^^sm,^ , 

 
 LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVERS ITY 
 
 or ILLI NOIS 
 
 V.I
 
 A LIFE'S DEVOTION. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 NEW AND POPULAR NOVELS 
 
 AT ALL THE LIBRARIES. 
 
 THE HEEMITS OF CRJZEBECK. By Henry 
 
 Ckesswell, author of 'A Modern Greek Heroine,' &c. 3 vols. 
 
 A LADY OF MY OWK By Helen Peothero Lewis, 
 
 author of ' Her Hearts Desire.' 3 vols. 
 
 A RAINBOW AT NIGHT. By M. E. Le Clerc, 
 
 author of ' Mistress Beatrice Cope.' 2 vols. 
 
 KINSFOLK. By Mary Deake, author of ' Quaterfoil/ 
 
 'St. Briavels,' &c. 3 vols. 
 
 THE PHILADELPHIAN. By Louis John Jennings, 
 
 M.P., author of 'The Millionaire,' 'Field Paths," &c a vola. 
 
 LONDON : HURST & BLACKETT, LIMITED.
 
 A LIFE'S DEVOTION 
 
 BY 
 
 LADY VIRGINIA SANDARS 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 " A BITTER REPENTANCE." 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, LIMITED, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1891. 
 
 AH J\ii;/iis Reserved.
 
 
 A LIFE'S DEVOTION. 
 
 i" 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It was upon one of those typical Irish days, 
 when the sun persistently refuses to cast its 
 beneficent rays over the face of nature, but, 
 notwithstanding, a day soft, breezy, and exhilar- 
 ating, that a young man in full shooting attire, 
 and carrying a gun on his shoulder, found him- 
 self, as he deemed, hopelessly astray in the wilds 
 of the county Leitriin. It is a county boasting 
 of scant beauty, but abounding in a multitude 
 of small and large flat-shored lakes, rich also in 
 ^ innumerable bogs of a dark brown hue, which 
 ,^ characteristics give to the scenery a certain wild 
 and weird expression especially its own. 
 
 To those brought up and dwelling in the 
 vicinity of these lakes and brown bogs, their 
 ^^ VOL. I. B 
 
 .1 
 
 i
 
 2 A LIFE S DEVOTION. 
 
 cheerless, unkempt aspect has many attractions, 
 unappreciated by the more cultivated English 
 eye. 2\nd, to the stalwart young Briton who 
 !iow viewed it for the first time, the desolate 
 landscape surrounding him on all sides was 
 mournful and uninteresting to the last degree. 
 In vain he strained his gaze in every direction, 
 not the vestige of a human dwelling was to be 
 seen, and Captain Carraichael, being desperately 
 hungry, disconsolately reflected that his chances 
 -of procuring food on this dreary waste were of 
 the remotest description. 
 
 He had quitted, at an early period that morn- 
 ing, the inn where he had been staying for the 
 night, en route to the house of his friend, Lord 
 Ballina, to whom he was going to pay a long- 
 promised visit, and having no predilection for 
 the only mode of locomotion offered him, an 
 Irish jaunting-car, he had elected to walk across 
 the intervening bogs to his host's place, a dis- 
 tance of about ten miles as the crow flies. 
 Being a keen sportsman, he looked forward to 
 a day's snipe-shooting as compensation for his 
 solitary w^alk, and, believing he clearly under- 
 stood the directions given him, had refused a
 
 A life's devotion. 3 
 
 guide. His sole companiou was, therefore, a 
 black retriever, who now, evidently considering 
 that his day's work should be ended, sat down 
 on his haunches, and, looking up at his master, 
 gave a prolonged dismal whine. , Stooping and 
 patting the animal's head. Captain Carmichael 
 mournfully addressed his canine friend, saying, 
 
 * Ah, you are evidently hungry also, old boy, 
 but, as far as I can see, starvation stares us both 
 in the face, for not the ghost of a human being 
 do I see anywhere'.' 
 
 These words had hardly passed his hps ere 
 he was pleasantly surprised by hearing a loud, 
 shrill voice call out, in a rich Hibernian brogue, 
 
 ' Miss Shelah ! Miss Shelah ! Come back, me 
 jewel. It's damping, and it's yer death you'll 
 catch, and not the insect.' 
 
 Overjoyed at the sound of a human voice, the 
 yoiuig man turned and observed, for the first 
 time, a woman standing at a little distance from 
 him, and violently gesticulating to some one in 
 the distance. Looking round to sec to whom 
 her words were addressed, he perceived the 
 tiny figure of a child, conspicuous from her wear- 
 ing a scarlet cloak, flitting to and fro, like a Will- 
 
 B 2
 
 4 A LIFE S DEVOTION'. 
 
 o'-the-Wisp, ou the partially reclaimed bog over 
 which he had been shooting. No response was 
 vouchsafed by this little figure to the imploring 
 words addressed her, beyond a silvery laugh 
 accompanied by an impatent waive of a small 
 hand, as, with the agility of a young kid, she 
 sprang across one of those deep narrow fissures of 
 which there were many throughout the bog, and 
 from whence turf was wont originally to be cut. 
 The child was absorbed in the chase of a 
 dilatory butterfly that had delayed its entrance 
 into gayer life until summer suns and bright 
 flowers were glories of the past, reckless that its 
 ephemeral existence must inevitably be cur- 
 tailed by the nipping frosts of early autumn. 
 For the season was rapidly advancing, and the 
 soft October breeze, precursor of fiercer winds, 
 even now bore on its downy western wings an 
 ever-increasing mist from the Atlantic, whose 
 waves were breaking in solemn grandeur on the 
 rocky waste not very many miles distant, while 
 several sea-gulls, their snowy bosoms making 
 specks of light against the dark sky, hovered 
 low in the air, giving forth their melancholy cry 
 that foretells the coming storm.
 
 A life's devotion. 5 
 
 'Damping' is essentially an Irish expression, 
 accurately describing a state of weather which 
 is neither rain nor fog, but which will assuredly 
 as thoroughly penetrate your garments, if you 
 remain exposed to its insidious influence a 
 sufficient length of time, as the veriest downpour 
 of rain. But, in the joyous freedom of the hour, 
 both child and butterfly were equally unmind- 
 ful of what evil possibility the future might hold 
 in store for them. As yet the butterfly's wings 
 were unweighted by the mist, the child's spirit 
 was undashed by any fear of evil consequences. 
 
 As he watched, with suddenly awakened 
 interest, the graceful movements of what ap- 
 peared to him a spirit of the bog, so suddenly 
 had it arisen on his vision, the young sports- 
 man forgot his previous anxieties respecting 
 his whereabouts, and became equally oblivious 
 of the pangs of hunger from which he had been 
 suffering, while his dog, with the instinctive 
 sagacity of its race, evidently confident that 
 succour was at hand, jumped up and cocked its 
 ears excitedly. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the little figure was rapidly 
 approaching nearer to the young sportsman,
 
 6 A life's devotiox. 
 
 but she was too intent on the object she had in 
 view to be aware of his presence. In her hand 
 she held a slender reed to which was attached a 
 green, muslin bag, wherewith she trusted to 
 imprison her prey, not with any fell puq^ose, 
 but in order that, b}' closer inspection, she 
 might feast her eyes on its beautiful gay 
 colouring. 
 
 * Butterfly, butterfly, do please stay a while,* 
 she called out, imploringly, and panting for 
 breath, as with eager impetuosity she sped 
 swiftly over the bog after the tantalising object 
 of her desire, ever eluding the net as she felt 
 secure of the prize. 
 
