be seen 
 by the imaginative eye— of the Castle of Carrigorm. 
 The cottage was glistening in the moonlight. 
 
 a That is where we have been living — my father 
 and I — for the past month," said she. "He is 
 engaged on a new work — a History of Irish 
 Patriotism, and he has begun by compiling a 
 biographical dictionary of Irish Informers. He is 
 making capital progress with it. He has already 
 got to the end of the seventh volume and he has
 
 OX THE HELPLESSNESS OF WOMAN. 95 
 
 very nearly reached the letter C — oh. yes. he is 
 making rapid progress." 
 
 "But why is he at this place? Is he working 
 up the Irish legends as well ? " 
 
 " It seems that the French landed here some 
 time or other, and that was the beginning of a 
 new era of rebellions. My father is dealing with 
 the period, and means to have his topography strictly 
 accurate." 
 
 B Yes," said Harold. " if he carefully avoids every- 
 thing that he is told in Ireland his book may tend 
 to accuracy."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ON SCIENCE AND ART. 
 
 A BOAT being urged onwards — not very rapidly — 
 by a single oar resting in a hollow in the centre 
 of the stern, and worked from side to side by a 
 man in evening dress, is not a sight of daily occur- 
 rence. This may have suggested itself to the girl 
 who was seated on the midship beam ; but if she 
 was inclined to laugh, she succeeded in controlling 
 her impulses. 
 
 He found that he was more adroit at the science 
 of marine propulsion than he had fancied he was. 
 The boat was making quite too rapid progress for 
 his desires, across the lough. 
 
 96
 
 ON SCIENCE AND ART. 97 
 
 He asked the girl if she did not think it well 
 that she should "become acquainted with at least 
 the scientific principle which formed the basis of 
 the marine propeller. It was extremely unlikely 
 that such an emergency as that which had lately 
 arisen should ever again make a demand upon her 
 resources, but if such were ever to present itself, 
 it might be well for her to be armed to over- 
 come it. 
 
 Yes, she said, it was extremely unlikely that she 
 should ever again be so foolish, and she hoped that 
 her father would not be uneasy at her failure to 
 return at the hour at which she had told him to 
 expect her. 
 
 He stopped rocking the oar from side to side in 
 order to assure her that she could not possibly 
 be delayed more than a quarter of an hour through 
 the loss of the oar. 
 
 She said that she was very glad, and that she 
 really thought that the boat was making more 
 
 vol. i. 7
 
 98 
 
 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 rapid progress with his one oar than it had done 
 in the opposite direction with her two oars. 
 
 He began to perceive that his opportunities of 
 making her acquainted with the science of the 
 screw propeller were dwindling. He faced the 
 oar boldly, however, and he felt that he had at 
 least succeeded in showing her how effective was 
 the application of a scientific law to the achieve- 
 ment of his end — assuming that that end was the 
 driving of the boat through the waters. 
 
 He was not a fool. He knew very well that 
 there is nothing which so appeals to the interest 
 of a woman as seeing a man do something that 
 she cannot do. 
 
 When, after five minutes' work, he turned his 
 head to steer the boat, he found that she was 
 watching him. 
 
 She had previously been watching the white 
 glistening cottage, with the light in one window only. 
 
 The result of his observation was extremely satis-
 
 OX SCIENCE ABB ART. 99 
 
 factory to him. He resumed his toil without a word. 
 
 And this was how it happened that the boat 
 made so excellent a passage across the lough. 
 
 It was not until the keel grated upon the sand 
 that the girl spoke. She made a splendid leap 
 from the bows, and. turning, asked him if he 
 would care to pay a visit to her father. 
 
 He replied that he feared that he might jeopar- 
 dize the biography of some interesting informer 
 whose name might occur at the close of the letter 
 13. He hoped that he would be allowed to borrow 
 the boat for his return to the cliffs, and to row 
 it back the next day to where it was at the 
 moment he was speaking. 
 
 His earnest sculling of the boat had not made 
 all thought for the morrow impracticable. He 
 had been reflecting through the silence, how he 
 might make the chance of meeting once more this 
 girl whose face he had seen for the first time half 
 an hour before.
 
 100 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 She had already given him an absurd amount 
 of trouble, she said. The boat was one that she 
 had borrowed from Brian, and Brian could easily 
 row it across next morning. 
 
 But he happened to know that Brian was to 
 be in attendance on Mr. Durdan all the next day. 
 Mr. Durdan had come to the West solely for the 
 purpose of studying the Irish question on the 
 spot. He had, consequently, spent all his time 
 deep-sea fishing. 
 
 " So you perceive that there's nothing for it 
 but for me to bring back the boat, Miss Avon," 
 said he. 
 
 " You do it so well, " she said, with a tone of 
 enthusiasm in her voice. " I never admired any- 
 thing so much — your sculling, I mean. And 
 perhaps I may learn something about — was it the 
 scientific principle that you were kind enough to 
 offer to teach me ? " 
 
 ■■ The scientific principle, " said he, with an
 
 OX SCIENCE AND ART. 101 
 
 uneasy feeling that the girl had seen through his 
 artifice to prolong the crossing of the lough. 
 * Yes, you certainly should know all about the 
 scientific principle.*' 
 
 "I feel so. indeed. Good-night." 
 
 B Good-night. " said he, preparing to push the 
 boat off the sand where it had grounded. " Good- 
 night. By the way. it was only when we were 
 out with Brian in the afternoon that he told us 
 the story of the Princess and her lover. He added 
 that the cry of the White Lady would probably 
 be heard when night came. " 
 
 ■ Perhaps you may hear it yet. " said she. "Good- 
 night."' 
 
 She had run up the sandy beach, before he had 
 pushed off the boat, and she never looked round. 
 
 He stood with one foot on the gunwale of the 
 boat in act to push into deep water, thinking that 
 perhaps she might at the last moment look round. 
 
 She did not.
 
 102 A GKAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 He caught another glimpse of her beyond the 
 furze that crowned a ridge of rocks. But she 
 had her face steadfastly set toward the white 
 cottage. 
 
 He threw all his weight upon the oar which he 
 was using as a pole, and out the boat shot into 
 the deep water. 
 
 u Great heavens ! " said Edmund Airey. a Where 
 have you been for the past couple of hours ? " 
 
 " Where ? " repeated Miss Craven in a tone of 
 voice that should only be assumed when the eyes 
 of the speaker are sparkling. But Miss Craven's 
 eyes were not sparkling. Their strong point was 
 not in that direction. " I'm afraid you must give 
 an account of yourself, Mr. Wynne, " she continued. 
 She was standing by the side of Edmund Airey,. 
 within the embrace of the mighty antlers of the 
 ancient elk in the hall. The sound of dance 
 music was in the air, and Miss Craven's face was 
 flushed.
 
 ON SCIENCE AND ART. 103 
 
 u To give an account of myself would be to 
 place myself on a level of dulness with the auto- 
 biographers whose reminiscences we yawn over." 
 
 " Then give us a chance of yawning, " cried 
 Miss Craven. 
 
 "You do not need one," said he. "Have you 
 not been for some time by the side of a Member 
 of Parliament ? " 
 
 u He has been over the cliffs, " suggested the 
 Member of Parliament. He was looking at Harold's 
 shoes, which bore tokens of having been ill-treated 
 beyond the usual ill-treatment of shoes with bows 
 of ribbon above the toes. 
 
 "Yes," said Harold. K Over the cliffs." 
 
 "At the Banshee's Cave, I'm certain," said Miss 
 Craven. 
 
 "Yes, at the Banshee's Cave." 
 
 "How lovely! And you saw the White Lady? 5 * 
 she continued. 
 
 "Yes, I saw the White Lady."
 
 104 A GEAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 " And you heard her cry at the entrance to the 
 cave?" 
 
 a Yes, I heard her cry at the entrance to the cave. " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said she. 
 
 u Utter nonsense ! " said he. " I must ask Lady 
 Innisfail to dance." 
 
 He crossed the hall to where Lady Innisfail was 
 seated. She was fanning herself and making 
 sparkling replies to the inanities of Mr. Durdan, 
 who stood beside her. She had been engaged in 
 every dance, Harold knew, from the extra gravity 
 of her daughter. 
 
 " What does he mean ? " Miss Craven asked of 
 Edmund Airey in a low — almost an anxious, tone. 
 
 " Mean ? Why, to dance with Lady Innisfail. 
 He is a man of determination." 
 
 u What does he mean by that nonsense about 
 the Banshee's Cave?" 
 
 " Is it nonsense ?" 
 
 " Of course it is. Does anyone suppose that the
 
 ON SCIENCE AND AET. 105 
 
 legend of the White Lady is anything but nonsense ? 
 Didn't you ridicule it at dinner ? " 
 
 ■ At dinner ; oh, yes : but then you must remember 
 that no one is altogether discreet at dinner. That 
 cold entree — the Russian salad — " 
 
 u A good many people are discreet neither at 
 dinner nor after it." 
 
 " Our friend Harold, for instance ? Oh, I have 
 every confidence in him. I know his mood. I 
 have experienced it myself. I, too, have stood in a 
 sculpturesque attitude and attire, on a rock over- 
 hanging a deep sea, and I have been at the point 
 of dressing again without taking the plunge that 
 I meant to take." 
 
 " You mean that he — that he — oh, I don't know 
 what you mean." 
 
 u I mean that if he had been so fortunate as to 
 come upon you suddenly at the Banshee's Cave or 
 wherever he was to-night, he would have — well, he 
 would have taken the plunge. "
 
 106 A GKAY EYE OK SO. 
 
 He saw the girl's face become slightly roseate 
 in spite of the fact of her being the most self- 
 controlled person whom he had ever met. He 
 perceived that she appreciated his meaning to a 
 shade. 
 
 He liked that. A man who is gifted with the 
 power of expressing his ideas in various shades, 
 likes to feel that his power is appreciated. He 
 knew that there are some people who fancy that 
 every question is susceptible of being answered by 
 yea or nay. He hated such people. 
 
 " The plunge ? " said Miss Craven, with an in- 
 genuousness that confirmed his high estimate of 
 her powers of appreciation. " The plunge ? But 
 the Banshee's Cave is a hundred feet above the 
 water. " 
 
 " But men have taken headers — " 
 
 " They have, " said she, " and therefore we should 
 finish our waltz." 
 
 They did finish their waltz.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 ON HEAVEN AND THE LORD CHANCELLOR. 
 
 MR. DURDAN was explaining something — he usually 
 was explaining something. When he had been a 
 member of the late Government his process of 
 explaining someftring was generally regarded as a 
 fine effort at mystification. In private his explana- 
 tions were sometimes intelligible. As Harold entered 
 the room where a straggling breakfast was proceed- 
 ing — everything except dinner had a tendency to be 
 straggling at Castle Innisfail — Mr. Durdan was 
 explaining how Brian had been bewildered. 
 
 It was a profitable theme, especially for a man 
 who fondly believed that he had the power of 
 
 107
 
 108 A GKAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 reproducing what lie imagined to be the Irish 
 brogue of the boatman. 
 
 Harold gathered that Mr. Durdan had already- 
 had a couple of hours of deep-sea fishing in the 
 boat with Brian — the servants were all the morn- 
 ing carrying into the dining-room plates of fish of 
 his catching (audibly sneered at by the fly-fishers, 
 who considered their supreme failures superior to 
 the hugest successes of the deep-sea fishers). 
 
 But the fishing was not to the point. What Mr. 
 Durdan believed to be very much to the point 
 were the "begorras," the "acushlas," the "arrahs" 
 which he tried to make his auditors believe the 
 boatman had uttered in telling him how he had 
 been awakened early in the night by hearing the 
 cry of the Banshee. 
 
 Every phrase supposed to have been employed 
 by the boatman was reproduced by the narrator; 
 and his auditors glanced meaningly at one another. 
 It would have required a great deal of convincing
 
 0>~ HEAYEX AND THE LORD CHANCELLOR. 109 
 
 to make them fancy for a moment that the lan- 
 guage of Brian consisted of an imaginary Irish 
 exclamation preceding a purely Cockney — occasion- 
 ally Yorkshire — idiom. But the narrator continued 
 his story, and seemed convinced that his voice was 
 an exact reproduction of Brian's brogue. 
 
 Harold thought that he would try a little of 
 something that was not fish — he scarcely minded 
 what he had. provided it was not fish, he told the 
 servant. And as there was apparently some little 
 difficulty in procuring such a comestible, Harold 
 drank some coffee and listened to Mr. Durdan's 
 story — he recommenced it for everyone who entered 
 the breakfast-room. 
 
 Yes, Brian had distinctly heard the cry of the 
 Banshee, he said; but a greater marvel had hap- 
 pened, for he found one of his boats that had 
 been made fast on the opposite shore of the lough 
 in the early part of the night, moored at the land- 
 ing-ledge at the base of the cliffs beneath the
 
 110 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 Banshee's Cave. By the aid of many a gratui- 
 tous "begorra," Mr. Durdan indicated the condition 
 of perplexity in which the boatman had been all 
 the time he was baiting the lines. He explained 
 that the man had attributed to "herself — mean- 
 ing, of course, the White Lady — the removal of 
 the boat from the one side of the lough to the 
 other. It was plain that the ghost of the Prin- 
 cess was a good oarswoman, too, for a single 
 paddle only was found in the boat. It was so 
 like a ghost, he had confided to Mr. Durdan, to 
 make a cruise in a way that was contrary — the 
 -accent on the second syllable — to nature. 
 
 " He has put another oar aboard and is now 
 rowing the boat back to its original quarters," said 
 Mr. Durdan, in conclusion. * But he declares that, 
 be the Powers!" — here the narrator assumed once 
 more the hybrid brogue — u if the boat was meddled 
 with by 'herself again he would call the priest to 
 bless the craft, and where would ' herself be then ? "
 
 ON HEAVEN AXD THE LORD CHANCELLOR. Ill 
 
 "Where indeed?" said Lord Innisfail. 
 
 Harold said nothing. He was aware that Edmund 
 was looking at him intently. Did he suspect 
 anything, Harold wondered. 
 
 He gave no indication of being more interested 
 in the story than anyone present, and no one 
 present seemed struck with it — no one, except 
 perhaps, Miss Craven, who had entered the room 
 late, and was thus fortunate enough to obtain the 
 general drift of what Mr. Durdan was talking 
 about, without having her attention diverted by 
 his loving repetition of the phrases of local colour. 
 
 Miss Craven heard the story, laughed, glanced 
 at her plate, and remarked with some slyness that Mr. 
 Durdan was clearly making strides in his acquaint- 
 ance with the Irish question. She then glanced — 
 confidentially — at Edmund Airey, and finally — rather 
 less confidentially — at Harold. 
 
 He was eating of that which was not fish, and 
 giving a good deal of attention to it.
 
 112 A GKAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 Miss Craven thought he was giving quite too 
 much attention to it. She suspected that he knew 
 more about the boat incident than he cared to 
 express, or why should he be giving so much 
 attention to his plate? 
 
 As for Harold himself, he was feeling that it 
 would be something of a gratification to him if a 
 fatal accident were to happen to Brian. 
 
 He inwardly called him a meddlesome fool. Why 
 should he take it upon him to row the boat across 
 the lough, when he, Harold, had been looking 
 forward during the sleepless hours of the night, 
 to that exercise? When he had awakened from an 
 early morning slumber, it was with the joyous 
 feeling that nothing could deprive him of that row 
 across the lough. 
 
 And yet he had been deprived of it, therefore 
 he felt some regret that, the morning being a 
 calm one, Brian's chances of disaster when crossing 
 the lough were insignificant.
 