 The rays of a lurid setting sun moment- 
 arily appearing from beneath a heavy bank of 
 onimously black clouds, cast occasional vivid 
 yellow lights across the dark bog, causing 
 the child's figure, every now and again, to 
 stand out clear and sharp against the sky, not- 
 withstanding the rapidly increasing gloom of 
 the weather. 
 
 In her white frock and little scarlet cloak, 
 which, caught by the breeze, floated airily about 
 her, and with her fair hair blowing about in the
 
 A LIFE S DEVOTIOX. 7 
 
 wildest confusioD, this sprite made a bright 
 speck of animated life, enlivening the otherwise 
 depressing landscape. Her hat she had long 
 discarded, and fastened to her waistband, and 
 there certainly seemed every chance of the 
 child catching the cold predicted by her nurse. 
 
 Farther and forther she was tlying away from 
 this anxious attendant, whose lungs were ex- 
 hausted from shrieking out for the return of her 
 refractory charge. Finally, hopeless of being 
 obeyed, she prepared to pursue the truant, mur- 
 muring in wild despair, as she tucked up her 
 petticoats preparatory to the chase, 
 
 ' Oh, Patrick, Patrick, ye blessed saint, when 
 ye were about it, why didn't ye expel them 
 painted desaving insects out of the island along 
 with all the other sarpints and reptiles.' 
 
 Just at this moment, the child suddenly 
 arrested her headlong career, and stood immov- 
 able. The butterfly had alighted on a tuft of 
 decaying heather. 
 
 With her red hps parted, and her eyes, which 
 in singular contrast to her fair hair, were very 
 dark, wide open from excitement, she stealthily 
 approached the object she had so long beea
 
 8 A life's devotiox. 
 
 pursuing, holding in her hand the slender pole, 
 to which the green bag was attached, well aloft 
 and stretched out to the utmost limit her small 
 arm could manage. Even then she found she 
 was not sufficiently near to the anticipated 
 prize, and therefore, unheeding where she trod, 
 she advanced cautiously on tip-toe a little closer 
 to the beauteous insect, now busily occupied 
 imbibing what nourishment it might extract 
 from the withered heather. Secure of victory, 
 the child hardly dared to breathe. p]verything 
 must be done so gently in order not to injure 
 the butterfly in any way: for Shelah had a 
 tender heart. Lower and lower the green bag 
 descended. It was all but touching the happy 
 butterfly, still unconscious of its danger. 
 
 But, alas, at the very moment when the prize 
 seemed to be under the little hunter's very 
 hand, the sudden, quick bark of a dog caused 
 her not only to start violently, but to drop the 
 pole quivering in her grasp, while at the same 
 inauspicious instant her foot caught in a soft 
 lump of moss, and over she rolled into a deep 
 bog-hole on the very edge of which she had, 
 unconsciously, been standing. Alarmed by the
 
 A life's devotion. 9 
 
 commotion, away flew the butterfly, and, if 
 butterflies can laugh, this one must certainly 
 have indulged in merriment at Shelah's expense. 
 
 Some one did laugh, at a little distance, a 
 hearty, but melodious laugh. To the child this 
 seemed to be close in her ear. 
 
 ' The fairies are mocking at me, or perhaps it 
 is the Will-o'-the-\Visp, to which I\Iick says the 
 bog really belongs,' whispered Shelah softly to 
 herself, and hiding her face in her hands. 
 
 She had often been in a bog-hole before, and 
 did not feel the least terror of her present 
 position, but she did stand a little in awe of the 
 Will-o'-the-Wisp, though she had a great long- 
 ing to see this mysterious being, but not when 
 "alone. And Mick had promised some day they 
 should see him together. 
 
 Luckily for Shelah, the bog-hole into which 
 she had fallen only contained a few inches of 
 "water, but it was dark and brown in colour, and 
 she had fallen on her f\ice. The ground was, how- 
 ever, soft and spongy, therefore she was wholly 
 uninjured, but, notwithstanding, her pretty face 
 and frock were sadly discoloured from the effects 
 of the brown water, and tlio cliild presented but
 
 10 A life's devotiox. 
 
 a sorry figure, as she stood, dismayed and dis- 
 consolate, in the dismal hole, into which the 
 ardour of the chase had cast her. Then, though 
 she had often tumbled into bog-holes before, 
 never had fate betrayed her into one where 
 the sides were s** steep and smooth as this. 
 
 How could she ever extricate herself without 
 help ? As she turned this problem over in her 
 mind, a second laugh, just above her head, 
 caused her to tremble from head to foot ; but 
 after all, if it was the Will-o'-the-Wisp making 
 fun of her, perhaps he was good-natured, and 
 would aid a poor little girl in her diflSculties, if 
 she was very civil and betrayed no fear. Gather- 
 ing courage from this reflection, she ventured 
 to glance upwards, peeping through her fingers, 
 when she encountered a pair of keen, gi'ey eyes 
 looking humorously, but kindly down upon 
 her, while a melodious voice said, cheerfully, 
 
 'Pluck up courage, little lady. 1 am your 
 knight come to deliver you from the black 
 prison into which unkind fate has plunged you.' 
 
 So saying, he of the grey eyes and kindly 
 voice, jumped down into the bog-hole, and 
 stood by Shelah's side, inspiring her with com-
 
 A life's DEVOTION'. 1 1 
 
 fort and hope of deliverance from durance 
 vile. 
 
 He was a tall man, w^hose dark-brown curly 
 head rose above the depths of the bog-hole, 
 and, taking the child in his arms, he easily 
 hoisted her up, and placed her on terra Jirma, 
 where his dog, whose bark had caused Shelah's 
 mishap perhaps considering himself to blame, 
 sniffed amicably about her wet skirts, and then 
 proceeded to lick her hands in a protective, 
 sympathetic manner. 
 
 * What a brave little woman you are not to 
 cry over such a nasty fall,' said Shelah's rescuer, 
 as, with his hands resting on the side of the bog- 
 hole, he vaulted nimbly out and stood beside 
 her. 
 
 Raising a pair of velvetty brown eyes, the 
 child looked up shyly. Quickly her thoughts 
 had travelled, and she felt convinced that this 
 tall stranger, so unexpectedly arisen to aid her, 
 could by no means be the Will-o'-the-Wisp, 
 whom Mick had described as small of stature and 
 singularly ill-favoured. Moreover, the prover- 
 bial lantern was wanting. 
 
 ' Was it you who laughed at mo?' she asked,.
 
 12 A life's devotion. 
 
 solemnly. * I thought it was the Will-o'-the- 
 Wisp/ 
 
 * And you could have forgiven him for being 
 so rude, but not me !' he repHed, smiHng. 
 
 ' The Will-o'-the-Wisp would have known no 
 better, and besides Mick says the bog belongs to 
 him. It is rude of a grown-up gentleman to 
 laugh at people in trouble.' 
 
 ' So it is, little one ; but 1 have helped you out 
 of yours. This good office the Will-o'-the-Wisp 
 neglected to perform. So you must forgive 
 me.' 
 
 ' But I don't like being laughed at,' she re- 
 plied, ruefull}', as she shook her dripping golden 
 hair back from her pretty face. 
 
 * Nobody does, little one. Ridicule has a 
 potent power of its own, and hurls us down 
 head-long when other forces fail to touch us. 
 But in truth 1 was not laughing at you, but at my 
 dog's comical look of surprise at your sudden 
 engulfment. But come, don't cry, and make me 
 consider you no braver than other little girls !' he 
 said, kindly, seeing the tears welling up in her 
 eyes as she looked disconsolately down at her 
 «tained frock. * Here, we will see if we can't
 
 A life's devotion. 13- 
 
 make this look better,' he continued, taking out 
 his handkerchief and beginning to dry her dress, 
 Shelah choked back her desire for a good cry. 
 She was proud of being thought brave, and 
 losing her shyness thanked this kind stranger 
 prettily. She felt comforted by his assurance 
 that he had not laughed at her. 
 
 * I had been watching you for some time,' he 
 said, as he scrubbed dihgently at her frock. * I 
 forgot my own sport in observing yours, and 
 lost some snipe in consequence. But tell me, 
 what were you running after so wildly?' 
 
 • A butterfly,' she half sobbed out. ' I only 
 wanted it to stay a little while with me. It was 
 so beautiful, but it has gone quite — quite away, 
 and we shall see no more this year. And it is 
 my greatest pleasure to catch one, not to hurt 
 it but just to look at it.' 
 
 ' Poor little girl, 1 am so sorry for you. But, 
 the more eagerly Ave rush after the butterfly 
 pleasures of this life, the more certain we are to 
 meet with disappointment,' he replied, looking 
 down on her rather sadly. * Such pleasures are 
 as ephemeral as the insect life they represent. 
 And yet we are never weary of the chase.'
 
 14 A life's devotiox. 
 
 The young man sighed heavily-, he had been 
 speaking more to himself than to the child, but, 
 as she looked up at him with a puzzled air of 
 enquiry, he smiled, and, realising tliat he was 
 talking above her comprehension, said cheerily, 
 
 ' There, the frock looks much better, and you 
 will get no scoldings I feel sure.' 
 
 ' Scoldings !' she laughed, merrily. ' I'm never 
 scolded.' 
 
 'Never scolded! then you are never naughty.' 
 
 ' Oh, yes, sometimes. But then I'm always 
 sorry afterwards, quick, quite quick,' she added, 
 gravely. 
 
 * That is more than bigger folks are. But tell 
 me, little one, are you alloAved to wander about 
 all alone on this melancholy bog? For, if the 
 Will-o'-the-Wisp is your sole guardian, he has 
 been very careless of his charge to-day.' 
 
 ' Hush! You must not talk so loud about him. 
 He is spiteful sometimes. Perhaps he is angry 
 Tvith me for bunting the butterflies.' 
 
 She looked round furtively. 
 
 * Why so V 
 
 ' Because Mick says they are the souls of the 
 Will-o'-the- Wisps, which they have lost, and
 
 A life's devotion. 15 
 
 when the butterflies come on the bog the Will- 
 o'-the- Wisps try to catch them. But you see I 
 only wanted to look at the butterfly, I would not 
 hurt one for the whole world, so it was spiteful 
 of the Will-o'-the-Wisp to push me into the bog ; 
 for,' she added, confidentially, ' I think he did.' 
 
 ' It was very nngallant of him to be so rude to 
 such a dear little girl,' replied the young man, 
 gazing down with deep interest upon the child's 
 innocent face, lifted up to his so confidingly. 
 
 But all further conversation between them 
 was arrested by the appearance of Shelali's nurse, 
 who pale with fright ran breathlessly up, ex- 
 claiming with tears in her eyes, 
 
 'Oh I Miss Shelah! Miss Shclah ! Are you 
 hurt? It's the death of me you'll be some day, 
 mavourneen, hunting after them desaving 
 insects.' 
 
 Then she fell to hugging and kissing the 
 child ; scolding her humorously meanwhile. 
 Finally, having nearly smothered her with 
 caresses, she turned to the tall stranger, and 
 making a curtsey said, with grateful eff*asion, 
 
 'Blessed be all the saints you were nigh, sir, 
 for Miss Shelali's is a precious life.'
 
 16 A life's devotion. 
 
 She pressed the child again to her faithful 
 heart as she spoke, while Shelah, nestling in 
 her arms, whispered mournfully, 
 
 ' The Will- o'-the- Wisp would not let me catch 
 the butterfly after all, Bridget.' 
 
 * I sometimes think you will turn out to be 
 a Will-o'- the- Wisp yourself, darling.' 
 
 'I am a little girl, so I can't be, and I have a 
 soul — 1 have a soul,' replied the child, triumph- 
 antly, ' and they have lost theirs.' 
 
 As she spoke, she broke away from her nurse, 
 who, having tied on her hat, was endeavouring 
 to tighten the silver clasps of her scarlet cloak, 
 and began to dance wildly on the bog in the 
 exuberance of childish spirits. Captain Car- 
 michael gazed at her with amused admiration ; 
 her brightness and beauty were in such strange 
 contrast with the scenery ; and, catching hold of 
 her, he said : 
 
 *I beheve you are a bog-fairy yourself, 
 pretty one, and therefore ought to have com- 
 passion on the poor Will-o'-the- Wisps who you 
 say have lost their souls, and, wiser than many 
 others, are aware of their great loss, and seek to 
 recover them.'
 
 A life's devotion. 17 
 
 ' But they sba'u't, they sha'n^t. For I love 
 the butterflies, and, if the Will-o'-the-Wisps get 
 back their souls, I shall never see my pretty 
 friends again,' called out the child, continuing 
 her wild dance, in which the dog now joined, 
 frisking about her and barking loudly, in ac-- 
 knowledgment of having so congenial a play- 
 mate. 
 
 ' You are pitiless, little Shelah ; but what a 
 pretty name yours is. I have never heard it 
 before.' 
 
 The child stopped dancing, and, opening her 
 dark eyes very wide, said solemnly, in a tone 
 of surprise, 
 
 * Never heard it before ? Why, I am de- 
 scended from the kings of Ireland. We had 
 kings of our own once, and Mick says, when 
 we have driven all the English into the sea, we 
 shall have them again. And then I shall be a 
 queen, a queen.' 
 
 ' Queen Shelah, allow me to kneel down and 
 kiss your hand in token of my future allegiance/ 
 he answered, gaily, kneeling down and kissing 
 the little hand which, to his great amusement, 
 she held out with considerable dignity towards 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 A life's devotion. 
 
 him. Spriuging to bis feel, he turned to the 
 nurse, saying : 
 
 * It is most fortunate for me that I met you, 
 for I have lost my way on these bogs, and I 
 feel sure you can tell me the nearest road to 
 Lord Ballina's.' 
 
 * Why, that is my papa !' exclaimed Shelah, 
 excitedly. * And you must be the EngHsh gen- 
 tleman he is expecting.' 
 
 * Queen Shelah, this is most fortunate. Lead 
 on, pretty one, for here comes the rain, which 
 indeed does not seem long absent from your 
 majesty's dominions.'
 
 19 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 •Captain Carmichael had not spoken without 
 reason, for it was no longer damping, but a 
 steady downpour had begun to fall, while the 
 long line of yellow light on the horizon, which 
 had lent momentary brightness to the mournful 
 landscape, had wholly disappeared, and the bank 
 of black clouds above had lowered and now 
 iippeared to lie on the distant edge of the bog. 
 Nothing remained to redeem the unutterable 
 dreariness of the landscape except the figure of 
 the child in her scarlet cloak, which Bridget had 
 flow firmly secured about her neck, while she 
 endeavoured to retain her by the hand in order 
 to prevent further escapades. 
 
 But vain were the good woman's efforts, for 
 every now and then Shelah broke loose, and, 
 rushing from beneath the sheltering umbrella, 
 danced wildly on in front, tossing her arms 
 
 C2
 
 20 A life's devotion. 
 
 gleefully up in the air as, with youthful agility, 
 she sprang over — when this was feasible — every 
 bog-hole that impeded her joyous career, while 
 the dog, madly excited at having made ac- 
 quaintance with so congenial a companion, 
 joined merrily in her fun and frolic. That 
 Shelah was slightly self-willed was apparent 
 from her total disregard of Bridget's commands 
 that she should return beneath the shelter of 
 the umbrella, but when the woman called out, 
 in tender accents_, ' It's me heart you're break- 
 ing, Miss Shelah,' the little girl raced back like 
 lightning, kissed the nurse's hand, and walked 
 by her side quite demurely for some minutes, 
 chattering meanwhile with the young man w^ith 
 all the innocent familiarity of childhood. 
 