 ON HEAVEN AND THE LORD CHANCELLOR. 113 
 
 All the time that the judge was explaining- in 
 that lucid style which was the envy of his brethren 
 on the Bench, how impossible it would be for the 
 Son of Porcupine to purge himself of the contempt 
 which was heaped upon him owing to his unseemly 
 behaviour at a recent race meeting — the case of 
 the son of so excellent a father as Porcupine 
 turning out badly was jeopardizing the future 
 of Evolution as a doctrine — Harold was trying to 
 devise some plan that should make him independent 
 of the interference of the boatman. He did not 
 insist on the plan being legitimate or even reason- 
 able ; all that he felt was that he must cross the 
 lough. 
 
 He thought of the girl whom he had seen in that 
 atmosphere of moonlight; and somehow he came 
 to think of her as responsible for her exquisite 
 surroundings. There was nothing commonplace 
 about her — that was what he felt most strongly 
 as he noticed the excellent appetites of the young 
 
 vol. i. 8
 
 114 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 women around him. Even Miss Stafford, who 
 hoped to be accepted as an Intellect embodied in 
 a mere film of flesh — she went to the extreme 
 length of cultivating a Brow — tickled her trout with 
 the point of her fork much less tenderly than the 
 fisherman who told her the story — with an im- 
 promptu bravura passage or two — of its capture, 
 had done. 
 
 But the girl whom he had seen in the moon- 
 light—whom he was yearning to see in the sun- 
 light — was as refined as a star. " As refined as 
 a star," he actually murmured, when he found 
 himself with an unlighted cigar between his fingers 
 on that part of the terrace which afforded a fine 
 view of the lough — the narrow part as well — 
 his eyes were directed to the narrow part. " As 
 refined as a star — a — " 
 
 He turned himself round with a jerk. "A star?" 
 
 His father's letter was still in his pocket. It 
 
 contained in the course of its operatic clauses some
 
 ON HEAYEX AND THE LORD CHANCELLOR. 1 1 !j 
 
 references to a Star — a Star. who. alas ! was not 
 refined — who, on the contrary, was expensive. 
 
 He struck a match very viciously and lit his 
 cigar. 
 
 Miss Craven had just appeared on the terrace. 
 
 He dropped his still flaming match on the hard 
 gravel walk and put his foot upon it. 
 
 "A star!" 
 
 He was very vicious. 
 
 " She is not a particularly good talker, but she 
 is a most fascinating listener," said Edmund Airey. 
 who strolled up. 
 
 " I have noticed so much — when you have been 
 the talker, " said Harold. * It is only to the bril- 
 liant talker that the fascinating listener appeals. 
 By the way, how does 'fascinated listener' sound 
 as a phrase? Haven't I read somewhere that the 
 speeches of an eminent politician were modelled 
 on the principle of catching birds by night? You 
 flash a lamp upon them and they may be captured
 
 116 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 by the score. The speeches were compared to the 
 lantern and the public to the birds." 
 
 "Gulls," said Edmund. "My dear Harold, I did 
 not come out here to exchange opinions with you 
 on the vexed question of vote-catching or gulls — 
 it will be time enough to do so when you have 
 found a constituency." 
 
 " Quite. And meantime I am to think of Miss 
 Craven as a fascinating listener? That's what you 
 have come to impress upon me." 
 
 " I mean that you should give yourself a fair 
 chance of becoming acquainted with her powers as 
 a listener — I mean that you should talk to her on 
 an interesting topic." 
 
 "Would to heaven that I had your capacity of 
 being interesting on all topics." 
 
 " The dullest man on earth when talking to a 
 woman on love as a topic, is infinitely more inter- 
 esting to her than the most brilliant man when 
 talking to her on any other topic."
 
 ON HEAVEN AXD THE LORD CHANCELLOR. 117 
 
 ■ You suggest a perilous way to the dull man 
 of becoming momentarily interesting." 
 
 " Of course I know the phrase which, in spite 
 of being the composition of a French philosopher, 
 is not altogether devoid of truth — yes, ' Qui parte 
 d' amour fait V amour '." 
 
 B Only that love is born, not made." 
 
 K Great heavens ! have you learned that — that, 
 with your father's letter next your heart? " 
 
 Harold laughed. 
 
 " Do you fancy that I have forgotten your con- 
 versation in the boat yesterday ? " said he. " Heaven 
 on one side and the Lord Chancellor on the other." 
 
 ■ And you have come to the conclusion that you are 
 on the side of heaven ? You are in a perilous way. '" 
 
 ■ Your logic is a trifle shaky, friend. Besides, 
 you have no right to assume that I am on the 
 side of heaven." 
 
 K There is a suggestion of indignation in your 
 voice that gives me hope that you are not in so
 
 118 A GKAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 evil a case as I may have suspected. Do you think 
 that another afternoon in the boat — " 
 
 " Would make me on the side of the Lord Chan- 
 cellor ? I doubt it. But that is not equivalent to 
 saying that I doubt the excellence of your advice. " 
 
 "Yesterday afternoon I nattered myself that I 
 had given you such advice as commended itself to 
 you, and yet now you tell me that love is born, 
 not made. The man who believes that is past being 
 advised. It is, I say, the end of wisdom. What 
 has happened since yesterday afternoon ? " 
 
 a Nothing has happened to shake my confidence 
 in the soundness of your advice," said Harold, but 
 not until a pause had occurred — a pause of sufficient 
 duration to tell his observant friend that something 
 had happened. 
 
 " If nothing has happened — Miss Craven is going 
 to sketch the Round Tower at noon," said Edmund 
 — the Round Tower was some distance through the 
 romantic Pass of Lamdhu.
 
 OX HEAVEN AND THE LORD CHANCELLOR. 119 
 
 " The Round Tower will not suffer ; Miss Craven 
 is not one of the landscape libellers. " remarked Harold. 
 
 Just then Miss Innisfail hurried up with a face 
 lined with anxiety. 
 
 Miss Innisfail was the sort of girl who always 
 says, "It is I." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Airey, " she cried, " I have come to 
 entreat of you to do your best to dissuade mamma 
 from her wild notion — the wildest she has ever had. 
 You may have some restraining influence upon her. 
 She is trying to get up an Irish jig in the hall 
 after dinner — she has set her heart on it." 
 
 a I can promise you that if Lady Innisfail asks 
 me to be one of the performers I shall decline." 
 said Edmund. 
 
 " Oh, she has set her heart on bringing native 
 dancers for the purpose," cried the girl. 
 
 "That sounds serious," said Edmund. * Native 
 dances are usually very terrible visitations. I saw 
 one at Samoa."
 
 120 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 "I knew it — yes, I suspected as much," mur- 
 mured the girl, shaking her head. "Oh, we must 
 put a stop to it. You will help me, Mr. Airey ? " 
 
 "I am always on the side of law and order," 
 said Mr. Airey. " A mother is a great responsi- 
 bility, Miss Innisfail." 
 
 Miss Innisfail smiled sadly, shook her head again, 
 and fled to find another supporter against the 
 latest frivolity of her mother. 
 
 When Edmund turned about from watching her, 
 he saw that his friend Harold Wynne had gone 
 off with some of the yachtsmen — for every clay a 
 yachting party as well as deep-sea-fishing, and 
 salmon-fishing parties — shooting parties and even 
 archaeological parties were in the habit of setting 
 out from Castle Innisfail. 
 
 Was it possible that Harold intended spending 
 the day aboard the cutter, Edmund asked himself. 
 
 Harold's mood of the previous evening had been 
 quite intelligible to him — he had confessed to Miss
 
 OX HEAVEN AND THE LORD CHANCELLOR. 121 
 
 Craven that lie understood and even sympathized 
 with him. He was the man* who Avas putting off 
 the plunge as long as possible, he felt. 
 
 But he knew that that attitude, if prolonged, 
 not only becomes ridiculous, but positively verges 
 on the indecent. It is one thing to pause for a 
 minute on the brink of the deep water, and quite 
 another to remain shivering on the rock for half 
 a day. 
 
 Harold Wynne wanted money in order to realize 
 a legitimate ambition. But it so happened that 
 he could not obtain that money unless by marry- 
 ing Miss Craven — that was the situation of the 
 moment. But instead of asking Miss Craven if 
 she would have the goodness to marry him. he 
 was wandering about the coast in an aimless way. 
 
 Lady Innisfail was the most finished artist in match- 
 making that Edmund had ever met. So finished 
 an artist was she that no one had ever ventured 
 to suggest that she was a match-maker. As a
 
 122 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 matter of fact, her reputation lay in just the 
 opposite direction. She was generally looked upon 
 as a marrer of matches. This was how she had 
 achieved some of her most brilliant successes. She 
 was herself so fascinating that she attracted the 
 nicest men to her side; but, somehow, instead of 
 making love to her as they meant to do, they found 
 themselves making love to the nice girls with 
 whom she surrounded herself. When running upon 
 the love-making track with her, she switched them 
 on, so to speak, to the nice eligible girls, and they 
 became engaged before they quite knew what had 
 happened. 
 
 This was her art, Edmund knew, and he appre- 
 ciated it as it deserved. 
 
 She appreciated him as he deserved, he also 
 acknowledged; for she had never tried to switch 
 him on to any of her girls. By never making- 
 love to her he had proved himself to be no fit 
 subject for the exercise of her art.
 
 OX HEAVEN AND THE LORD CHANCELLOR. 123 
 
 If a man truly loves a woman he will marry 
 anyone whom she asks him to marry. 
 
 This, he knew, was the precept that Lady 
 Innisfail inculcated upon the young men — thev 
 were mostly very young men — who assured her 
 that thev adored her. It rarelv failed to bring 
 them to their senses, she had admitted to Edmund 
 in the course of a confidential lapse. 
 
 By bringing them to their senses she meant 
 inducing them to ask the right girls to marry 
 them. 
 
 Edmund felt that it was rather a pity that his 
 friend Harold had never adored Lady Innisfail. 
 Harold had always liked her too well to make love 
 to her. This was rather a pity. Edmund felt-. It 
 practically disarmed Lady Innisfail. otherwise she 
 would have taken care that he made straightforward 
 love to Miss Craven. 
 
 As for Harold, he strolled off with the yachtsmen. 
 giving them to understand that he intended sailing
 
 124 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 with them. The cutter was at her moorings in 
 the lough about a mile from the Castle, and there 
 was a narrow natural dock between the cliffs into 
 which the dingey ran to carry the party out to 
 the yacht. 
 
 It was at this point that Harold separated him- 
 self from the yachtsmen — not without some mut- 
 terings on their part and the delivery of a few 
 reproaches with a fresh maritime flavour about them. 
 
 " What was he up to at all ? " they asked of 
 one another. 
 
 He could scarcely have told these earnest inquirers 
 what he was up to. But his mood would have 
 been quite intelligible to them had they known 
 that he had, within the past half hour made up 
 his mind to let nothing interfere with his asking 
 Helen Craven if she would be good enough to 
 marry him.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 OX THE MYSTERY OF MAN. 
 
 HE meant to ask her at night. He had felt con- 
 vinced, on returning after his adventure in his 
 dinner dress, that nothing could induce him to 
 think of Miss Craven as a possible wife. While 
 sitting at breakfast, he had felt even more confi- 
 dent on this point ; and yet now his mind was made 
 up to ask her to marry him. 
 
 It must be admitted that his mood was a sin- 
 gular one, especially as, with his mind full of his 
 resolution to ask Miss Craven to marry him, he 
 was wandering around the rugged coastway, won- 
 dering by what means he could bring himself by
 
 126 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 the side of the girl with whom he had crossed the 
 lough on the previous night. 
 
 His mood will be intelligible to such persons as 
 have had friends who occasionally have found it 
 necessary to their well-being to become teetotallers. 
 It is well known that the fascination of the prospect 
 of teetotalism is so great for such persons that 
 the very thought of it compels them to rush off 
 in the opposite direction. They indulge in an 
 outburst of imbibing that makes even their best 
 friends stand aghast, and then they ' take the pledge ' 
 with the cheerfulness of a child. 
 
 Harold Wynne felt inclined to allow his feelings 
 an outburst, previous to entering upon a condition in 
 which he meant his feelings to be kept in subjection. 
 
 To engage himself to marry Miss Craven was, 
 he believed, equivalent to taking the pledge of the 
 teetotaller so far as his feelings were concerned. 
 
 Meantime, however, he remained unpledged and 
 with an unbounded sense of freedom.
 
 OF THE MYSTERY OF MAN. 127 
 
 And this was why he laughed loud and long 
 when he saw in the course of his stroll around 
 the cliffs, a small oar jammed in a crevice of the 
 rocks a hundred feet below where he was walking. 
 
 He laughed again when he had gone — not so 
 cautiously as he might have done — down to the 
 crevice and released the oar. 
 
 It was, he knew, the one that had gone adrift 
 from the boat the previous night. 
 
 He climbed the cliff to the Banshee's Cave and 
 deposited the piece of timber in the recesses of 
 that place. Then he lay down on the coarse herb- 
 age at the summit of the cliff until it was time 
 to drift to the Castle for lunch. Life at the Castle 
 involved a good deal of drifting. The guests drifted 
 out in many directions after breakfast and 
 occasionally drifted back to lunch, after which they 
 drifted about until the dinner hour. 
 
 While taking lunch he was in such good spirits 
 as made Lady Innisfail almost hopeless of him.
 
 128 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 Edmund Airey had told her the previous night that 
 Harold intended asking Miss Craven to marry him. 
 Now, however, perceiving how excellent were his 
 spirits, she looked reproachfully across the table 
 at Edmund. 
 
 She was mutely asking him — and he knew it — 
 how it was possible to reconcile Harold's good 
 spirits with his resolution to ask Helen Craven to 
 marry him ? She knew — and so did Edmund — 
 that high spirits and the Resolution are rarely 
 found in association. 
 
 An hour after lunch the girl with the Brow 
 entreated Harold's critical opinion on the subject 
 of a gesture in the delivery of a certain poem, 
 and the discussion of the whole question occupied 
 another hour. The afternoon was thus pretty far 
 advanced before he found himself seated alone in 
 the boat which had been at the disposal of him- 
 self and Edmund during the two previous after- 
 noons. The oar that he had picked up was
 
 OX THE MYSTERY OF MAX. 129 
 
 lying at his feet along the timbers of the boat. 
 The sun was within an hour of setting when 
 Brian appeared at the Castle bearing a letter for 
 Lady Innisfail. It had been entrusted to him for 
 delivery to her ladyship by Mr. Wynne, he said. 
 Where was Mr. Wynne? That Brian would not 
 take upon him to say; only he was at the op- 
 posite side of the lough. Maybe he was with 
 Father Conn, who was the best of good company, 
 or it wasn't a bit unlikely that it was the District 
 Inspector of the Constabulary he was with. Any- 
 how it Avas sure that the gentleman had took a 
 great fancy to the queer places along the coast, 
 for hadn't he been to the thrubble to give a look 
 in at the Banshee's Cave, the previous night, just 
 because he was sthruck with admiration of the 
 story of the Princess that he, Brian, had told him 
 and Mr. Airey in the boat ? 
 
 The letter that Lady Innisfail received and 
 glanced at while drinking tea on one of the garden 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 130 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 seats outside the Castle, begged her ladyship to 
 pardon the writer's not appearing at dinner that 
 night, the fact being that he had unexpectedly 
 found an old friend who had taken possession of 
 him. 
 