 ' Do you see that plantation of fir-trees ? 
 Behind it is our lake and our house. Are you 
 going to stay with papa long ? Have you 
 brought money for the poor people?' 
 
 Her face assumed a graver look as she made 
 this last query, and she fixed her dark, speaking- 
 eyes on him. 
 
 ' I hope to stay some weeks with your papa, 
 little Shelah, and I have brought some money
 
 A life's devotiox. 21 
 
 for the poor people, whicli 1 hope may be of 
 use.' 
 
 *0h, I am so glad!' she replied, earnestly. 
 * They suffer so much. When I am queen, I 
 ^vill make new laws for them. And everybody 
 shall have plenty to eat and no one shall ever 
 wear rags. I don't sleep at nights sometimes 
 thinking of the poor little children. They arc 
 so thin — so thin, and hardly any clothes on.' 
 
 Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke. The 
 joyous little fairy had been suddenly transformed 
 into a prematurely suffering human soul ; suf- 
 fering for those woes of others it was daily 
 called upon to witness. 
 
 * Please, sir, don't encourage her to talk about 
 the famine,' said Bridget, in a low tone. ' She 
 thinks too much about it. And we bring her 
 out here that she may sport about awhile, away 
 from sight of scenes sad enough for older eyes 
 than hers, bless her heart.' 
 
 Suddenly the child, who had become quite 
 silent after her last remark, looked slyly up into 
 the young man's face, and said, confidentially, 
 
 * I know your name. It is Hugh. Papa calls 
 you " dear old Hugh ;" and mamma looks sad
 
 22 A life's devotion. 
 
 when yonr name is mentioned, and says, "Poor 
 Hugh !" Why are yon poor, Hugh ? You have 
 not lost your soul, have you?' 
 
 ' I devoutly trust not, pretty one,' he replied. 
 * Perhaps your mother calls me "poor Hugh"" 
 because she knows that, hke you, I was in pur- 
 suit of a butterfly, and, just as I thought I was 
 secure of making it my own, it escaped me for 
 ever.' 
 
 Hugh Carmichael looked down upon the child 
 with a sad smile as he uttered these words. 
 
 * I'm so sorry — so sorry,' she whispered, steal- 
 ing her hand into his, with some dim perception 
 that her new friend's words implied a deeper 
 meaning than they expressed, for she knew 
 grown-up people did not hunt butterflies. 
 
 But though Shelah's sympathies had been 
 quickly enlisted for the young man's trouble,, 
 whatever it might be, the childish nature soon 
 re-asserted itself, and once again she broke 
 loose from her nurse, giving way to peals of 
 laughter, as the rain came down faster and 
 more furiously. 
 
 * Is she the only child?' asked the young man 
 of the nurse, on her return from a victorious 
 chase after Shelah.
 
 A life's devotion. 23 
 
 * Yes, sir. Miss Sbelah is sole heiress of the 
 BalKna demesnes, here and in SHgo. May the 
 Blessed Virgin shield her from all harm. Oh ! 
 but 1 wish we were at home. It is well-nigh 
 a mile to the house. But, heaven be praised, 
 we're off the bog.' 
 
 A humorous expression had passed over 
 Hugh Carmichaers face at Bridget's proud 
 announcement that Shelah was an heiress, fur 
 he was well aware the Ballina estates, run- 
 ning over three counties, vast as they were, 
 were mortgaged to within a few hundreds of 
 their annual value, and thus the little heiress 
 was not likely to benefit materially from tlie 
 heritage handed down to her by a kingly line 
 of ancestors. Moreover, the entail on the 
 BalHna estates had been cut off during the life 
 of the late lord, and consequently they could be 
 sold, if found necessary, at any moment. 
 
 But further conversation on this subject was 
 arrested by the Httle party finding themselves 
 on the edge of a narrow road, or rather cause- 
 way, running straight through the bog, and 
 flanked on either side by a yawning, black ditch, 
 Avhich foreboded dire misfortune to the unAvary 
 traveller on a moonless nitrht. Over this ditch
 
 24 A life's devotiox. 
 
 Hugh Carmichael vaulted nimbly, holding the 
 little girl in his arms, while Bridget floundered 
 through the abyss as best she could. If the 
 young Englishman considered the scenery 
 through which he had passed in the morning 
 the dreariest he had ever seen, the road upon 
 which he now found himself surpassed all his 
 preconceived notions of what was dismal and 
 depressing in nature. 
 
 * What a God-forsaken country !' he murmured, 
 in a low voice. * How" has the gay society-loving 
 Dermot ever been able to exist here so content- 
 edly all these years ? The fact of his having noble, 
 peerless Helen to cheer his solitude can alone 
 be a satisfactory solution of wliat appears so 
 incomprehensible.' 
 
 But opinions as regard scenery, depending 
 as they do on early and familiar association, are 
 apt to differ. And, as Captain Carmichael thus 
 soliloquised, the child looked regretfully back 
 on the deserted bog over which she had been 
 60 gaily careering, and, kissing her hand towards 
 it, cried out, 
 
 * Good-bye, dear, beautiful bog. Good-night, 
 poor \Vill-o'-the- Wisps without souls.'
 
 A life's devotion. 25 
 
 After these words, either that she was tired, or 
 that she found less excitement in walking on the 
 monotonous, straight road than on the springy, 
 heather-clad bog, Shelah, of her own accord, 
 took Bridget's hand, and walked soberly and in 
 silence by her side and beneath the umbrella 
 she held. But as she nearcd home, where she 
 had witnessed so many sad scenes, it seemed as 
 though her joyous spirit became weighted with 
 melancholy thoughts, for, after a prolonged 
 silence, she whispered, 
 
 ' Don't let us go home through the village, 
 Bridget, but by the lake.' 
 
 ' It is longer that way ; but as you like, mo 
 jewel. And his lordship, when he sees the rain, 
 will send the carriage for us, I'm thinking.' 
 
 * She fears the sad sights in the town, sir,' ob- 
 served Bridget, in low tones, to Capt. Carmichael. 
 
 To her new acquaintance Shelah spoke but 
 once again, and then only as though she felt 
 bound to direct his attention as a stranger to 
 the more remarkable features of the landscape 
 lying on their route. Pointing to what appear- 
 ed to him a stack of turf standing a few yards 
 from the road, she said.
 
 26 A life's devotiox. 
 
 ' That is Mick's house. It is so pretty inside. 
 He has strings of different birds' eggs hanging 
 on the walls, and such a nice tame pig, which 
 knows me quite well. Mick is away fishing 
 now. But I will take you to see him to-morrow. 
 He is my greatest friend.' 
 
 A smile passed over the young man's face as 
 he gazed in astonishment and increduhty at 
 the wretched abode indicated by his ciceroney 
 which certainly appeared fitter to be a shelter 
 for pigs than a dwelling for human beings. But 
 he had an idea the child would resent any dis- 
 paraging remarks he might pass on this her 
 * greatest friend's' house, so he answered, 
 gravely, 
 
 ' I shall be very pleased to make the acquaint- 
 ance of your friend, and of the pig also. Indeed, 
 Mick seems so learned a man, such a profound 
 psychologist, that when you are queen you 
 ought to make him your prime minister.' 
 
 * He is very clever ; after papa, the cleverest 
 person I know. But,' she added, shyly, ' what 
 
 is psy — psy I can't say it. It is such a 
 
 long word. It must be very hard to spell ; and 
 I am only in three syllables.'
 
 A life's devotion. 27 
 
 ' It is indeed a long word,' he replied. * But 
 you are such a clever Httle girl to be already 
 in three syllables that, if I tr}^ to explain this 
 hard word, you will I am sure be enhghtenod. 
 Once upon a time there Avas a lovely little girl 
 called Psyche, who like you was so fond of 
 butterflies, she always carried one on her head. 
 The people who lived in those days said this 
 butterfly was an emblem of the immortal soul 
 and the eternity of love, for true love like our 
 souls, little Shelah, can never die. It must be on 
 this ancient story that Mick has built his pretty 
 romance about the Will-o'-the- Wisps and your 
 friend the butterflies, though where he gained 
 such knowledge puzzles me. I fear you are 
 not, after all, much wiser for my information, 
 Queen Shelah,' he concluded, with a smile at 
 ' the perplexed expression of the pretty face and 
 glorious eyes gazing up earnestly at him. 
 
 ' Oh, I understand a little bit,' she replied,, 
 with reflective truth. * And Mick knows every- 
 thing. I will ask him more about it.' 
 
 Shelah evidently considered Mick's learning 
 was more profound and more to be depended 
 upon than her new friend's.
 
 28 A life's deyotiox. 
 
 * I only wish he were here now,' she added, 
 plaintively, * for I'm so tired, and he would carry 
 me.' 
 
 ' Why, I can do that, sweet child, quite as well 
 as your learned friend Mick.' And, suiting the 
 action to the word, he caught her up in his 
 arms. 
 
 Enchanted at having so willing a earner, she 
 stroked his face with her small hand, saying, 
 
 ' You are very kind, Mr. Hugh. I'm sorry 
 you lost your butterfly, though I don't think it 
 was one like mine. Will you tell me about it? 
 I like stories.' 
 
 ' You are a cute little fairy,' he replied, kiss- 
 ing the innocent face so near his own. ' But 
 my story would not amuse you. Besides, it 
 ends badly.' 
 
 ' Oh, then I don't want to hear it,' she replied, 
 quickly, letting her head fall back on the young 
 man's shoulder. 
 
 Soon her eyelids drooped, and she fell fast 
 asleep. Though he carried both his gun and 
 game-bag, her slight weight in addition was 
 as nothing to Captain Carmichael, who was in 
 the fullest vigour of manly strength and health.
 
 A life's devotion. 2^ 
 
 Not strictly handsome, so clear and piercing- 
 was the glance of his keen grey eye, so firm 
 and reliable were the lines of his well-cut mouth, 
 so nobly reflective the expression of his face 
 when in repose, so beaming with intelligence 
 and quick sympathy with the feehngs and 
 thoughts of others when engaged in conver- 
 sation, that he never failed to inspire with both 
 respect and affection all who knew him. He 
 had a tall, commanding figure which displayed 
 unusual athletic power, and Bridget glanced 
 at him not only with gratitude but admiration, 
 as lost in profound meditation, and with Shelah 
 lying on his shoulder, he walked onwards with 
 long swinging steps, his head erect and well 
 thrown back, affording full play to the vigorous 
 lungs encased in his broad manly chest, where 
 beat a heart of gold which still pulsated 
 with as generous a Avarmth, as though it had 
 never experienced one of the bitterest pangs 
 it could have been called upon to endure — its 
 faithless betrayal by her it had trusted above 
 all others. 
 
 As Captain Carmichael, fearful of disturbing 
 Shelah's slumbers, pursues his way in silent
 
 30 A life's devotion. 
 
 thought, a few words can put the readers au 
 fait of his history up to this point. 
 
 Between him and one of Lord ^lelville's 
 daughters an engagement had been allowed 
 to exist for some time, only in consequence of 
 the young man being the supposed heir of a 
 millionaire uncle. This man, who was a miser 
 and a misanthrope, took apparently the deepest 
 interest in his nephew's welfare. Everybody 
 from this naturall}^ concluded that his future 
 Avas brilliantly secured. He himself laughingly 
 declared he would not take a million for his 
 certainty of succeeding to old Mr. Hardy's 
 fabulous wealth, while in his generous mind he 
 had formed all sorts of quixotic plans for em- 
 ploying that wealth for the benefit of others 
 Avhen he became its possessor. 
 
 Alas ! for the uncertainty of the most appar- 
 ent certainties in this life. * Old Hardy,' or ' Old 
 Skinflint,' as he was generally called, died sud- 
 denly, left five thousand pounds to Captain 
 Oarmichael, and, never having given a sixpence 
 in charity during his long and worthless life, 
 bequeathed the whole of his enormous wealth 
 to hospitals and almshouses, all of which were
 
 A life's devotiox. 31 
 
 to be associated with his own name ; thus en- 
 suring its undying memory in this world, and 
 compounding for the repose of his soul in 
 another. At least, such was his consoling 
 thought in death. 
 
 For a very short time, Hugh Carmichael was 
 completely overpowered by his disappointment, 
 a cruel and bitter one to him, but more deeply 
 felt, as it might possibl}^ include the loss of her 
 he loved, for he was well aware that upon his 
 succeeding to his uncle's riches depended Lord 
 Melville's consent to their marriage. Of her 
 love and faith he did not entertain the slightest 
 distrust. Such entire confidence made the 
 awakening more bitter. 
 
 Clasping her in his arms, he revealed his mis- 
 fortune to Miss Melville, and proposed in passion- 
 ate words of pleading that they should brave the 
 world together, urging that he could leave the 
 Guards, and exchange into a regiment quartered 
 in India, where they might live happily on a 
 small income, since he himself only cared for the 
 loss of riches on her account. Like ice her 
 answer dropped on his trustful heart. Cover- 
 ing her face with her himds, through which tears
 
 32 A life's devotion. 
 
 of mortification and worldly disappointment 
 more than of sorrow fell, she murmured, 
 That her father would never consent to such a 
 separation from his favourite daughter — that to 
 be parted from her own family, from the 
 country and society to which she was accus- 
 tomed ' would kill her.' And with angry bitter- 
 ness she added that Mr. Hardy was a wicked, 
 unprincipled old wretch, who she hoped was 
 reaping the fruits of his ill-deeds in another 
 world for having so deceived them both. 
 
 As Hugh Carmichael, in agonised astonish- 
 ment, listened to these words proceeding from a 
 cold, worldly heart, he bitterly recognised that 
 he had been worshipping at a false shrine ; but 
 he Avas a proud man, and finding that Lord 
 Melville's doors were henceforth closed against 
 him, that no relenting sign or word came from 
 Miss Melville, he went his way and made no 
 second pleading. Shortly afterwards she married 
 for wealth and rank, nor did he cull any con- 
 solation from that last letter, in which she 
 implored him still to remain her friend, vehement- 
 ly asserting — what was false — that she was 
 marrying by compulsion, and in accordance with
 
 A life's devotion. 33 
 
 her father's desire. At the same time she as- 
 sured him she could never love another as she 
 had loved him, and implored Hugh not to judge 
 her harshly. 
 
 Scornfully he tore this letter into atoms. It 
 pained him immeasurably to be forced to de- 
 spise the woman he had so passionately loved. 
 To the nobility of his mind there was positive 
 horror in the thought of what the future had in 
 store for one whose marriage vows had been 
 so falsely uttered, and he considered she was 
 committing the greatest sin a woman could 
 commit. 
 