 "It was very nice of him to write, wasn't it, 
 my dear?" Lady Innisfail remarked to her friend 
 Miss Craven, who was filtering a novel by a 
 popular French author for the benefit of Lady 
 Innisfail. " It was very nice of him to write. Of 
 course that about the friend is rubbish. The charm 
 of this neighbourhood is that no old friend ever 
 turns up." 
 
 "You don't think that — that — perhaps — " sug- 
 gested Miss Craven with the infinite delicacy of 
 one who has been employed in the filtration of 
 Paul Bourget. 
 
 "Not at all — not at all," said Lady Innisfail, 
 shaking her head. " If it was his father it would 
 be quite another matter."
 
 OX THE MYSTERY OF MAX. 131 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " Lord Fotheringay is too great a responsibility 
 even for me, and I don't as a rule shirk such 
 things/ said Lady Innisfail. "But Harold is — 
 well, I'll let you into a secret, though it is against 
 myself: he has never made love even to me." 
 
 "That is inexcusable,*' remarked Miss Craven. 
 with a little movement of the eyebrows. She did 
 not altogether appreciate Lady Innisfail's systems. 
 She had not a sufficient knowledge of dynamics 
 and the transference of energy to be able to 
 understand the beauty of the " switch " principle. 
 ■ But if he is not with a friend — or — or — the 
 other—" 
 
 " The enemy — our enemy ? " 
 
 "Where can he be — where can he have been?" 
 
 a Heaven knows ! There are some things that 
 are too wonderful for me. I fancied long ago that 
 I knew Man. My dear Helen. I was a fool. Man 
 is a mystery. What could that boy mean by going
 
 132 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 to the Banshee's Cave last night, when he might 
 have been dancing with me — or you?" 
 
 " Romance ? " 
 
 " Romance and rubbish mean the same thing to 
 such men as Harold Wynne, Helen — you should 
 know so much," said Lady Innisfail. " That is, 
 of course, romance in the abstract. The flutter 
 of a human white frock would produce more im- 
 pression on a man than a whole army of Banshees." 
 
 " And yet the boatman said that Mr. Wynne had 
 spent some time last night at the Cave, " said Miss 
 Craven. " Was there a white dress in the question, 
 do you fancy ? " 
 
 Lady Innisfail turned her large and luminous 
 eyes upon her companion. So she was accustomed 
 to turn those orbs upon such young men as declared 
 that they adored her. The movement was supposed 
 to be indicative of infinite surprise, with abundant 
 sympathy, and a trace of pity. 
 
 Helen Craven met the luminous gaze with a
 
 OX THE MYSTERY OF MAX. 133 
 
 smile, that broadened as she murmured. * Dearest 
 Lilian, we are quite alone. It is extremely unlikely 
 that your expression can be noticed by any of the 
 men. It is practically wasted." 
 
 " It is the natural and reasonable expression of 
 the surprise I feel at the wisdom of the — the — ' 
 
 •Serpent?" 
 
 " Xot quite. Let us say, the young matron. 
 lurking beneath the harmlessness of the — the — let 
 us say the ingenue. A white dress! Pray go on 
 with ' Un Cceur de Fernine 1 ." 
 
 Miss Craven picked up the novel which had been on 
 the ground, flattened out in a position of oriental 
 prostration and humility before the wisdom of the 
 women.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ON THE ART OF COLOURING. 
 
 THE people of the village of Ballycruiskeen showed 
 themselves quite ready to enter into the plans of 
 their pastor in the profitable enterprise of making 
 entertainment for Lady Innisfail and her guests. 
 The good pastor had both enterprise and imagination. 
 Lady Innisfail had told him confidentially that 
 day that she wished to impress her English 
 visitors with the local colour of the region round 
 about. Local colour was a phrase that she was 
 as fond of as if she had been an art critic ; but 
 it so happened that the pastor had never heard 
 the phrase before ; he promptly assured her, however, 
 
 134
 
 ON THE ART OF COLOURING. 135 
 
 that he sympathized most heartily with her lady- 
 ship's aspirations in this direction. Yes. it was 
 absolutely necessary that they should be impr 
 with the local colour, and if. with this impression. 
 there came an appreciation of the requirements of 
 the chapel in the way of a new roof, it would 
 please him greatly. 
 
 The roof would certainly be put on before the 
 winter, even if the work had to be carried out at 
 the expense of his Lordship. Lady Innisfail said 
 with enthusiasm: and if Father Constantine could 
 only get up a wake or a dance or some other 
 festivity for the visitors, just to show them how 
 picturesque and sincere were the Irish race in the 
 West, she would take care that the work on the 
 roof was begun without delay. 
 
 Father Constantine — he hardly knew himself by 
 that name, having invariably been called Father 
 Conn by his flock — began to have a comprehensive 
 knowledge of what was meant by the phrase " local
 
 136 A GEAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 colour." Did her ladyship insist on a wake, he 
 inquired. 
 
 Her ladyship said she had no foolish prejudices 
 in the matter. She was quite willing to leave the 
 whole question of the entertainment in the hands 
 of his reverence. He knew the people best and 
 he would be able to say in what direction their 
 abilities could be exhibited to the greatest advantage. 
 She had always had an idea, she confessed, that 
 it was at a wake they shone; but, of course, if 
 Father Constantine thought differently she would 
 make no objection, but she would dearly like a wake. 
 
 The priest did not even smile for more than a 
 minute; but he could not keep that twinkle out 
 of his eyes even if the chapel walls in addition 
 to the roof depended on his self-control. 
 
 He assured her ladyship that she was perfectly 
 right in her ideas. He agreed with her that the 
 wake was the one festivity that was calculated to 
 bring into prominence the varied talents of his
 
 OX THE AKT OF COLOURING. 137 
 
 flock. But the unfortunate thing about it was its 
 variableness. A wake was something that could 
 not be arranged for beforehand — at least not without 
 involving a certain liability to criminal prosecution. 
 The elements of a wake were simple enough, to 
 be sure, but simple and all as they were, they 
 were not always forthcoming. 
 
 Lady Innisfail thought this very provoking. Of 
 course, expense was no consideration — she hoped 
 that the pastor understood so much. She hoped 
 he understood that if he could arrange for a wake 
 that night she would bear the expense. 
 
 The priest shook his head. 
 
 Well, then, if a wake was absolutely out of the 
 question — she didn't see why it should be, but, of 
 course, he knew best — why should he not get up 
 an eviction? She thought that on the whole the 
 guests had latterly heard more about Irish evictions 
 than Irish wakes. There was plenty of local 
 colour in an eviction, and so far as she could
 
 138 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 gather from the pictures she had seen in the illus- 
 trated papers, it was extremely picturesque — yes, 
 when the girls were barefooted, and when there 
 was active resistance. Hadn't she heard something 
 about boiling water? 
 
 The twinkle had left the priest's eyes as she 
 prattled away. He had an impulse to tell her that 
 it was the class to which her ladyship belonged 
 and not that to which he belonged, who had most 
 practice in that form of entertainment known as 
 the eviction. But thinking of the chapel roof, he 
 restrained himself. After all, Lord Innisfail had 
 never evicted a family on his Irish estate. He had 
 evicted several families on his English property, 
 however; but no one ever makes a fuss about 
 English evictions. If people fail to pay their rent 
 in England they know that they must go. They 
 have not the imagination of the Irish. 
 
 "I'll tell your ladyship what it is," said Father 
 Conn, before she had quite come to the end of her
 
 OX THE ART OF COLOURING. 139 
 
 prattle : a if the ladies and gentlemen who have 
 the honour to be your ladyship's guests will take 
 the trouble to walk or drive round the coast to 
 the Curragh of Lamdhu after supper — I mean dinner 
 — to-night, I'll get up a celebration of the Cruis- 
 keen for you all." 
 
 * How delightful ! " exclaimed her ladyship. " And 
 what might a celebration of the Cruiskeen be ? " 
 
 It was at this point that the imagination of the 
 good father came to his assistance. He explained, 
 with a volubility that comes to the Celt only 
 when he is romancing, that the celebration of the 
 Cruiskeen was a prehistoric rite associated with 
 the village of Ballycruiskeen. Cruiskeen was. as 
 perhaps her ladyship had heard, the Irish for a 
 vessel known to common people as a jug — it was. 
 he explained, a useful vessel for drinking out of — 
 when it held a sufficient quantity. 
 
 Of course Lady Innisfail had heard of a jug — 
 she had even heard of a song called " The Cruis-
 
 140 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 keen Lawn" — did that mean some sort of jug? 
 
 It meant the little full jug, his reverence 
 assured her. Anyhow, the celebration of the Cruis- 
 keen of Bally cruiskeen had taken place for 
 hundreds — most likely thousands— of years at the 
 Curragh of Lamclhu — Lamdhu meaning the Black 
 Hand— and it was perhaps the most interesting of 
 Irish customs. Was it more interesting than a 
 wake? Why, a wake couldn't hold a candle to a 
 Cruiskeen, and the display of candles was, as prob- 
 ably her ladyship knew, a distinctive feature of 
 a wake. 
 
 Father Conn, finding how much imaginary ar- 
 chaeology Lady Innisfail would stand without a 
 protest, then allowed his imagination to revel in 
 the details of harpers — who were much more genteel 
 than fiddlers, he thought, though his flock preferred 
 the fiddle — of native dances and of the recitals of 
 genuine Irish poems — probably prehistoric. All 
 these were associated with a Cruiskeen, he declared,
 
 OX THE AET OF COLOURING. 141 
 
 and a Cruiskeen her ladyship and her ladyship's 
 guests should have that night, if there was any 
 public spirit left in Ballycruiskeen, and he rather 
 thought that there was a good deal still left, 
 thank God! 
 
 Lady Innisfail was delighted. Local colour! 
 Why, this entertainment was a regular Winsor and 
 Xewton Cabinet. 
 
 It included everything that people in England 
 were accustomed to associate with the Irish, and 
 this was just what the guests would relish. 
 It was infinitely more promising than the simple 
 national dance for which she had been trying" to 
 arrange. 
 
 She shook Father Conn heartily by the hand, but 
 stared at him when he made some remark about 
 the chapel roof — she had already forgotten all 
 about the roof. 
 
 The priest had not. 
 
 B God forgive me for my romancing ! " he murmured,
 
 142 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 when her ladyship had departed and he stood 
 wiping his forehead. " God forgive me ! If it wasn't 
 for the sake of the slate or two, the ne'er a word 
 but the blessed truth would have been forced from me. 
 A Cruiskeen ! How was it that the notion seized 
 me at all?" 
 
 He hurried off to an ingenious friend and con- 
 fidential adviser of his, whose name was O'Flaherty, 
 and who did a little in the horse-dealing line — a 
 profession that tends to develop the ingenuity of 
 those associated with it either as buyers or sellers — 
 and Mr. O'Flaherty, after hearing Father Conn's 
 story, sat down on the side of one of the ditches, 
 which are such a distinctive feature of Ballycruis- 
 keen and the neighbourhood, and roared with 
 laughter. 
 
 " Ye've done it this time, and no mistake, Father 
 Conn," he cried, when he had partially recovered 
 from his hilarity. " I always said you'd do it 
 some day, and ye've done it now. A Cruiskeen!
 
 OX THE ART OF COLOURING. 143 
 
 Mother of Moses ! A Cruiskeen! Oh, but it's yourself* 
 has the quare head, Father Conn! " 
 
 8 Give over your fun, and tell us what's to be 
 done — that's what you're to do if there's any good 
 in you at all,'' said the priest. 
 
 " Oh, by my soul, ye'll have to carry out the 
 enterprise in your own way, my brave Father Conn." 
 said Mr. O'Flaherty. <A Cruiskeen! A " 
 
 "Phinny O'Flaherty," said the priest solemnly. 
 * if ye don't want to have the curse of the Holy 
 Church flung at that red head of yours, ye'll rise 
 and put me on the way of getting up at least 
 a jig or two on the Curragh this night." 
 
 After due consideration Mr. O'Flaherty came to 
 the conclusion that it would be unwise on 
 his part to put in motion the terrible machinery 
 of the Papal Interdict — if the forces of the Vatican 
 were to be concentrated upon him he might never 
 again be able to dispose of a " roarer " as merely 
 a " whistler " to someone whose suspicions were
 
 144 A GEAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 susceptible of being lulled by a brogue. Mr. Phi- 
 neas 'Flaherty consequently assured Father Conn 
 that he would help his reverence, even if the act 
 should jeopardize his prospects of future happiness 
 in another world.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ON AN IRISH DANCE. 
 
 LADY INMSF AIL'S guests— especially those who 
 had been wandering over the mountains with guns all 
 day — found her rather too indefatigable in her search 
 for new methods of entertaining them. The notion 
 of an after-dinner stroll of a few miles to the 
 village of Bally cruiskeen for the sake of witnessing 
 an entertainment, the details of which Lady Innis- 
 fail was unable to do more than suggest, and the 
 attractions of which were rather more than doubt- 
 ful, was not largely relished at the Castle. 
 
 Lord Innisfail announced his intention of remain- 
 ing where he had dined; but he was one of the 
 
 vol. i. 145 10
 
 146 A GRAY EYE OR 80. 
 
 few men who could afford to brave Lady Innisf ail's 
 disdain and to decline to be chilled by her cold 
 glances. The other men who did not want to be 
 entertained on the principles formulated by Lady 
 Innisfail, meanly kept out of her way after dinner. 
 They hoped that they might have a chance of 
 declaring solemnly afterwards, that they had been 
 anxious to go, but had waited in vain for informa- 
 tion as to the hour of departure, the costume to 
 be worn, and the password — if a password were 
 needed — to admit them to the historic rites of the 
 Cruiskeen. 
 
 One of the women declined to go, on the ground 
 that, so far as she could gather, the rite was not 
 evangelical. Her views were evangelical. 
 
 One of the men — he was an Orangeman from 
 Ulster — boldly refused to attend what was so 
 plainly a device planned by the Jesuits for the 
 capture of the souls — he assumed that they had 
 souls — of the Innisfail family and their guests.
 
 OX AH IRISH DANCE. 147 
 
 Miss Craven professed so ardently to be looking 
 forward to the entertainment, that Mr. Airey. with 
 his accustomed observance of the distribution of 
 high lights in demeanour as well as in conversa- 
 tion, felt certain that she meant to stay at the Castle. 
 
 His accuracy of observation was proved when 
 the party were ready to set out for Ballycruiskeen. 
 Miss Craven's maid carried that lady's affectionate 
 regards to her hostess : she had been foolish enough 
 to sit in the sun during the afternoon with that 
 fascinating novel, and as she feared it would, her 
 indiscretion had given her a headache accompanied 
 by dizziness. She would thus be unable to go 
 with the general party to the village, but if she 
 possibly could, she would follow them in an hour — 
 perhaps le-s. 
 
 Edmund Airey smiled the smile of the prophet 
 who lives to see his prediction realized — most of 
 the prophets died violent deaths before they could 
 have that gratification.
 
 148 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 " Yes, it was undoubtedly an indiscretion, " he 
 murmured. 
 
 " Sitting in the sun ? " said Lady Innisfail. 
 
 "Reading Paul Bourget," said he. 
 
 " Of course, " said Lady Innisfail. ■ Talking of 
 indiscretions, has anyone seen — ah, never mind." 
 
 "It is quite possible that the old friend whom 
 you say he wrote about, may be a person of pri- 
 mitive habits — he may be inclined to retire early," 
 said Mr. Airey. 
 
 Lady Innisfail gave a little puzzled glance at him 
 — the puzzled expression vanished in a moment, 
 however, before the ingenuousness of his smile. 
 