 Disappointment and sorrow are, however, 
 powerless to embitter a noble nature. Secure 
 of a large fortune, happy in his love, with no 
 impetus for self- exertion, Captain Carmichel 
 had hitherto been but one of this world's triflers. 
 When his ch-eam of Jiappiness was so rudely 
 broken, he suddenly woke to clearer, higher 
 views of life's responsibilities. What he now 
 craved for was action — work for others. With 
 the enthusiasm of youth ho longed for war to 
 break out, for battle-fields whereon he miglit win 
 honour and fame. Ambition, but a noble one, 
 
 VOL. I. 1)
 
 34 A life's devotion. 
 
 had taken the place of a softer passion. Pend- 
 ing the contingency of war, which seemed a 
 very remote probability, he had undertaken to 
 help his friend, Lord Ballina, in abating some of 
 the misery in Ireland caused by the temble 
 famine of 1846 and '47. He had long been 
 weary of the round of London gaieties, and now 
 he realised that the chain which had so long 
 hound him to this futile and useless life had been 
 a worthless affection. 
 
 When we begin to dissect our past feelings 
 and passions it is a sure proof that their influence 
 is on the w^ane. Hugh Carmichael's love for 
 Mabel Melville was indeed dead ; but yet, as he 
 trudged through the rain with little Shelah re- 
 posing so trustfully on his shoulder, the remem- 
 brance of the past, when that love was fresh 
 and living, a part of his very soul, stole over him, 
 causing him to murmur sadly to himself, 
 
 'Poor Mabel, I wonder if she is happy. God 
 grant she may be.' He looked down on the 
 sleeping child as he thus reflected, and smiled 
 at her beauty. Her fair hair lay scattered over 
 his shoulder, while throug;h her parted, rosy 
 lips the breath came softly. ' What a lovely
 
 A life's devotion. 35 
 
 fairy she is !' he whispered. * A fit representa- 
 tion of Psyche. Ah I pretty one, I hope you 
 have not been sent into this world to vex men's 
 hearts ; but, Hke your beautiful mother, to be 
 the guardian angel of one happy individual.' 
 
 The sound of wheels in the distance roused 
 Captain Carmichael from his meditation reepect- 
 ing Shelah's future destiny, while Bridget ex- 
 claimed, joyfully, 
 
 ' Blessed be the holy saints ; here's the 
 -carriage for Miss Shelah.' 
 
 Looking in the direction where Bridget 
 pointed. Captain Carmichael perceived a small 
 vehicle on two wheels drawn by a rough pony, 
 and approaching at a smart pace. This con- 
 veyance — it could not be dignified by the name 
 of carriage — v/as an inside or covered car, and 
 though by no means either a luxurious or lordly 
 carriage, served its purpose equally well. 
 
 As soon as it halted, a remarkably handsome 
 man of splendid physique — for he was consider- 
 ably over six feet — ^jumped out, exclaiming, 
 
 ' In with you, Bridget. I fear Miss Shelah 
 must be wet through. But where on earth is 
 fihc V 
 
 d2
 
 36 A life's devotiox. 
 
 ' Papa, papa. I'm here, and quite diy. And 
 here is Mr. Hugh also — and he has brought the 
 money,' called out Shelah, all in a breath, from 
 beneath the umbrella, which had hitherto pre- 
 vented both her and Captain Carmichael from 
 being recognised by Lord BalHua, who now 
 exclaimed, 
 
 'Why, Hugh, my dear fellow, is it you? 
 Only seeing your legs, I took you for the game- 
 keeper. What a pleasure to see you once 
 again. You bring a whiff of civilization from 
 over the water, and a breath of consolation to 
 us starving barbarians ! But what has brought 
 you and_this elf into such strange juxtaposition?" 
 he asked, taking Shelah into his arras, and then 
 shaking hands with his friend. 
 
 ' I'll tell you, papa. Mr. Hugh took me out 
 of a bog-hole.' 
 
 ' So it appears, my darling, from the state of 
 your frock ; but we will hear all about your ad- 
 ventures later. You must get home at once, 
 for your mother is seriously anxious about you.' 
 
 The word ' mother ' seemed to have a magical 
 effect upon Shelah, for though burning with im- 
 patience to detail all her adventures to her
 
 A life's devotion. 37 
 
 father, she curbed the impetuous desire, and, 
 without another word, allowed Lord Ballina to 
 place her in the car; only putting out her 
 pretty head to say, 
 
 * Good-bye, Mr. Hugh. We shall have tea ready 
 for you when you arrive. I am so very much 
 obliged to you for carrying me. I hope you 
 won't be very tired.' 
 
 The young man laughingly kissed his hand 
 towards the child's beaming face, amused at the 
 idea that such a feather's-weight as hers could 
 be the slightest tax on his muscular powers of 
 endurance.
 
 38 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 As Lord Ballina's primitive and only carriage 
 was being driven rapidly away, much to the 
 discomfiture of Captain Carmichael's dog, wha 
 barked out his disappointment at the sudden 
 disappearance of his pleasant companion, he 
 turned to his friend and observed, with a 
 humorous smile, 
 
 ' My landau will not hold us all. But, as you 
 are already nearly wet through, a Kttle more 
 soaking can do you no harm. I am too true an 
 Irishman to heed our weeping climate.' 
 
 ' Your climate is decidedl}^ dampish, Dermot. 
 You are right ; I infinitely prefer walking, under 
 present circumstances, and, by so doing, I shall 
 have ample opportunity of admiring your native 
 scenery.' 
 
 ' Don't be sarcastic, Hugh. If the sun elects 
 to honour us to-morrow, vou will be forced to
 
 A life's devotion. 39 
 
 admit that there is somewhat in our scenery to 
 gratify even your fastidious English eyes.' 
 
 * CHmate and scenery seem equally to agree 
 with you, Dermot. Your appearance is enviably 
 fresh and robust, notwithstanding the troublous 
 times and grievous sights amongst which your 
 fate is at present cast.' 
 
 'These are indeed harassing times. If food 
 for the body is wanting, there is plenty for the 
 mind, and accompanied by such imperative 
 necessity for active work as tends to keep a 
 man from vegetating even in these wilds.' 
 
 ' Well, I have come to help in this work, and, 
 by so doing, to drive away selfish brooding over 
 the inevitable, until I go abroad w^ith my regi- 
 ment. For my exchange from the Guards is 
 effected. In six months I trust to be m India.' 
 
 ' Poor old Hugh. You have been shamefully 
 ill-treated.' 
 
 ' Stop that, Dermot. I like pity less than 
 most men. My wounds are healed, their scars 
 will soon be invisible. I have lost a fortune, 
 but I intend to make one, and a name also.' 
 
 * Bravely said. And find a new love into the 
 bargain, 1 trust.'
 
 40 A life's devotion. 
 
 * Or do without one. My profession is my 
 sole love now, and likely ever to remain so. 
 As to the loss of riches, looking as 1 do upon 
 this disappointment philosophically, it has its 
 use by demonstrating what is one's exact value 
 in this world's estimation, and'^vho are one's true 
 friends.' 
 
 'I only hope old Hardy is getting it hot in 
 the next world. And, as to the London world, 
 I would not give that for its friendships,' re- 
 plied Lord Ballina, snapping his fingers con- 
 temptuousl}^ in the air. ' Why, I believe all my 
 old chums except yourself have forgotten me 
 as completely as though 1 had no existence. 
 Would you credit that, the last time I was in 
 London, Caversham, who was my closest friend 
 in the Guards, when we met, extended me two 
 fingers, saying, languidly, " Hullo, old fellow, 
 alive still. I should have thought that exile in 
 that hole, Ireland, would have killed you long 
 ago.-' ' 
 
 ' Not a warm greeting, certainly. But you 
 forget you were his successful rival in Helen's 
 affections,' replied Captain Carmichael, smiling. 
 ' But indeed, Dermot, I require no compassion
 
 A life's devotion. 41 
 
 I breathe more freely than I have done for mauy 
 a long da}'. I have been a double slave, inas- 
 much as I was dependent on the caprices of a 
 hypocritical miser and a shallow, faithless- 
 hearted woman. I am now my own master. 
 But enough of self. What a sweet and lovely 
 child that is of yours, and so intelhgent and 
 original. She has already extended to me her 
 sympathy, and calls me "poor Mr. Hugh." ' 
 
 ' She is a peculiar child,' replied the father, in 
 a tone of deep tenderness. * Helen says I spoil 
 her; perhaps I do, but then there is always the 
 mother's judicious influence to counteract any 
 weak indulgence on ray part. But my excuse 
 for such indulgence is that Shelah was danger- 
 ously ill a short time back. We had allowed 
 her to mingle too much amongst our poor 
 starving tenantry, forgetful that a child so im- 
 pressionable and so young was unfit to bear the 
 strain of such terrible scenes as she witnessed 
 daily. But she always begged so earnestly to 
 be allowed to accompany her mother on her 
 errands of mercy, that Helen did not like to 
 prevent her following the promptings of her 
 soft little heart. Filially one day, after reading
 
 42 A life's devotion, 
 
 the Bible with her mother — desirous, as we 
 suppose, to literally fulfil its precepts — she stole 
 away with bare feet, carrying her little shoes 
 and stockings in her hand as a gift to a poor, 
 sick child of her own age. AVhen she an-ived 
 at the cabin where it dwelt the child was dead, 
 and so great was the shock to our darling that 
 she fell dangerously ill, and, since her recovery, 
 wij,lks in her sleep, and has to be closely 
 watched.' 
 
 * She is evidently an emotional and imagina- 
 tive child,' replied Captain Carmichael. ' I 
 don't take to children in general ; notwith- 
 standing, your Shelah has quite fascinated me.' 
 
 * So she does everyone. Yet for her own 
 happiness, even young as she is, she takes life 
 too seriously. Though indeed, latterly, there is 
 enough to make us all doubly serious ; for the 
 famine-fever, as they term it, has broken out in 
 the village, and we have to be more careful 
 than ever of our darhng ; for, as you know,* 
 added the father, pathetically, ' she is our only 
 one.' 
 
 As Lord Ballina spoke, the dark shadow of 
 some still unspoken fear passed over his usually
 
 A life's deyotiox. 43- 
 
 cheerful countenance. This was quickly observed 
 by his friend, who replied, sympathetically, 
 
 ' You are indeed right to be careful of your 
 charming* 8helah. But do your fears travel no 
 further? How about yourself and Helen T 
 
 Lord Ballina started painfully as he answered, 
 quickly, 
 
 * For myself I have never a thought. For her 
 I am in daily, hourly dread. Nothing deters 
 Helen from entering the most infected, famine- 
 stricken household. Where I go, she affirms, 
 she can follow.' Lord Ballina stopped ; then, 
 in a voice of quivering emotion, added : ' On her 
 account, Hugh, I suffer pangs of anxiety untold. 
 But I dare not assert my marital authority. I 
 dare not show my fear, for I know it is her 
 imshrinking courage, her noble example, com- 
 bined with the adoration with wliich she has 
 inspired the most affectionate and long-suffering 
 peasantry in the world, that has prevented them 
 from sinking into abject despair.' 
 
 As Lord BalHna ceased speaking, the two 
 friends were entering the plantation of firs 
 which his little daughter had already point- 
 ed out to Captain Carmichael, ami, by the
 
 44 A life's devotion. 
 
 gentle plash of waters breaking on a shingly 
 shore, he recognised he was near a lake. In a 
 few moments it opened out to indistinct view, 
 for the heavy falling rain obscured its more 
 distant outlines. 
 
 After following its shores for a short distance, 
 a sudden turn in the road brought them oppo- 
 site a pair of handsome gates, giving entrance 
 into Ballina Park : these being thrown open by 
 a very old woman, they ascended a gently- 
 rising approach, the ill-kept condition of which 
 testified to the impecuniosity of the unfortunate 
 possessor of the land. 
 
 After his last words Lord BaUina had become 
 silent, and was evidently plunged in painful 
 thought. By giving expression, for the first 
 time, to his conjugal fears, they had gained 
 renewed strength, for he loved -his wife with ail 
 the ardour and passion of an impetuous, warm 
 Irish nature ; and well she merited that love, 
 for hers, equally strong, had redeemed him from 
 a career of reckless, selfish indulgence that had 
 greatly contributed to impoverish the family 
 estate, already deeply encumbered by his 
 father's extravas-ant habits and fatal adherence
 
 A life's devotiox. 45 
 
 to an overwhelming passion for play. The old 
 lord had been, in fact, a confirmed gambler. Re- 
 markably handsome, sparkling over with Irish 
 humour, full of health and spirits, kindly and 
 generous, but Avcak of purpose, he had been 
 wholly swayed by those with w^hom he habitual- 
 ly associated. His son, Dermot Fitz-Maurice, had 
 inherited that fatal love of play which had ruined 
 his father. Happily, however, for him, when ho 
 was already past thirty and evil influences ap- 
 peared in the ascendant, he met Helen Car- 
 michael, a distant cousin of his friend. Captain 
 Carmichael, by whose mother, being an orphan, 
 she had been brought up and educated. 
 
 Penniless as she was, a drawback of which 
 Mr. Fitz-Maurico made no account, he fell madly 
 in love with this beautiful Helen, and overcom- 
 ing her unselfish scruples, and unheeding his 
 father's peevish remonstrances, — who, from his 
 enforced retreat abroad, urged upon his son the 
 necessity of his marrying a woman Avith money, — 
 he made her he loved his wife, thereby assuring 
 his own happiness and arresting his downward 
 course in life. 
 
 There were those who asserted that this
 
 46 A life's devotion. 
 
 loving pair were lacking in worldlj wisdom, 
 and would certainly rue their romantic folly ; 
 while Mr. Fitz-Maurice, the young man's uncle 
 and his father's agent, who had trusted to his 
 nephew retrieving the family fortunes by a 
 wealthy marriage, wrote him a letter, not of con- 
 gratulation but of condolence, on his having 
 metaphorically cut his own throat by his im- 
 prudent marriage. He soon had reason to ac- 
 knowledge his mistake ; for, however madly and 
 profusel}' a man may have scattered his wild 
 oats previous to marriage, if he has never been 
 guilty of any dishonouring or mean action, and 
 if he is gifted Avith a good heart and generous 
 disposition, his reformation is often secured if 
 lie marries a woman he not only loves, but who 
 •also inspires him Avith respect and chivalrous 
 admiration. 
 
 Easily influenced, when Mr. Fitz-Maurice 
 found himself wholly separated from baneful 
 ■companions and in a fresh atmosphere of purity 
 and domestic harmony, he yielded ready sub- 
 mission to the silken reins held by his lovely 
 Helen Avith so light a hand that he remained 
 unconscious that he Avas guided by her counsel
 
 A life's devotion. 47 
 
 in almost every action of his life. When al- 
 most immediately after his son's marriage Lord 
 BalHna died, unregretted, abroad, where lie was 
 living not too reputably, great was the delight 
 and astonishment of Mr. Fitz-Manrice, his 
 brother, when his successor expressed his in- 
 tention of residing permanently on his estate. 
 