 "What a fool I am becoming!" she whispered. 
 "I really never thought of that." 
 
 " That was because you never turned your atten- 
 tion properly • to the mystery of the headache, " 
 said he. 
 
 Then they set off in the early moonlight for 
 their walk along the cliff path that, in the course
 
 ON AN IKISH DANCE. 149 
 
 of a mile or so, trended downward and through 
 the Pass of Lamdhu, with its dark pines growing 
 half-way up the slope on one side. The lower 
 branches of the trees stretched fantastic arms over 
 the heads of the party walking on the road through 
 the Pass. In the moonlight these fantastic arms 
 seemed draped. The trees seemed attitudinizing to 
 one another in a strange pantomime of their own. 
 
 The village of Bally cruiskeen lay just beyond the 
 romantic defile, so that occasionally the inhabitants 
 failed to hear the sound of the Atlantic hoarsely 
 roaring as it was being strangled in the narrow 
 part of the lough. They were therefore sometimes 
 merry with a merriment impossible to dwellers 
 nearer the coast. 
 
 It did not appear to their visitors that this was 
 one of their merry nights. The natives were com- 
 manded by their good priest to be merry for " the 
 quality, " under penalties with which they were well 
 acquainted. But merriment under a penalty is no
 
 150 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 more successful than the smile which is manufac- 
 tured in a photographer's studio. 
 
 Father Conn made the mistake of insisting on all 
 the members of his flock washing their faces. They 
 had washed all the picturesqueness out of them, 
 Mr. Airey suggested. 
 
 The Curragh of Ballycruiskeen was a somewhat 
 wild moorland that became demoralized into a bog 
 at one extremity. There was, however, a sufficiently 
 settled portion to form a dancing green, and at one 
 side of this patch the shocking incongruity of chairs 
 — of a certain sort — and even a sofa — it was somewhat 
 less certain — met the eyes of the visitors. 
 
 " Mind this, ye divils, " the priest was saying in 
 an affectionate way to the members of his flock, as 
 the party from the Castle approached. a Mind this, 
 it's dancing a new roof on the chapel that ye are. 
 Every step ye take means a slate, so it does." 
 
 This was clearly the peroration of the pastor's 
 speech.
 
 OX AS IRISH DANCE. 151 
 
 The speech of Mr. Phineas OTlahertv. who was 
 a sort of unceremonious master of the ceremonies, 
 had been previously delivered, fortunately when the 
 guests were out of hearing. 
 
 At first the entertainment seemed to be a very 
 mournful one. It was too like examination day at 
 a village school to convey an idea of spontaneous 
 mirth. The " quality " sat severely on the incon- 
 gruous chairs — no one was brave enough to try 
 the sofa — and some of the " quality * used double 
 eye-glasses with handles, for the better inspection 
 of the performers. This was chilling to the per- 
 formers. 
 
 In spite of the efforts of Father Conn and his 
 stage manager, Mr. OTlahertv, the members of 
 the cast for the entertainment assumed a huddled 
 appearance that did themselves great injustice. They 
 declined to group themselves effectively, but suggested 
 to Mr. Durdan — who was not silent on the subject — 
 one of the illustrations to Foxe's Book of Mar-
 
 152 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 tyrs — a scene in which about a score of persons 
 about to be martyred are shown to be awaiting, 
 with an aspect of cheerful resignation that deceived 
 no one, their " turn " at the hands of the executioner. 
 
 The merry Irish jig had a depressing effect at 
 first. The priest was well-meaning, but he had not 
 the soul of an artist. When a man has devoted 
 all his spare moments for several years to the 
 repression of unseemly mirth, he is unwise to 
 undertake, at a moment's notice, the duties of 
 stimulating such mirth. Under the priest's eye 
 the jig was robbed of its jiguity, so to speak. It 
 was the jig of the dancing class. 
 
 Mr. 'Flaherty threatened to scandalize Father 
 Conn by a few exclamations about the display of 
 fetlocks — the priest had so little experience of the 
 tf quality " that he fancied a suggestion of slang 
 would be offensive to their ears. He did not know 
 that the hero of the u quality " in England is the 
 costermonger, and that a few years ago the hero
 
 ON AN IKISH DANCE. 153 
 
 was the cowboy. But Edmund Airey, perceiving 
 with his accustomed shrewdness, how matters stood, 
 managed to draw the priest away from the half- 
 hearted exponents of the dance, and so questioned him 
 on the statistics of the parish — for Father Conn 
 was as hospitable with his statistics as he was with 
 his whiskey punch upon occasions — that half an 
 hour had passed before they returned together to 
 the scene of the dance, the priest with a five- 
 pound note of Mr. Airey's pressed against his 
 heart. 
 
 "Murder alive! what's this at all at all?" cried 
 Father Conn, becoming aware of the utterance of 
 whoop after whoop by the dancers. 
 
 1 It's the jig they're dancin' at last, an 1 more 
 power to thim!" cried Phineas OTlaherty, clapping 
 his hands and giving an encouraging whoop or two. 
 
 He was right. The half dozen couples artistically 
 dishevelled, and rapidly losing the baleful recol- 
 lections of having been recently tidied up to meet
 
 154 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 the "quality" — rapidly losing every recollection of 
 the critical gaze of the "quality" — of the power 
 of speech possessed by the priest — of everything, 
 clerical and lay, except the strains of the fiddle 
 which occupied an intermediate position between 
 things lay and clerical, being wholly demoniac — 
 these half dozen couples were dancing the jig with 
 a breadth and feeling that suggested the youth of 
 the world and the reign of Bacchus. 
 
 Black hair flowing in heavy flakes over shoulders 
 unevenly bare — shapely arms flung over heads in 
 an attitude of supreme self-abandonment — a pas- 
 sionate advance, a fervent retreat, then an exchange 
 of musical cries like wild gasps for breath, and 
 ever, ever, ever the demoniac music of the fiddle, 
 and ever, ever, ever the flashing and flying from 
 the ground like the feet of the winged Hermes — 
 flashing and flashing with the moonlight over all, 
 and the fantastic arms of the hill-side pines 
 stretched out like the fringed arms of a grotesque
 
 ON AX IRISH DAXCE. 155 
 
 Pierrot — this was the scene to which the priest 
 returned with Edmund Airey. 
 
 He threw up his hands and was about to rush 
 upon the half-frenzied dancers, when Edmund 
 grasped him by the arm, and pointed mutely to 
 the attitude of the " quality. " 
 
 Lady Innisfail and her friends were no longer 
 sitting frigidly on their chairs — the double eye-glasses 
 were dropped, and those who had held them were 
 actually joining in the whoops of the dancers. Her 
 ladyship was actually clapping her hands in the 
 style of encouragement adopted by Mr. OTlaherty. 
 
 The priest stood in the attitude in which he 
 had been arrested by the artful Edmund Airey. 
 His eyes and his mouth were open, and his right 
 hand was pressed against the five-pound note that 
 he had just received. There was a good deal of 
 slate-purchasing potentialities in a five-pound note. 
 If her ladyship and her guests were shocked — as 
 the priest, never having heard of the skirt dance
 
 156 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 and its popularity in the drawing-room — believed 
 they should be, they were not displaying their 
 indignation in a usual way. They were almost as 
 excited as the performers. 
 
 Father Conn seated himself without a word of 
 protest, in one of the chairs vacated by the Castle 
 party. He felt that if her ladyship liked that form 
 of entertainment, the chapel roof was safe. The 
 amount of injury that would be done to the Foul 
 Fiend by the complete re-roofing of the chapel 
 should certainly be sufficient to counteract whatever 
 sin might be involved in the wild orgy that was 
 being carried on beneath the light of the moon. 
 This was the consolation that the priest had as he 
 heard whoop after whoop coming from the dancers. 
 
 Six couples remained on the green dancing-space. 
 The fiddler was a wizened, deformed man with small 
 gleaming eyes. He stood on a stool and kept time 
 with one foot. He increased the time of the dance 
 so gradually as to lead the dancers imperceptibly
 
 ON AN IRISH DANCE. 157 
 
 on until, without being aware of it, they had reached 
 a frenzied pitch that could not be maintained for 
 many minutes. But still the six couples continued 
 wildly dancing, the moonlight striking them aslant 
 and sending six black quivering shadows far over 
 the ground. Suddenly a man dropped out of the 
 line and lay gasping on the grass. Then a girl 
 flung herself with a cry into the arms of a woman 
 who was standing among the onlookers. Faster 
 still and faster went the grotesquely long arms of 
 the dwarf fiddler — his shadow cast by the moonlight 
 was full of horrible suggestions — and every now 
 and again a falsetto whoop came from him, his 
 teeth suddenly gleaming as his lips parted in 
 uttering the cry. 
 
 The two couples, who now remained facing one 
 another, changing feet with a rapidity that caused 
 them to appear constantly off the ground, were 
 encouraged by the shouts and applause of their 
 friends. The air was full of cries, in which the
 
 158 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 spectators from the Castle joined. Faster still the 
 demoniac music went, every strident note being 
 clearly heard above the shouts. But when one of 
 the two couples staggered wildly and fell with 
 outstretched arms upon the grass, the shriek of 
 the fiddle sounded but faintly above the cries. 
 
 The priest could restrain himself no longer. He 
 sprang to his feet and kicked the stool from under 
 the fiddler, sending the misshapen man sprawling 
 in one direction and his instrument with an un- 
 earthly shriek in another. 
 
 Silence followed that shriek. It lasted but a 
 few seconds, however. The figure of a man — a 
 stranger — appeared running across the open space 
 between the village and the Curragh, where the 
 dance was being held. 
 
 He held up his right hand in so significant a 
 way, that the priest's foot was arrested in the act 
 of implanting another kick upon the stool, and the 
 fiddler sat up on the ground and forgot to look
 
 0>' AN IRISH DANCE. 159 
 
 for his instrument through surprise at the apparition. 
 "It's dancin' at the brink of the grave, ye are. - 
 gasped the man. as he approached the group that 
 had become suddenly congested in anticipation of 
 the priest's wrath. 
 
 ■ Why, it's only Brian the boatman, alter all, " 
 said Lady Innisfail. " Great heavens ! I had such 
 a curious thought as he appeared. Oh. that dancing! 
 He did not seem to be a man. " 
 
 ' This is no doubt part of the prehistoric rite, " 
 said Mr. Airey. 
 
 ■ How simply lovely ! " cried Miss Stafford. 
 
 K In God's name, man, tell us what you mean," 
 said the priest. 
 
 " It's herself, " gasped Brian. " It's the one 
 that's nameless. Her wail is heard over all the 
 lough — I heard it with my ears and hurried here 
 for your reverence. Don't we know that she never 
 cries except for a death ? " 
 
 ■ He means the Banshee, * said Lady Innisfail.
 
 160 A GKAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 "The people, I've heard, think it unlucky to utter 
 her name. " 
 
 " So lovely ! Just like savages ! " said Miss 
 Stafford. 
 
 8 I dare say the whole thing is only part of the 
 ceremony of the Cruiskeen, " said Mr. Durdan. 
 
 "Brian O'Donal, " said the priest; "have you 
 come here to try and terrify the country side with 
 your romancin' ?" 
 
 " By the sacred Powers, your reverence, I heard 
 the cry of her myself, as I came by the bend of 
 the lough. If it's not the truth that I'm after 
 speaking, may I be the one that she's come 
 for." 
 
 " Doesn't he play the part splendidly ? " said 
 Lady Innisfail. "I'd almost think that he was in 
 earnest. Look how the people are crossing them- 
 selves. " 
 
 Miss Stafford looked at them through her 
 double eye-glasses with the long handle.
 
 ON AS IEISH DANCE. 161 
 
 tf How lovely ! ' she murmured. " The Cruiskeen 
 is the Oberammergau of Connaught." 
 
 Edmund Airey laughed. 
 
 * God forgive us all for this night ! " said the 
 priest. K Sure, didn't I think that the good that 
 would come of getting on the chapel roof would 
 cover the shame of this night! Go to your cabins, 
 my children. You were not to blame. It was 
 me and me only. My Lady" — he turned to the 
 Innisfail party — "this entertainment is over. God 
 knows I meant it for the best." 
 
 "But we haven't yet heard the harper." cried 
 Lady Innisfail. 
 
 "And the native bards." said Miss Stafford. "I 
 should so much like to hear a bard. I might even 
 recite a native poem under his tuition." 
 
 Miss Stafford saw a great future for native Irish 
 poetry in English drawing-rooms. It might be 
 the success of a season. 
 
 "The entertainment's over." said the pri 
 
 70L. I. 1 1
 
 162 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 "It's that romancer Brian, that's clone it all," 
 cried Phineas O'Flaherty. 
 
 "Mr. O'Flaherty, if it's not the truth may I— oh, 
 didn't I hear her voice, like the wail of a girl in 
 distress?" cried Brian. 
 
 "Like what?" said Mr. Airey. 
 
 "Oh, you don't believe anything — we all know 
 that, sir," said Brian. 
 
 "A girl in distress — I believe in that, at any 
 rate," said Edmund. 
 
 "Now!" said Miss Stafford, "don't you think 
 that I might recite something to these poor people?" 
 She turned to Lady Innisfail. " Poor people ! They 
 may never have heard a real recitation — ' The Dove- 
 Cote,' 'Peter's Blue Bell' — something simple." 
 
 There was a movement among her group. 
 
 "The sooner we get back to the Castle the bet- 
 ter it will be for all of us," said Lady Innisfail. 
 "Yes, Father Constantine, we distinctly looked for 
 a native bard, and we are greatly disappointed.^
 
 OX AX IRISH DANCE. 163 
 
 Who ever heard of a genuine Cruiskeen without a 
 native bard? Why, the thing's absurd!" 
 
 "A Connaught Oberammergau without a native 
 bard! Oh, Padre mio — Padre mio F said Miss 
 Stafford, daintily shaking her double eye-glasses at 
 the priest. 
 
 "My lady," said he, "you heard what the man 
 said. How would it be possible for us to continue 
 this scene while that warning voice is in the air ? " 
 
 "If you give us a chance of hearing the warn- 
 ing voice, well forgive you everything, and say 
 that the Cruiskeen is a great success," cried Lady 
 Innisfail. 
 
 "If your ladyship takes the short way to the 
 bend of the lough you may still hear her." said 
 Brian. 
 
 "God forbid," said the priest. 
 
 "Take us there, and if we hear her, I'll give 
 you half a sovereign," cried her ladyship, enthusi- 
 astically.
 
 164 A GKAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 "If harm comes of it don't blame me," said 
 Brian. "Step out this way, my lady." 
 
 "We may still be repaid for our trouble in com- 
 ing so far," said one of the party. "If we do 
 actually hear the Banshee, I, for one, will feel 
 more than satisfied." 
 
 Miss Stafford, as she hurried away with the 
 party led by Brian, wondered if it might not be 
 possible to find a market for a Banshee's cry in a 
 London drawing-room. A new emotion was, she 
 understood, eagerly awaited. The serpentine dance 
 and the costermonger's lyre had waned. It was ex- 
 tremely unlikely that they should survive another 
 season. If she were to be first in the field with 
 the Banshee's cry, introduced with a few dainty 
 steps of the jig incidental to a poem with a refrain 
 of "Asthore" or "Mavourneen," she might yet make 
 a name for herself.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ON THE SHRIEK, 
 
 IN a space of time that was very brief, owing to 
 the resolution with which Lady Innisfail declined 
 to accept the suggestion of short cuts by Brian, 
 the whole party found themselves standing breath- 
 less at the beginning of the line of cliffs. A mist 
 saturated with moonlight had drifted into the lough 
 from the Atlantic. It billowed below their eyes 
 along the surface of the water, and crawled along 
 the seared faces of the cliffs, but no cold fingers 
 of the many-fingered mist clasped the higher ridges. 
 The sound of the crashing of the unseen waves 
 about the bases of the cliffs filled the air, but 
 there was no other sound. 
 
 165
 
 166 A GKAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 " Impostor ! " said Edmund Airy, turning upon 
 Brian. " You heard no White Lady to-night. You 
 have jeopardized our physical and your spiritual 
 health by your falsehood." 
 
 " You shall get no half sovereign from me, * 
 said Lady Innisfail. 
 
 ? Is it me that's accountable for her coming and 
 going ? " cried Brian, with as much indignation as 
 he could afford. Even an Irishman cannot afford 
 the luxury of being indignant with people who are 
 in the habit of paying him well, and an Irishman 
 is ready to sacrifice much to sentiment. " It's glad 
 we should all be this night not to hear the voice 
 of herself." 
 
 Lady Innisfail looked at him. She could afford to 
 be indignant, and she meant to express her indigna- 
 tion; but when it came to the point she found that 
 it was too profound to be susceptible of expression. 
 
 " Oh, come away," she said, after looking 
 severely at Brian for nearly a minute.
 
 ON THE SHRIEK. 167 
 
 "Dear Lady Innisfail," said Mr. Durdan. " I know 
 that you feel indignant, fancying that we have been 
 disappointed. Pray do not let such an idea have 
 weight with you for a moment." 
 
 a Oh, no. no," said Miss Stafford, who liked 
 speaking in public quite as well as Mr. Durdan. 
 u Oh, no, no ; you have done your best, dear Lady 
 Innisfail. The dance was lovely ; and though, of 
 course, we should have liked to hear a native 
 bard or two. as well as the Banshee — " 
 
 " Yet bards and Banshees we know to be beyond 
 human control,"' said Mr. Airey. 
 
 " We know that if it rested with you. we 
 should hear the Banshee every night," said Mr. 
 Durdan. 
 
 " Yes, we all know your kindness of heart, dear 
 Lady Innisfail."' resumed Miss Stafford. 
 
 " Indeed you should hear it, and the bard as well, " 
 cried Lady Innisfail. "But as Mr. Airey says — and 
 he knows all about bard and Banshees and such
 
 168 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 like things — Great heaven ! We are not disappointed 
 after all, thank heaven! " 
 
 Lad j Innisfail's exclamation was uttered after 
 there floated to the cliffs where she and her friends 
 were standing, from the rolling white mist that lay 
 below, the sound of a long wail. It was repeated, 
 only fainter, when she had uttered her thanksgiving, 
 and it was followed by a more robust shout. 
 
 "Isn't it lovely?" whispered Lady Innisfail. 
 
 " I don't like it, " said Miss Stafford, with a shudder. 
 "Let us go away — oh, let us go away at once." 
 
 Miss Stafford liked simulated horrors only. The 
 uncanny in verse was dear to her; but when, for 
 the first time, she was brought face to face with 
 what would have formed the subject of a thrilling 
 romance with a suggestion of the supernatural, she 
 shuddered. 
 
 * Hush, " said Lady Innisfail ; " if we remain quiet 
 we may hear it again." 
 
 "I don't want to hear it again," cried Miss
 
 OX THE SHRIEK. 169 
 
 Stafford. ' Look at the man. He knows all about 
 it. He is one of the natives." 
 
 She pointed to Brian, who was on his knees on 
 the rock muttering petitions for the protection of 
 all the party. 
 
 He knew, however, that his half sovereign was 
 safe, whatever might happen. Miss Stafford's remark 
 was reasonable. Brian should know all about the 
 Banshee and its potentialities of mischief. 
 
 " Get up, you fool ! " said Edmund Airey, catching 
 the native by the shoulder. " Don't you know as 
 well as I do that a boat with someone aboard is 
 adrift in the mist ? " 
 
 8 Oh, I know that you don't believe in anything. " 
 said Brian. 
 
 " I believe in your unlimited laziness and super- 
 stition, " said Edmund. " I'm very sorry, my dear 
 Lady Innisfail, to interfere with your entertainment, 
 but it's perfectly clear to me that someone is in 
 distress at the foot of the cliffs."
 
 170 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 u How can you be so horrid — so commonplace?" 
 said Lady Innisfail. 
 
 " He is one of the modern iconoclasts, " said 
 another of the group. u He would fling down our most 
 cherished beliefs. He told me that he considered 
 Madame Blavatsky a swindler." 
 
 "Dear Mr. Airey," said Miss Stafford, who was 
 becoming less timid as the wail from the sea had 
 not been repeated. " Dear Mr. Airey, let us entreat 
 of you to leave us our Banshee whatever you may 
 take from us." 
 
 " There are some things in heaven and earth that 
 refuse to be governed by a phrase," sneered Mr. 
 Durdan. 
 
 * Mules and the members of the Opposition are 
 among them," said Edmund, preparing to descend 
 the cliffs by the zig-zag track. 
 
 He had scarcely disappeared in the mist when 
 there was a shriek from Miss Stafford, and pointing 
 down the track with a gesture, which for expressive-
 
 ON THE SHRIEK. 171 
 
 she had never surpassed in the most powerful 
 of her recitations, she flung herself into Lady 
 Innis fail's arms. 
 
 ■ Great heavens ! " cried Lady Innisfail. " It is 
 the White Lady herself ! " 
 
 " "We're all lost, and the half sovereign's nothing 
 here or there.*' said Brian, in a tone of complete 
 resignation. 
 
 Out of the mist there seemed to float a white 
 figure of a girl. She stood for some moments with 
 the faint mist around her. and while the group on the 
 cliff watched her — some of them found it necessary 
 to cling together — another white figure floated through 
 the mist to the side of the first, and then came 
 another figure — that of a man — only he did not 
 float, 
 
 * I wish you would not cling quite so close to 
 me. my dear ; I can't see anything of what's going 
 on." said Lady Innisfail to Miss Stafford, whose 
 head was certainly an inconvenience to Ladv Innisfail.
 
 172 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 With a sudden, determined movement she shifted 
 the head from her bosom to her shoulder, and the 
 instant that this feat was accomplished she cried 
 out, " Helen Craven ! " 
 
 "Helen Craven?" said Miss Stafford, recovering 
 the use of her head in a moment. 
 
 " Yes, it's Helen Craven or her ghost that's 
 standing there," said Lady Innisfail. 
 
 " And Harold Wynne is with her. Are you 
 there, Wynne ? " sang out Mr. Durdan. 
 
 " Hallo ? " came the voice of Harold from below. 
 " Who is there ? " 
 
 "Why, we're all here," cried Edmund, emerging 
 from the mist at his side. " How on earth did 
 you get here ? — and Miss Craven — and — he looked 
 at the third figure — he had never seen the third 
 figure before. 
 
 " Oh, it's a long story," laughed Harold. ■ Will 
 you give a hand to Miss Craven ? " 
 
 Mr. Airey said it would please him greatly to
 
 OX THE SHRIEK. 173 
 
 do so, and by his kindly aid Miss Craven was, in 
 the course of a few minutes, placed by the side of 
 Lady Innisfail. 
 
 She took the place just vacated by Miss Stafford 
 on Lady Innisfail's bosom, and was even more 
 embarrassing to Lady Innisfail than the other had 
 been. Helen Craven was heavier, to start with. 
 
 But it was rather by reason of her earnest desire 
 to see the strange face, that Lady Innisfail found 
 Helen's head greatly in her way. 
 
 ■ Lady Innisfail. when Miss Craven is quite 
 finished with you, I shall present to you Miss 
 Avon." said Harold. 
 
 " I should be delighted," said Lady Innisfail. 
 " Dearest Helen, can you not spare me for a 
 moment ? " 
 
 Helen raised her head. 
 
 It was then that everyone perceived how great 
 was the devastation done by the mist to the grace- 
 ful little curled fringes of her forehead. Her hair
 
 174 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 was lank, showing that she had as massive a brow 
 as Miss Stafford's, if she wished to display it. 
 
 " It is a great pleasure to me to meet you, Miss 
 Avon ; I'm sure that I have often heard of you 
 from Mr. Wynne and — oh, yes, many other people, " 
 said Lady Innisfail. " But just now — well, you can 
 understand that we are all bewildered." 
 
 "Yes, we are all bewildered," said Miss Avon. 
 
 k You see, we heard the cry of the White Lady — " 
 
 " Of course, " said Harold ; " we heard it too. 
 The White Lady was Miss Craven. She was in 
 one of the boats, and the mist coming on so sud- 
 denly, she could not find her way back to the land- 
 ing place. Luckily we were able to take her boat 
 in tow before it got knocked to pieces. I hope 
 Miss Craven did not over-exert herself." 
 
 " I hope not, " said Lady Innisfail. " What on 
 earth induced you to go out in a boat alone, 
 Helen — and suffering from so severe a headache 
 into the bargain ? "
 
 ON THE SHRIEK. 175 
 
 " I felt confident that the cool air would do me 
 good, 7 said Miss Craven, somewhat dolefully. 
 
 Lady Innisfail looked at her in silence for some 
 moments, then she laughed. 
 
 Xo one else seemed to perceive any reason for 
 laughter. 
 
 Lady Innisfail then turned her eyes upon Miss 
 Avon. The result of her observation was precisely 
 the same as the result of Harold's first sight of 
 that face had been. Lady Innisfail felt that she 
 had never seen so beautiful a girl. 
 
 Then Lady Innisfail laughed again. 
 
 Finally she looked at Harold and laughed for 
 the third time. The space of a minute nearly was 
 occupied by her observations and her laughter. 
 
 ■ I think that on the whole we should hasten 
 on to the Castle. " said she at length. " Miss Craven is 
 pretty certain to be fatigued — we are. at any rate. 
 Of course you will come with us. Miss Avon." 
 
 The group on the cliff ceased to be a group
 
 176 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 when she had spoken ; but Miss Avon did not move 
 with the others. Harold also remained by her side. 
 
 "I don't know what I should do," said Miss 
 Avon. "The boat is at the foot of the cliff." 
 
 u It would be impossible for you to find your 
 course so long as the mist continues," said Harold. 
 ■ Miss Avon and her father — he is an old friend of 
 mine — we breakfasted together at my college— are 
 living in the White House— you may have heard 
 its name — on the opposite shore — only a mile by sea, 
 but six by land, " he added, turning to Lady Innisfail. 
 
 " Returning to-night is out of the question," 
 said Lady Innisfail. " You must come with us to 
 the Castle for to-night. I shall explain all to your 
 father to-morrow, if any explanation is needed. " 
 
 Miss Avon shook her head, and murmured a 
 recognition of Lady Innisfail's kindness. 
 
 " There is Brian, " said Harold. " He will confront 
 your father in the morning with the whole story." 
 
 "Yes, with the whole story," said Lady Innis-
 
 OX THE SHRIEK. 177 
 
 fail, with an amusing emphasis on the words. a I 
 already owe Brian half a sovereign." 
 
 K Oh, Brian will carry the message all for love." 
 cried the girl. 
 
 Lady Innisfail did her best to imitate the cap- 
 tivating freshness of the girl's words. 
 
 " All for love — all for love! " she cried. 
 
 Harold smiled. He remembered having had 
 brought under his notice a toy nightingale that 
 imitated the song of the nightingale so closely 
 that the Jew dealer, who wanted to sell the thing. 
 declared that no one on earth could tell the 
 difference between the two. 
 
 The volubility of Brian in declaring that he would 
 do anything out of love for Miss Avon was amazing. 
 He went down the cliff face to bring the boats 
 round to the regular moorings, promising to be 
 at the Castle in half an hour to receive Miss 
 Avon's letter to be put into her father's hand at 
 his hour of rising. 
 
 vol. i. 1-
 
 178 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 By the time Miss Avon and Harold had walked 
 to the Castle with Lady Innisfail, they had 
 acquainted her with a few of the incidents of the 
 evening — how they also had been caught by the 
 mist while in their boat, and had with considerable 
 trouble succeeded in reaching the craft in which 
 Miss Craven was helplessly drifting. They had 
 heard Miss Craven's cry for help, they said, and 
 Harold had replied to it. But still they had some 
 trouble picking up her boat. 
 
 Lady Innisfail heard all the story, and ventured 
 to assert that all was well that ended well. 
 
 " And this is the end, " she cried, as she pointed 
 to the shining hall seen through the open doors. 
 
 "Yes, this is the end of all — a pleasant end to 
 the story," said the girl. 
 
 Harold followed them as they entered. 
 
 He wondered if this was the end of the story, 
 or only the beginning.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 ON THE VALUE OF A BAD CHARACTER. 
 
 IT was said by some people that the judge, during 
 his vacation, had solved the problem set by the 
 philosopher to his horse. He had learned to live 
 on a straw a day, only there was something per- 
 petually at the end of his straw — something with a 
 preposterous American name in a tumbler to match. 
 
 He had the tumbler and the straw on a small 
 table by his side while he watched, with great 
 unsteadiness, the strokes of the billiard players. 
 
 From an hour after dinner he was in a condition 
 of perpetual dozing. This was his condition also 
 from an hour after the opening of a case in court.
 
 180 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 which required the closest attention to enable even 
 the most delicately appreciative mind to grasp even 
 its simplest elements. 
 
 He had, he said, been the most widely awake 
 of counsel for thirty years, so that he rather thought 
 he was entitled to a few years dozing as a judge. 
 
 Other people — they were his admirers — said that 
 his dozing represented an alertness far beyond 
 that of the most conscientiously wakeful and watchful 
 of the judicial establishment in England. 
 
 It is easy to resemble Homer — in nodding — and 
 in this special Homeric quality the judge excelled ; 
 but it was generally understood that it would not 
 be wise to count upon his nodding himself into a 
 condition of unobservance. He had already delivered 
 judgment on the character of the fine cannons 
 of one of the players in the hall, and upon the 
 hazards of the other. He had declined to mark 
 the game, however, and he had thereby shown his 
 knowledge of human nature. There had already
 
 OX THE VALUE OF A BAD CHARACTER. 181 
 
 been four disputes as to the accuracy of the marking. 
 (It was being done by a younger man). 
 
 B How can a man expect to make his favourite 
 break after some hours on a diabolical Irish jaunting 
 car?"' one of the players was asking, as he bent 
 over the table. 
 
 The words were uttered at the moment of Harold's 
 entrance, close behind Lady Innisfail and Miss Avon. 
 
 Hearing the words he stood motionless before 
 he had taken half-a-dozen steps into the hall. 
 
 Lady Innisfail also stopped at the same instant, 
 and looked over her shoulder at Harold. 
 
 Through the silence there came the little click 
 of the billiard balls. 
 
 The speaker gave the instinctive twist of the 
 practised billiard player toward the pocket that he 
 wished the ball to approach. Then he took a breath 
 and straightened himself in a way that would have 
 made any close observer aware of the fact that 
 he was no longer a young man.
 
 182 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 There was, however, more than a suggestion of 
 juvenility in his manner of greeting Lady Innisfail. 
 He was as effusive as is consistent with the modern 
 spirit of indifference to the claims of hostesses and 
 all other persons. 
 
 He was not so effusive when he turned to Harold ; 
 but that was only to be expected, because Harold 
 was his son. 
 
 " No, my boy, " said Lord Fotheringay, u I didn't 
 fancy that you would expect to see me here to-night 
 — I feel surprised to find myself here. It seems 
 like a dream to me — a charming dream- vista with 
 Lady Innisfail at the end of the vista. Innisfail 
 always ruins his chances of winning a game by 
 attempting a screw back into the pocket. He 
 leaves everything on. You'll see what my game 
 is now." 
 
 He chalked his cue and bent over the table once 
 more. 
 
 Harold watched him make the stroke. " You'll
 
 ON THE VALUE OF A BAD CHARACTER. 183 
 
 see what my game is," said Lord Fotheringay, as 
 he settled himself clown to a long break. 
 
 Harold questioned it greatly. His father's games 
 were rarely transparent. 
 
 u What on earth can have brought him? — oh, 
 he takes one's breath away, " whispered Lady 
 Innisfail to Harold, with a pretty fair imitation of 
 a smile lingering about some parts of her face. 
 
 Harold shook his head. There was not even the 
 imitation of a smile about his face. 
 
 Lady Innisfail gave a laugh, and turned quickly 
 to Miss Avon. 
 
 " My husband will be delighted to meet you, my 
 dear," said she. "He is certain to know your 
 father." 
 
 Harold watched Lord Innisfail shaking hands 
 with Miss Avon at the side of the billiard table, 
 while his father bent down to make another stroke. 
 When the stroke was played he saw his father 
 straighten himself and look toward Miss Avon.
 
 184 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 The look was a long one and an interested one. 
 Then the girl disappeared with Lady Innisfail, and 
 the look that Lord Fotheringay cast at his son 
 was a short one, but it was quite as intelligible 
 to that son as the long look at Miss Avon had 
 been to him. 
 
 Harold went slowly and in a singularly contem- 
 plative mood to his bedroom, whence he emerged in 
 a space, wearing a smoking-jacket and carrying a 
 pipe and tobacco pouch. 
 
 The smoking-jackets that glowed through the hall 
 towards the last hour of the day at Castle Innisfail 
 were a dream of beauty. 
 
 Lady Innisfail had given orders to have a variety 
 of sandwiches and other delicacies brought to the 
 hall for those of her guests who had attended the 
 festivities at Bally cruiskeen ; and when Harold found 
 his way downstairs, he perceived in a moment that 
 only a few of the feeble ones of the house-party 
 — the fishermen who had touches of rheumatism
 
 ON THE VALUE OF A BAD CHARACTER. 185 
 
 and the young women who cherished their com- 
 plexions — were absent from the hall. 
 
 He also noticed that his father was seated by 
 the side of Beatrice Avon and that he was suc- 
 ceeding in making himself interesting to her. 
 
 He knew that his father generally succeeded in 
 making himself interesting to women. 
 
 In another part of the hall Lady Innisfail was 
 succeeding in making herself interesting to some 
 of the men. She also was accustomed to meet 
 with success in this direction. She was describing 
 to such as had contrived to escape the walk to 
 Ballycruiskeen. the inexhaustibly romantic charm of 
 the scene on the Curragh while the natives were 
 dancing, and the descriptions certainly were not 
 deficient in colour. 
 
 The men listened to her with such an aspect 
 of being enthralled, she felt certain that they were 
 full of regret that they had failed to witness the 
 dance. It so happened, however, that the result
 
 186 A GEAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 of her account of the scene was to lead those 
 of her audience who had remained at the 
 Castle, to congratulate themselves upon a lucky 
 escape. 
 
 And all this time, Harold noticed that his 
 father was making himself interesting to Beatrice 
 Avon. 
 
 The best way for any man to make himself 
 interesting to a woman is to show himself inter- 
 ested in her. He knew that his father was well 
 aware of this fact, and that he was getting Bea- 
 trice Avon to tell him all about herself. 
 
 But when Lady Innisfail reached the final situa- 
 tion in her dramatic account of the dance, and 
 hurried her listeners to the brink of the cliff — 
 when she reproduced in a soprano that was still 
 vibratory, the cry that had sounded through the 
 mist— when she pointed to Miss Avon in telling 
 of the white figure that had emerged from the 
 mist — (Lady Innisfail did not think it necessary
 
 ON THE VALUE OF A BAD CHAKACTER. 187 
 
 to allude to Helen Craven, who had gone to 
 bed) — the auditors' interest was real and not 
 simulated. They looked at the white figure as 
 Lady Innisfail pointed to her, and their interest 
 was genuine. 
 
 They could at least appreciate this element of 
 the evening's entertainment, and as they glanced 
 at Harold, who was eating a number of sandwiches 
 in a self-satisfied way, they thought that they 
 might safely assume that he was the luckiest of 
 the dramatis personce of the comedy — or was it a 
 tragedy ?— described by Lady Innisfail. 
 
 And all this time Harold was noticing that his 
 father, by increasing his interest in Beatrice, was 
 making himself additionally interesting to her. 
 
 But the judge had also — at the intervals between 
 his Homeric nods — been noticing the living things 
 around him. He put aside his glass and its straw 
 — he had been toying with it all the evening, though 
 the liquid that mounted by capillary attraction up
 
 188 A GEAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 the tube was something noisome, without a trace 
 of alcohol — and seated himself on the other side 
 of the girl. 
 
 He assured her that he had known her father. 
 Lord Fotheringay did not believe him ; but this 
 was not to the point, and he knew it. What was 
 to the point was the fact that the judge understood 
 the elements of the art of interesting a girl almost 
 as fully as Lord Fotheringay did, without having 
 quite made it the serious business of his life. The 
 result was that Miss Avon was soon telling the 
 judge all about herself — this was what the judge 
 professed to be the most anxious to hear — and 
 Lord Fotheringay lit a cigar. 
 
 He felt somewhat bitterly on the subject of the 
 judge's intrusion. But the feeling did not last for 
 long. He reflected upon the circumstance that Miss 
 Avon could never have heard that he himself was 
 a very wicked man. 
 
 He knew that the interest that attaches to a
 
 ON THE VALUE OF A BAD CHARACTER. 189 
 
 man with a reputation for being very wicked is 
 such as need fear no rival. He felt that should 
 his power to interest a young woman ever be 
 jeopardized, he could still fall back upon his bad 
 character and be certain to attract her.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ON PROVIDENCE AS A MATCH-MAKER. 
 
 u OF course, " said Lady Innisfail to Edmund Airey 
 the next day. " Of course, if Harold alone had 
 rescued Helen from her danger last night, all would 
 have been well. You know as well as I do that 
 when a man rescues a young woman from a posi- 
 tion of great danger, he can scarcely do less than 
 ask her to marry him." 
 
 " Of course, " replied Edmund. " I really can't 
 see how, if he has any dramatic appreciation what- 
 ever, he could avoid asking her to marry him." 
 
 "It is beyond a question," said Lady Innisfail. 
 "So that if Harold had been alone in the boat all 
 
 190
 
 ON PROVIDENCE AS A MATCH-MAKER. 191 
 
 would have been well. The fact of Miss Avon's 
 being also in the boat must, however, be faced. 
 It complicates matters exceedingly." 
 
 Edmund shook his head gravely. 
 
 "I knew that you would see the force of it," 
 resumed Lady Innisfail. "And then there is his 
 father — his father must be taken into account." 
 
 " It might be as well, though I know that Lord 
 Fotheringay's views are the same as yours." 
 
 "I am sure that they are; but why, then, does he 
 come here to sit by the side of the other girl and 
 interest her as he did last evening ? " 
 
 "Lord Fotheringay can never be otherwise than 
 interesting, even to people who do not know how 
 entirely devoid of scruple he is." 
 
 " Of course I know all that ; but why should he 
 come here and sit beside so very pretty a girl as 
 this Miss Avon ? " 
 
 "There is no accounting for tastes, Lady Innis- 
 fail."
 
 192 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 * You are very stupid, Mr. Airey. What I mean 
 is, why should Lord Fotheringay behave in such a 
 way as must force his son's attention to be turned 
 in a direction that — that — in short, it should not be 
 turned in? Heaven knows that I want to do the 
 best for Harold— I like him so well that I could 
 almost wish him to remain unmarried. But you 
 know as well as I do, that it is absolutely necessary 
 for him to marry a girl with a considerable amount 
 of money." 
 
 g That is as certain as anything can be. I gave 
 him the best advice in my power on this subject, 
 and he announced his intention of asking Miss 
 Craven to marry him." 
 
 a But instead of asking her he strolled round the 
 coast to that wretched cave, and there met, by 
 accident, the other girl — oh, these other girls are 
 always appearing on the scene at the wrong 
 moment. " 
 
 u The world would go on beautifully if it were
 
 OX PROVIDENCE AS A MATCH-MAKER. 193 
 
 not for the Other Girl." said Edmund. * If you 
 think of it, there is not an event in history that 
 has not turned upon the opportune or inopportune 
 appearance of the Other GirL Nothing worth 
 speaking of has taken place, unless by the agency 
 of the Other GirL" 
 
 "And yet Lord Fotheringay comes here and sits 
 by the side of this charming girl, and his son 
 watches him making himself interesting to her as. 
 alas! he can do but too easily. Mr. Airey. I should 
 not be surprised if Harold were to ask Miss Avon 
 to-day to marry him — I should not. indeed.*' 
 
 a Oh, I think you take too pessimistic a view 
 of the matter altogether, Lady Innisfail. Anyhow, 
 I don't see that we can do more than we have 
 already done. I think I should feel greatly inclined 
 to let Providence and Lord Fotheringay fight out 
 the matter between them." 
 
 " Like the archangel and the Other over the body 
 of Moses?" 
 
 vol. i. 1:;
 
 194 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 " Well, something like that." 
 
 u No, Mr. Airey ; I don't believe in Providence 
 as a match-maker." 
 
 Mr. Airey gave a laugh. He wondered if it was 
 possible that Harold had mentioned to her that 
 he, Edmund, had expressed the belief that Providence 
 as a match-maker had much to learn. 
 
 "I don't see how we can interfere," said he. 
 u I like Harold Wynne greatly. He means to do 
 something in the world, and I believe he will do it. 
 He affords a convincing example of the collapse of 
 heredity as a principle. I like him if only for that. " 
 
 Lady Innisfail looked at him in silence for a 
 few moments. 
 
 " Yes, " she said, slowly. u Harold does seem 
 to differ greatly from his father. I wonder if it 
 is the decree of Providence that has kept him without 
 money. " 
 
 "Do you suggest that the absence of money— ?" 
 
 u No, no ; I suggest nothing. If a man must
 
 ON PROVIDENCE AS A MATCH-MAKER. 195 
 
 be wicked he'll be wicked without money almost as 
 readily as with it. Only I wonder, if Harold had 
 come in for the title and the property — such as 
 it was — at the same age as his father was when 
 he inherited all, would he be so ready as you say he 
 is to do useful work on the side of the government 
 of his country?" 
 
 ■ That is a question for the philosophers, " said 
 Edmund. 
 
 In this unsatisfactory way the conversation be- 
 tween Lady Innisfail and Mr. Airey on the morning 
 after Lord Fotheringay's arrival at the Castle, came 
 to an end. No conversation that ends in referring 
 the question under consideration to the philosophers, 
 can by any possibility be thought satisfactory. 
 But the conversation could not well be continued 
 when Miss Craven, by the side of Miss Avon, was 
 seen to be approaching. 
 
 Edmund Airey turned his eyes upon the two 
 girls, then they rested upon the face of Beatrice.
 
 196 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 As she came closer his glance rested upon the eyes 
 of Beatrice. The result of his observation was 
 to convince him that he had never before seen such 
 beautiful eyes. 
 
 They were certainly gray ; and they were as full 
 of expression as gray eyes can be. They were 
 large, and to look into them seemed like looking 
 into the transparent depths of an unfathomed sea — 
 into the transparent heights of an inexhaustible 
 heaven. 
 
 A glimpse of heaven suggests the bliss of the 
 beatified. A glimpse of the ocean suggests shipwreck. 
 
 He knew this perfectly well as he looked at her 
 eyes; but only for an instant did it occur to him 
 that they conveyed some message to him. 
 
 Before he had time to think whether the message 
 promised the bliss of the dwellers in the highest 
 heaven, or the disaster of those who go down 
 into the depths of the deepest sea, he was inquiring 
 from Helen Craven if the chill of which she had
 
 OX PROVIDENCE AS A MATCH-MAKER. 197 
 
 complained on the previous night, had developed 
 into a cold. 
 
 Miss Craven assured him that, so far from expe- 
 riencing any ill effects from her adventure, she had 
 never felt better in all her life. 
 
 " But had it not been for Miss Avon's hearing 
 my cries of despair, goodness knows where I 
 should have been in another ten minutes." she 
 added, putting her arm round Miss Avon's waist. 
 and looking, as Edmund had done, into the myste- 
 rious depths of Miss Avon's gray eyes. 
 
 ■ Nonsense ! " said Miss Avon. tt To tell you the 
 plain truth, I did not hear your cries. It was Mr. 
 V\ ynne who said he heard the White Lady wailing 
 for her lover." 
 
 • How could he translate the cry so accurately? " 
 said Edmund. " Do you suppose that he had heard 
 the Banshee's cry at the same place? " 
 
 He kept his eyes upon Miss Avon's face, and he 
 saw in a moment that she was wondering how
 
 198 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 much he knew of the movements of Harold Wynne 
 during the previous two nights. 
 
 Helen Craven looked at him also pretty narrowly. 
 She was wondering if he had told anyone that he 
 had suggested to her the possibility of Harold's 
 being in the neighbourhood of the Banshee's Cave 
 during the previous evening. 
 
 Both girls laughed in another moment, and then 
 Edmund Airey laughed also — in a sort of way. 
 Lady Innisfail was the last to join in the laugh. 
 But what she laughed at was the way in which 
 Edmund had laughed. 
 
 And while this group of four were upon the 
 northern terrace, Harold was seated h) the side of 
 his father on one of the chairs that faced the south. 
 Lord Fotheringay was partial to a southern aspect. 
 His life might be said to be a life of southern 
 aspects. He meant that it should never be out of 
 the sun, not because some of the incidents that 
 seemed to him to make life worth preserving were
 
 OX PROVIDENCE AS A MATCH-MAKER. 199 
 
 such as could best stand the searching light of the 
 sun, but simply because his was the nature of the 
 butterfly. He was a butterfly of fifty- seven — a 
 butterfly that found it necessary to touch up with 
 artificial powders the ravages of years upon the 
 delicate, downy bloom of youth — a butterfly whose 
 wings had now and again been singed by contact 
 with a harmful flame — whose still shapely body 
 was now and again bent with rheumatism. Surely 
 the rheumatic butterfly is the most wretched of 
 insects ! 
 
 He had fluttered away from a fresh singeing, 
 he was assuring his son. Yes, he had scarcely 
 strength left in his wings to carry him out of the 
 sphere of influence of the flame. He had. he said 
 in a mournful tone, been very badly treated. She 
 had treated him very badly. The Italian nature 
 was essentially false — he might have known it — 
 and when an Italian nature is developed with a 
 high soprano, very shrill in its upper register, the
 
 200 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 result was — well, the result was that the flame 
 had singed the wings of the elderly insect who 
 was Harold's father. 
 
 " Talk of money ! " he cried, with so sudden an 
 expression of emotion that a few caked scraps of 
 sickly, roseate powder fluttered from the crinkled 
 lines of his forehead — Talk of money ! It was not 
 a matter of hundreds— he was quite prepared for 
 that — but when the bill ran up to thousands — 
 thousands — thousands — oh, the whole affair was 
 sickening. (Harold cordially agreed with him, though 
 he did not express himself to this effect). Was it not 
 enough to shake one's confidence in woman — in hu- 
 man nature — in human art (operatic) - in the world? 
 
 Yes, it was the Husband. 
 
 The Husband, Lord Fotheringay was disposed 
 to regard in pretty much the same light as Mr. Airey 
 regarded the Other Girl. The Husband was not 
 exactly the obstacle, but the inconvenience. He had 
 a habit of turning up, and it appeared that in the
 
 OX PROVIDENCE AS A MATCH-MAKER. 201 
 
 latest of Lord Fotheringay's experiences his turning 
 up had been more than usually inopportune. 
 
 " That is why I followed so close upon the heels 
 of my letter to you, " said the father. " The crash 
 came in a moment — it was literally a crash too, 
 now that I think upon it, for that hot-blooded 
 ruffian, her husband, caught one corner of the table 
 cloth — we were at supper — and swept everything 
 that was on the table into a corner of the room. 
 Yes. the bill is in my portmanteau. And she took 
 his part. Heavens above! She actually took his 
 part. I was the scoundrel — briccone! — the coarse 
 Italian is still ringing in my ears. It was anything 
 but a charming duetto. He sang a basso — her 
 upper register was terribly shrill — I had never 
 heard it more so. Artistically the scene was a 
 failure ; but I had to run for all that. Humiliating, 
 is it not, to be overcome by something that would, 
 if subjected to the recognized canons of criticism, 
 be pronounced a failure? And he swore that he
 
 202 A GEAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 would follow me and have my life. Enough. You 
 got my letter. Fortune is on your side, my boy. 
 You saved her life last night." 
 
 " Whose life did I save ? " asked the son. 
 
 "Whose life? Heavens above! Have you been 
 saving more than one life? " 
 
 u Not more than one — a good deal less than one. 
 Don't let us get into a sentimental strain, pater. You 
 are the chartered — ah, the chartered sentimentalist of 
 the family. Don't try and drag me into your strain. 
 I'm not old enough. A man cannot pose as a 
 sentimentalist nowadays until he is approaching 
 sixty." 
 
 "Really? Then I shall have to pause for a year 
 or two still. Let us put that question aside for a 
 moment. Should I be exceeding my privileges if I 
 were to tell you that I am ruined? — Financially 
 ruined, I mean, of course; thank heaven, I am 
 physically as strong as I was — ah, three years
 
 ON PROVIDENCE AS A MATCH-MAKER. 203 
 
 *You said something about my allowance, I 
 think." 
 
 8 If I did not I failed in my duty as a father,, 
 and I don't often do that, my boy— thank God, I 
 don't often do that." 
 
 "No," said Harold. "If the whole duty of a 
 father is comprised in acquainting his son with the 
 various reductions that he says he finds it neces- 
 sary to make in his allowance, you are the most 
 exemplary of fathers, pater." 
 
 "There is a suspicion of sarcasm — or what is 
 worse, epigram in that phrase," said the father. 
 u Never mind, you cannot epigram away the stern 
 fact that I have now barely a sufficient income to 
 keep body and soul together. I wish you could." 
 
 "So do I," said Harold. "But yours is a menage 
 a trois. It is not merely body and soul with you r 
 but body, soul, and sentiment — it is the third element 
 that is the expensive one." 
 
 " I dare say you are right. Anyhow, I grieve for
 
 204 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 your position, my boy. If it had pleased Heaven 
 to make me a rich man, I would see that your 
 allowance was a handsome one." 
 
 *But since it has pleased the other Power to 
 make you a poor one — " 
 
 " You must marry Miss Craven — that's the end 
 of the whole matter, and an end that most people 
 would be disposed to regard as a very happy one, 
 too. She is a virtuous young woman, and what 
 is better, she dresses extremely well. What is best 
 of all, she has several thousands a year." 
 
 There was a suggestion of the eighteenth century 
 phraseology in Lord Fotheringay's speech, that 
 made him seem at least a hundred years old. 
 Surely people did not turn up their eyes and talk 
 of virtue since the eighteenth century, Harold 
 thought. The word had gone out. There was 
 no more need for it. The quality is taken for 
 granted in the nineteenth century. 
 
 "You are a trifle over-vehement," said he.
 
 ON PROVIDENCE AS A MATCH-MAKER. 205 
 
 8 Have I ever refused to ask Miss Craven to 
 marry me?" 
 
 tf Have you ever asked her — that's the matter 
 before us? " 
 
 8 Never. But what does that mean ? Why, 
 simply that I have before me instead of behind me 
 a most interesting quarter of an hour — I suppose 
 a penniless man can ask a wealthy woman inside 
 a quarter of an hour, to marry him. The propo- 
 sition doesn't take longer in such a case than an 
 honourable one would." 
 
 8 You are speaking in a way that is not becom- 
 ing in a son addressing his father," said Lord 
 Fotheringay. " You almost make me ashamed of you. " 
 
 " You have had no reason to be ashamed of me 
 yet, " said Harold. a So long as I refrain from doing 
 what you command me to do, I give you no cause 
 to be ashamed of me." 
 
 "That is a pretty thing for a son to say," cried 
 the father, indignantly.
 
 206 A GKAY EYE OK SO. 
 
 "For heaven's sake don't let us begin a family 
 broil under the windows of a house where we are 
 guests," said the son, rising quickly from the chair. 
 u We are on the border of a genuine family bickering. 
 For God's sake let us stop in time." 
 
 a I did not come here to bicker, " said the father. 
 * Heavens above ! Am I not entitled to some show 
 of gratitude at least for having come more than a 
 thousand miles — a hundred of them in an Irish 
 train and ten of them on an Irish jolting car — 
 simply to see that you are comfortably settled for 
 life?" 
 
 8 Yes, " said the son, " I suppose I should feel 
 grateful to you for coining so far to tell me that 
 you are ruined and that I am a partner in your ruin. " 
 He had not seated himself, and now he turned 
 his back upon his father and walked round to the 
 west side of the Castle where some of the girls 
 were strolling. They were waiting to see how the 
 day would develop — if they should put on oilskins
 
 OX PROVIDENCE AS A MATCH-MAKER. 207 
 
 and sou'westers or gauzes and gossamer — the weather 
 on the confines of the ocean knows only the 
 extremes of winter or summer. 
 
 The farthest of the watchers were, he perceived. 
 Edmund Airey and Miss Avon. He walked toward 
 them, and pronounced in a somewhat irresponsible 
 way an opinion upon the weather. 
 
 Before the topic had been adequately discussed, 
 Mr. Durdan and another man came up to remind 
 Mr. Airey that he had given them his word to be 
 of their party in the fishing boat, where they were 
 accustomed to study the Irish question for some 
 hours daily. 
 
 Mr. Airey protested that his promise had been 
 wholly a conditional one. It had not been made 
 on the assumption that the lough should be moan- 
 ing like a Wagnerian trombone, and it could not 
 be denied that such notes were being produced by 
 the great rollers beneath the influence of a west- 
 erlv wind.
 
 208 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 Harold gave a little shrug to suggest to Beatrice 
 that the matter was not one that concerned her 
 or himself in the least, and that it might be as 
 well if Mr. Airey and his friends were left to 
 discuss it by themselves. 
 
 The shrug scarcely suggested all that he meant 
 it to suggest, but in the course of a minute he 
 was by the side of the girl a dozen yards away 
 from the three men. 
 
 "I wonder if you chanced to tell Mr. Airey of 
 the queer way you and I met," she said in a 
 moment. 
 
 " How could I have told any human being of 
 that incident? " he cried. " Why do you ask me 
 such a question ? " 
 
 " He knows all about it — so much is certain, " 
 said she. " Oh, yes, he gave me to understand so 
 much — not with brutal directness, of course." 
 
 " No, I should say not — brutal directness is not 
 in his line," said Harold.
 
 ON PROVIDENCE AS A MATCH-MAKER. 209 
 
 "But the result is just the same as if he had 
 been as direct as — as a girl." 
 
 "As a girl?" 
 
 "Yes. He said something about Miss Craven's 
 voice having suggested something supernatural to 
 Brian, and then he asked me all at once if there 
 had been any mist on the previous evening when 
 I had rowed across the lough. Now I should 
 like to know how he guessed that I had crossed 
 the lough on the previous night." 
 
 "He is clever — diabolically clever," said Harold 
 after a pause. "He was with Miss Craven in the 
 hall — they had been dancing — when I returned — I 
 noticed the way he looked at me. Was there 
 anything in my face to tell him that — that I had 
 met you? " 
 
 She looked at his face and laughed. 
 
 K Your face," she said. K Your face- -what could 
 there have been apparent on your face for Mr. 
 Airey to read ? " 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 210 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 "What — what?" his voice was low. He was 
 now looking into her gray eyes. u What was there 
 upon my face ? I cannot tell. Was it a sense of 
 doom? God knows. Now that I look upon your 
 face — even now I cannot tell whether I feel the 
 peace of God which passes understanding, or the 
 doom of those who go down to the sea and are 
 lost." 
 
 "I do not like to hear you speak in that way," 
 said she. " It would be better for me to die than 
 to mean anything except what is peaceful and 
 comforting to all of God's creatures." 
 
 " It would be better for you to die, " said he. He 
 took his eyes away from hers. They stood side 
 by side in silence for some moments, before he turned 
 suddenly to her and said in quite a different strain. 
 tf I shall row you across the lough when you are 
 ready. Will you go after lunch? " 
 
 "I don't think that I shall be going quite so 
 soon," said she. " The fact is that Lady Innisfail
 
 ON PROVIDENCE AS A MATCH-MAKER. 211 
 
 was good enough to send Brian with another letter 
 to my father — a letter from herself, asking my father 
 to come to the Castle for a day or two, but, whether 
 he comes or not, to allow me to remain for some days. " 
 
 Again some moments passed before Harold spoke. 
 
 " I want you to promise to let me know where 
 you go when you leave Ireland, " said he. " I don't 
 want to lose sight of you. The world is large. 
 I wandered about in it for nearly thirty years 
 before meeting you." 
 
 She was silent. It seemed as if she was considering 
 whether or not his last sentence should be regarded 
 as a positive proof of the magnitude of the world. 
 
 She appeared to come to the conclusion that it 
 w T ould be unwise to discuss the question — after 
 all, it was only a question of statistics. 
 
 "If you wish it," said she, "I shall let you 
 know our next halting-place. I fancy that my 
 poor father is less enthusiastic than he was some 
 years ago on the subject of Irish patriotism. At
 
 212 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 any rate, I think that he has worked out all the 
 battles fought in this region." 
 
 "Only let me know where you go," said he. 
 "I do not want to lose sight of you. What 
 did you say just now — peace and comfort to 
 God's creatures? No, I do not want to lose sight 
 of vou."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ON THE PROFESSIONAL MORALIST. 
 
 THE people — Edmund Airey was one of them — 
 who were accustomed to point to Harold Wynne 
 as an example of the insecurity of formulating any 
 definite theory of heredity, had no chance of being 
 made aware of the nature of the conversations in 
 which he had taken part, or they might not have been 
 quite so ready to question the truth of that theory. 
 
 His father had made it plain to him. both by 
 letter and word of mouth, that the proper course 
 for him to pursue was one that involved asking 
 Helen Craven to marry him — the adoption of any 
 other course, even a prosaic one, would practically 
 
 213
 
 214 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 mean ruin to him ; and yet he had gone straight 
 from the side of his father, not to the side of Miss 
 Craven, but to the side of Miss Avon. And not 
 only had he done this, but he had looked into the 
 gray eyes of Beatrice when he should have been 
 gazing with ardour — or simulated ardour — into the 
 rather lustreless orbs of Helen. 
 
 To do precisely the thing which he ought not 
 to have done was certainly a trait which he had 
 inherited from his father. 
 
 But he had not merely looked into the eyes of 
 the one girl when he should have been looking 
 into those of the other girl, he had spoken into 
 her ears such words as would, if spoken into the 
 ears of the other girl, have made her happy. The 
 chances were that the words which he had spoken 
 would lead to unhappiness. To speak such words 
 had been his father's weakness all his life, so that 
 it seemed that Harold had inherited this weakness 
 also.
 
 ON THE PROFESSIONAL MORALIST. 215 
 
 Perhaps for a moment or two, after Edmund 
 Airey had sauntered up, having got the better of 
 the argument with Mr. Durdan — he flattered himself 
 that he had invariably got the better of him in 
 the House of Commons — Harold felt that he was 
 as rebellious against the excellent counsels of his 
 father as his father had ever been against the 
 excellent precepts which society has laid down for 
 its own protection. He knew that the circumstance 
 of his father's having never accepted the good advice 
 which had been offered to him as freely as advice, 
 good and bad, is usually offered to people who 
 are almost certain not to follow it, did not diminish 
 from the wisdom of the course which his father 
 had urged upon him to pursue. He had acknow- 
 ledged to Edmund Airey some days before, that 
 the substance of the advice was good, and had 
 expressed his intention of following it — nay. he 
 felt even when he had walked straight from his 
 father's side to indulge in that earnest look into
 
 216 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 the eyes of Beatrice, that it was almost inevitable 
 that he should take the advice of his father; for 
 however distasteful it may be, the advice of a 
 father is sometimes acted on by a son. But still 
 the act of rebellion had been pleasant to him — as 
 pleasant to him as his father's acts of the same 
 character had been to his father. 
 
 And all this time Helen Craven was making her 
 usual elaborate preparations for finishing her sketch 
 of some local scene, and everyone knew that she 
 could not seek that scene unless accompanied by 
 someone to carry her umbrella and stool. 
 
 Lord Fotheringay perceived this in a moment 
 from his seat facing the south. He saw that 
 Providence was on the side of art, so to speak — 
 assuming that a water-colour sketch of a natural 
 landscape by an amateur is art, and assuming that 
 Providence meant simply an opportunity for his 
 son to ask Miss Craven to marry him. 
 
 Lord Fotheringay saw how Miss Craven lingered
 
 OX THE PROFESSIONAL MORALIST. 217 
 
 with her colour-box in one hand and her stool in 
 the other. What was she waiting for? He did 
 not venture to think that she was waiting for 
 Harold to saunter up and take possession of her 
 apparatus, but he felt certain that if Harold were 
 to saunter up. Miss Craven's eyes would brighten — 
 so far as such eyes as hers could brighten. His 
 teeth met with a snap that threatened the gold 
 springs when he saw some other man stroll up 
 and express the hope that Miss Craven would 
 permit him to carry her stool and umbrella, for 
 her sketching umbrella was brought from the hall 
 by a servant. 
 
 Lord Fotheringay's indignation against his son 
 was great afterwards. He made an excellent attempt 
 to express to Edmund Airey what he felt on the 
 subject of Harold's conduct, and Edmund shook 
 his head most sympathetically. 
 
 What was to be done, Lord Fotheringay inquired. 
 What was to be done in order to make Harold
 
 218 A GEAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 act in accordance with the dictates not merely of 
 prudence but of necessity as well? 
 
 Mr. Airey could not see that any positive action 
 could be taken in order to compel Harold to adopt 
 the course which every sensible person would 
 admit was the right course — in fact the only 
 course open to him under the circumstances. He 
 added that only two days ago Harold had 
 admitted that he meant to ask Miss Craven to 
 marry him. 
 
 "Heavens above!" cried Lord Fotheringay. "He 
 never admitted so much to me. Then what has 
 occurred to change him within a few days?" 
 
 "In such a case as this it is as well not to ask 
 ivhat but who," remarked Edmund. 
 
 Lord Fotheringay looked at him eagerly. 
 
 8 Who-r- who — you don't mean another girl?" 
 
 "Why should I not mean another girl?" said 
 Edmund. "You may have some elementary acquaint- 
 ance with woman, Lord Fotheringay."
 
 ON THE PROFESSIONAL 3IOEALIST. 219 
 
 "I have- -yes, elementary," admitted Lord Fother- 
 ingay. 
 
 "Then surely you must have perceived that a 
 man's attention is turned away from one woman 
 only by the appearance of another woman.'' said 
 Edmund. 
 
 "You mean that — by heavens, that notion oc- 
 curred to me the moment that I saw her. She is a 
 lovely creature, Airey. " 
 
 "'A gray eye or so!'" said Airey." 
 
 "A gray eye or so!" cried Lord Fotheringay, 
 who had not given sufficient attention to the works 
 of Shakespeare to recognize a quotation. K A gray 
 — Oh, you were always a cold-blooded fellow. Such 
 eyes, Airey, are so uncommon as — ah, the eyes are 
 not to the point. They only lend colour to your 
 belief that she is the other girl. Yes, that 
 notion occurred to me the moment she entered 
 the hall." 
 
 "I believe that but for her inopportune appear-
 
 220 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 ance Harold would now be engaged to Miss Craven," 
 said Edmund. 
 
 "There's not the shadow of a doubt about the 
 matter," cried Lord Fotheringay — both men seemed 
 to regard Miss Craven's acquiescence in the scheme 
 which they had in their minds, as outside the dis- 
 cussion altogether. "Now what on earth did Lady 
 Innisfail mean by asking a girl with such eyes to 
 stay here? A girl with such eyes has no business 
 appearing among people like us who have to settle 
 our mundane affairs to the best advantage. Those 
 eyes are a disturbing influence, Airey. They should 
 never be seen while matters are in an unsettled 
 condition. And Lady Innisfail professes to be 
 Harold's friend." 
 
 "And so she is," said Edmund. "But the delight 
 that Lady Innisfail finds in capturing a strange 
 face — especially when that face is beautiful — over- 
 comes- all other considerations with her. That is 
 why, although anxious — she was anxious yester-
 
 OX THE PROFESSIONAL MORALIST. 221 
 
 day, though that is not saying she is anxious to- 
 day — to hear of Harold's proposing to Miss Craven. 
 yet she is much more anxious to see the effect 
 produced by the appearance of Miss Avon among 
 her guests." 
 
 "And this is a Christian country I" said Lord 
 Fotheringay solemnly, after a pause of consider- 
 able duration. 
 
 "Nominally," said Mr. Airey. 
 
 "What is society coining to, Airey, when a 
 woman occupying the position of Lady Innisfail, 
 does not hesitate to throw all considerations of 
 friendship to the winds solely for the sake of a 
 momentary sensation ? " 
 
 Lord Fotheringay was now so solemn that his 
 words and his method of delivering them suggested 
 the earnestness of an evangelist — zeal is always 
 expected from an evangelist, though unbecoming 
 in an ordained clergyman. He held one finger out 
 and raised it and lowered it with the inflections
 
 222 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 of his voice with the skill of a professional 
 moralist. 
 
 He had scarcely spoken before Miss Avon, by 
 the side of the judge and Miss Innisfail, appeared 
 on the terrace. 
 
 The judge — he said he had known her father — 
 was beaming on her. Professing to know her 
 father he probably considered sufficient justification 
 for beaming on her. 
 
 Lord Fotheringay and his companion watched 
 the girl in silence until she and her companions 
 had descended to the path leading to the cliffs. 
 
 " Airey, " said Lord Fotheringay at length. 
 tf Airey, that boy of mine must be prevented from 
 making a fool of himself — he must be prevented 
 from making a fool of that girl. I would not like 
 to see such a girl as that — I think you said you 
 noticed her eyes — made a fool of." 
 
 " It would be very sad, " said Edmund. u But 
 what means do you propose to adopt to prevent
 
 OX THE PROFESSIONAL MORALIST. 223 
 
 the increase by two of the many fools already in 
 the world?" 
 
 ■ I mean to marry the girl myself, " cried Lord 
 Fotheringay, rising to his feet — not without some 
 little difficulty, for rheumatism had for years been 
 his greatest enemy.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 ON MODERN SOCIETY. 
 
 EDMUND AIREY had the most perfect command 
 of his features under all circumstances. While the 
 members of the Front Opposition Benches were 
 endeavouring to sneer him into their lobby, upon 
 the occasion of a division on some question on 
 which it was rumoured he differed from the Govern- 
 ment, he never moved a muscle. The flaunts and 
 gibes may have stung him, but he had never yet 
 given an indication of feeling the sting; so that 
 if Lord Fotheringay looked for any of those twitches 
 about the corners of Mr. Airey's mouth, which 
 the sudden announcement of his determination 
 
 224
 
 ON MODERN SOCIETY. 225 
 
 would possibly have brought around the mouth of 
 an ordinary man. he must have had little expe- 
 rience of his companion's powers. 
 
 But that Lord Fotheringav felt on the whole 
 greatly flattered by the impassiveness of Edmund 
 Airey's face after his announcement, Edmund Airey 
 did not for a moment doubt. When a man of 
 fifty-seven gravely announces his intention to 
 another man of marrying a girl of, perhaps, 
 twenty, and with eyes of remarkable lustre, and 
 when the man takes such an announcement as 
 the merest matter of course, the man who makes 
 it has some reason for feeling flattered. 
 
 The chances are, however, that he succeeds 
 in proving to his own satisfaction that he has 
 no reason for feeling flattered; for the man 
 of fifty-seven who is fool enough to entertain 
 the notion of marrying a girl of twenty with 
 lustrous eyes, is certainly fool enough to believe 
 that the announcement of his intention in 
 
 VOL. T. 15
 
 226 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 • 
 
 this respect is in no way out of the common. 
 
 Thus, when, after a glance concentrated upon the 
 corners of Edmund Airey's mouth, Lord Fotheringay 
 resumed his seat and began to give serious reasons 
 for taking the step that he had declared himself 
 ready to take — reasons beyond the mere natural 
 desire to prevent Miss Avon from being made a 
 fool of — he gave no indication of feeling in the least 
 flattered by the impassiveness of the face of his 
 companion. 
 
 Yes, he explained to Mr. Airey, he had been so 
 badly treated by the world that he had almost, 
 made up his mind to retire from the world — the 
 exact words in which he expressed that resolution 
 were " to let the world go to the devil in its own 
 way." 
 
 Now, as the belief was general that Lord 
 Fotheringay' s presence in the world had materially 
 accelerated its speed in the direction which he had 
 indicated, the announcement of his intention to
 
 OH MODERN SOCIETY. 227 
 
 allow it to proceed without his assistance was not 
 absurd. 
 
 Yes. he had been badly treated by the world, 
 he said. The world was very wicked. He felt sad 
 when he thought of the vast amount of wicked- 
 ness there was in the world, and the small amount 
 of it that he had already enjoyed. To be sure, it 
 could not be said that he had quite lived the life 
 of the ideal anchorite: he admitted — and smacked 
 his lips as he did so — that he had now and again 
 had a good time (Mr. Airey did not assume that 
 the word " good " was to be accepted in its Sunday- 
 school sense) but on the whole the result was 
 disappointing. 
 
 "As saith the Preacher." remarked Mr. Airey. 
 when Lord Fotheringay paused and shook his head 
 so that another little scrap of caked powder escaped 
 from the depths of one of the wrinkles of his 
 forehead. 
 
 "The Preacher — what Preacher ?" he asked.
 
 228 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 "The Preacher who cried Valutas Vanitatum, " 
 
 said Edmund. 
 
 " He had gone on a tour with an Italian opera 
 company," said Lord Fotheringay, "and he had 
 fallen foul of the basso. Airey, my boy, whatever 
 you do, steer clear of a prima donna with a high 
 soprano. It means thousands — thousands, and a 
 precipitate flight at the last. You needn't try a 
 gift of paste — the finest productions of the Ormuz 
 Gem Company — 'a Tiara for Thirty Shillings'— you 
 know their advertisement — no, I've tried that. It 
 was no use. The real thing she would have — 
 Heavens above! Two thousand pounds for a 
 trinket, and nothing to show for it, but a smashing 
 of supper plates and a hurried flight. Ah, Airey, 
 is it any wonder that I should make up my mind 
 to live a quiet life with — I quite forget who was 
 in my mind when I commenced this interesting 
 conversation? " 
 
 "It makes no difference, " said Mr. Airey. "The
 
 ON MODERN SOCIETY. 229 
 
 principle is precisely the same. There is Miss 
 Innisfail looking for someone. I must go to her." 
 
 " A desperately proper girl," said Lord Fother- 
 ingay. " As desperately proper as if she had once 
 been desperately naughty. These proper girls know 
 a vast deal. She scarcely speaks to me. Yes, she 
 must know a lot." 
 
 His remarks were lost upon Mr. Airey, for he 
 had politely hurried to Miss Innisfail and was 
 asking her if he could be of any assistance to her. 
 But when Miss Innisfail replied that she was merely 
 waiting for Brian, the boatman, who should have 
 returned long ago from the other side of the lough, 
 Mr. Airey did not return to Lord Fotheringay. 
 
 He had had enough of Lord Fotheringay for one 
 afternoon, and he hoped that Lord Fotheringay 
 would understand so much. He had long ago 
 ceased to be amusing. As an addition to the house- 
 party at the Castle he was unprofitable. He knew 
 that Lady Innisfail was of this opinion, and he was 
 
 vol. i. *
 
 230 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 well aware also that Lady Innisfail had not gi\en 
 him more than a general and very vague invitation 
 to the Castle. He had simply come to the Castle in 
 order to avoid the possibly disagreeable consequences 
 of buying some thousands of pounds' worth of 
 diamonds— perhaps it would be more correct to 
 say, diamonds costing some thousands of pounds, 
 leaving worth out of the question — for a woman 
 with a husband. 
 
 Airey knew that the philosophy of Lord Fother- 
 ingay was the philosophy of the maker of ome- 
 lettes. No one has yet solved the problem of how 
 to make omelettes without breaking eggs. Lord 
 Fotheringay had broken a good many eggs in his 
 day, and occasionally the result was that his share 
 of the transaction was not the omelette but the 
 broken shells. Occasionally, too, Edmund Airey 
 was well aware, Lord Fotheringay had suffered 
 more inconvenience than was involved in the mere 
 fact of his being deprived of the comestible. His
 
 ON MODERN SOCIETY. 231 
 
 latest adventure. Airey thought, might be included 
 among such experiences. He had fled to the brink 
 of the ocean in order to avoid the vengeance of 
 the Husband. " Here the pursuer can pursue no 
 more, " was the line that was in Edmund Airey's 
 mind as he listened to the fragmentary account of 
 the latest contretemps of the rheumatic butterfly. 
 
 Yes, he had had quite enough of Lord Fotheringay's 
 company. The announcement of his intention to 
 marry Miss Avon had not made hini more interest- 
 ing in the eyes of Edmund Airey. though it might 
 have done so in other people's eyes — for a man who 
 makes himself supremely ridiculous makes himself 
 supremely interesting as well, in certain circles. 
 
 The announcement made by Lord Fotheringay 
 had caused him to seem ridiculous, though of course 
 Edmund had made no sign to this effect: had he 
 made any sign he would not have heard the par- 
 ticulars of Lord Fotheringay's latest fiasco, and he 
 was desirous of learning those particulars. Having
 
 232 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 become acquainted with them, however, he found 
 that he had had quite enough of his company. 
 
 But in the course of the afternoon Mr. Airey 
 perceived that, though in his eyes there was some- 
 thing ridiculous in the notion of Lord Fotheringay's 
 expression of a determination to marry Beatrice Avon, 
 the idea might not seem quite so ridiculous to other 
 people — Miss Avon's father, for instance. 
 
 In another moment he had come to the conclu- 
 sion that the idea might not seem altogether absurd 
 to Miss Avon herself. 
 
 Young women of twenty — even when they have 
 been endowed by heaven with lustrous eyes (assuming 
 that the lustre of a young woman's eyes is a gift 
 from heaven, and not acquired to work the pur- 
 poses of a very different power) — have been known 
 to entertain without repugnance the idea of marrying 
 impecunious peers of fifty-seven; and upon this 
 circumstance Edmund pondered. 
 
 Standing on the brink of a cliff at the base of
 
 ON MODERN SOCIETY. 233 
 
 which the great rollers were crouching like huge 
 white-nianed lions, Mr. Airey reflected as he had 
 never previously done, upon the debased condition 
 of modern society, in which such incidents are of 
 constant occurrence. But, however deplorable such 
 incidents are. he knew perfectly well that there 
 never had existed a society in the world where 
 they had not been quite as frequent as they are 
 in modern society in England. 
 
 Yes, it was quite as likely as not that Lord 
 Fotheringay would be able to carry out the inten- 
 tion which he had announced to his confidant of 
 the moment. 
 
 But when Mr. Airey thought of the lustrous eyes 
 of Beatrice Avon, recalling the next moment the 
 rheumatic movements of Lord Fotheringay and the 
 falling of the scrap of caked powder from his forehead, 
 he felt quixotic enough to be equal to the attempt 
 to prevent the realization of Lord Fotheringay's 
 intention.
 
 234 A GRAY EYE OR 80. 
 
 It was then that the thought occurred to him — Why 
 should not Harold, who was clearly ready to fall 
 in love with the liquid eyes of Beatrice Avon, ask 
 her to marry him instead of his father? 
 
 The result of his consideration of this question 
 was to convince him that such an occurrence as 
 it suggested should be averted at all hazards. 
 
 Only the worst enemy that Harold Wynne could 
 have — the worst enemy that the girl could have — 
 would like to see them married. 
 
 It would be diiferent if the hot-blooded Italian 
 husband were to pursue the enemy of his house- 
 hold to the brink of the Atlantic cliffs and then 
 push him over the cliffs into the depths of the 
 Atlantic Ocean. But the hot-blooded Italian was 
 not yet in sight, and Edmund knew very well that 
 so long as Lord Fotheringay lived, Harold was 
 dependent on him for his daily bread. 
 
 If Harold were to marry Miss Avon, it would 
 lie in his father's power to make him a pauper,
 
 ON MODERN SOCIETY. 235 
 
 or, worse, the professional director with the hon- 
 orary prefix of * Honourable " to his name, dear to 
 the company promoter. 
 
 On the death of Lord Fotheringay Harold would 
 inherit whatever property still remained out of 
 the hands of the mortgagees ; but Edmund was 
 well aware of the longevity of that species of 
 butterfly which is susceptible of rheumatic attacks: 
 so that for, perhaps, fifteen years Harold might 
 remain dependent upon the good-will of his father 
 for his daily bread. 
 
 It thus appeared to Mr. Airey that the problem 
 of how to frustrate the intentions of Lord Fother- 
 ingay, was not an easy one to solve. 
 
 He knew the world too well to entertain for a 
 moment the possibility of defeating Lord Fother- 
 ingay's avowed purpose by informing either the 
 girl or her father of the evil reputation of Lord 
 Fotheringay. The evil deeds of a duke have 
 occasionally permitted his wife to obtain a divorce;
 
 236 A GRAY EYE OR SO. 
 
 but they have never prevented him from obtaining 
 another wife. 
 
 All this Mr. Edmund Airey knew, having lived 
 in the world and observed the ways of its Inha- 
 bitants for several years. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
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