 The old Lord BaUina had been an absentee all 
 bis life. But though, like angels' visits, his to his 
 native land were few and far between, they in 
 no way partook of the angelic character, and 
 were equally dreaded both by his kind-hearted 
 agent and his Avretched tenantry. Nor was this 
 to be wondered at, for Lord Ballina's visits were 
 simply actuated by an affectionate interest in his 
 exchequer, lie came to make perfectly sure that 
 Mr. Fitz-Maurice was placing the screw with 
 sufficient strength on his unfortunate tenantry, 
 and extracting from them the uttermost farthing 
 that could be obtained. 
 
 Satisfied of this fact, he bundled hurriedly 
 away in the dark hours of night, being in mortal 
 terror of the curtailment of his wicked old life 
 by some starving and evicted tenant. I'ut lie 
 was gathered to his forefathers now, uv rather
 
 48 A life's devotiox. 
 
 he was not so honoured, for his body lay in a 
 lonely grave in a distant land ; and Dermot, 
 the gay, generous, and well-intentioned, not only 
 reigned in his place, but with much enthusiasm 
 expressed his intention of reigning in person. 
 He fully believed he was himself the originator of 
 this wholesome intention, whereas it was due to 
 Helen's gentle persuasions and wise suggestions. 
 
 They were living in London where Lord 
 Ballina had a tiny bijou residence, but he Avas 
 wholly without occupation, and she prudently 
 reflected that an idle life, devoted lover as he still 
 was, might, if persisted in too long, prove danger- 
 ous to their future peace and happiness. There- 
 fore one morning when, after the prolonged 
 and ominous yawn of a completely unoccupied 
 spirit, Lord Ballina observed, lazily, ' I suppose I 
 ought to run over to Ireland and show myself to 
 the tenantry, only I don't like to leave you, 
 Helen ;' she replied, quietly, 
 
 ' Why should I not accompany you ? Why 
 should we spend the little money we have in a 
 country where we have neither duties nor re- 
 sponsibilities to fulfil? Why should we not 
 make Balhnaour permanent home ? Yes, 1 am
 
 A life's devotion. 49 
 
 dying to see Ireland,' she continued, as he stared 
 at her in astonishment and in total disbelief of 
 her being in earnest. ' I am sure I should like 
 the country, and, as to the Irish people, have I 
 not proved my appreciation of them in marrying 
 you?' she ended, with a smile. 
 
 ' Do you mean to say you would bury your- 
 self in Paddy's land ? Forsake London for my 
 sake, Helen.' 
 
 ' Most certainly, with you as the Paddy who 
 accompanies me,' she rephcd. « Like Eve, I can 
 say, 
 
 *' Thou to me all things art under heaven, 
 All places thou." ' 
 
 ' My Helen, had you been Eve, we should never 
 have been driven out of paradise,' he said, start- 
 ing out of his indolent, lounging attitude and 
 clasping her in his arms. 
 
 ' You never paid me a prettier compliment 
 before we were married,' she replied, gently 
 disengaging herself from his embrace ; and then, 
 wisely striking while the iron was hot, she added, 
 quickly, ' Then it is decided we take up our 
 residence at Ballina, of which wo shall make 
 another Paradise.' 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 A life's devotion. 
 
 Lord Ballina smiled dubiously; his recollec- 
 tions of his paternal home were anything but 
 exhilarating. Anything less like the Garden ot 
 Eden he could not well picture to himself. But 
 if, on her arrival, Helen's heart sank at the 
 comfortless aspect of her new home — a large and 
 handsome house, but from long neglect looking 
 cold and dreary — if for a few moments her 
 spirits drooped at the rushy, swampy state of 
 the beautiful, undulating park, at the glorious 
 but neglected timl^er and the hopeless condition 
 of the garden, prolific in naught but weeds — 
 and, above all, if she felt bitterly downcast and 
 sorrowful at sight of the miserable state of the 
 peasantry, and the squalid village that almost 
 touched the park gates, she allowed none of 
 these feelings of depression to be apparent 
 before her husband, but resolutely and at once 
 set to work to remedy sonic of those worst evils 
 surrounding her, evils mainly due to the absen- 
 teeism and selfish indulgence in their own pleas- 
 ures of past owners of the land. 
 
 In vain had Mr. Fitz-Maurice, Lord Ballina's 
 uncle, endeavoured to incite the tenantry into 
 some show of enthusiasm in honour of their
 
 A life's DEVOTION". 5l 
 
 lord's return home with his young bride. They 
 had been too long deserted and oppressed to 
 place any faith in the agent's prophecies that 
 better days were in store for them, and remained 
 sullen and impassive. Lord Ballina's newly- 
 formed good intentions for their welfare were 
 considerably cooled by this uncordial reception 
 of himself and his loved Helen. 
 
 A less courageous woman than she w^as would 
 have been equally chilled and discouraged. 
 Lady BalHna was neither. She had quickly 
 read the characters of those with whom she had 
 to deal, for her sjnnpathetic nature understood 
 and realised their past w^rongs and sufferings, 
 and she allowed that their present behaviour 
 had every excuse. Her efforts to effect a kindly 
 reformation where it was so much needed were 
 as unflagging as they were judicious. Nor 
 could she in the end fail to succeed, for she 
 worked from the purest and most disinterested 
 of motives — love of her fellow-creatures. 
 
 And it was not long before she reaped the re- 
 ward of such unselfish labours ; for when, at the 
 end of her first year's sojourn at Balhna, Shelah 
 was born, all those welcoming congratulations 
 
 E '> 
 
 UNIVERSITY or 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY
 
 52 A life's devotion. 
 
 which had been refused to the owners of the land 
 on their arrival were lavished upon them ^vith 
 double enthusiasm when this auspicious event 
 was made known. Bonfires were lit on every 
 hill, and when the lovely young mother drove 
 with her infant in her arms through the village, 
 it was beneath garlands and triumphal arches, 
 and to the sound of such cheering as Ivish lungs- 
 can alone give forth. 
 
 All this and a good deal more Lord Ballina 
 retailed to his friend as they walked by a short 
 cut across the now well-drained park, for Cap- 
 tain Carmichael, observing how Lord Balhna's 
 gaiety had flagged as he discussed the events- 
 of the painful present, had adroitly turned the 
 conversation into remoter channels. 
 
 ' And now that you have become, as it were, 
 rooted to your native soil, are you troubled with 
 no longings for past pleasures ? have you no de- 
 sire for a return of those old days of careless 
 ease when " you shone as the glass of fashion and 
 the mould of form " V inquired Hugh, Avhen his 
 friend's narration was concluded. 
 
 * I fear I have occasionally sighed for the 
 flesh-pots of Egypt. And, if it had not been
 
 A life's devotiox. 53 
 
 for Helen, I fear I should never have had 
 courage to face all the worries continually 
 •cropping up here. As long as there was a 
 little money coming in, euabhng us to carry on 
 improvements, there was some excitement in 
 life. But now all is stagnation, and this year 
 we have had no funds to make our usual trip 
 abroad. Even if we had, Helen could never 
 be persuaded to forsake these starving people. 
 Oh, what a woman she is ! Her perfections are 
 sufficient to atone for all the follies of her weaker 
 sisters.' 
 
 ' I have always looked upon Helen as the 
 most perfect woman I know ; to me, she stands 
 in the light of a sister.' 
 
 * I am aware of this. Your affection for and 
 confidence in each other is mutual. But I hope, 
 Hugh,' added Lord Ballina, with a twinkle in 
 his blue eyes, * that you will not betray my 
 faint-heartedness to her. The knowledge of my 
 worldly back-slidings would grieve Helen. J^ut 
 here we are, and there she is and Shelah also 
 welcoming us from the window.' 
 
 As Lord Ballina spoke, they were passing 
 beneath the drawing-room windows, and, glano-
 
 54 A life's DEVOTION'. 
 
 ing upwards, Hugh saw so fair a picture that it 
 was never effaced from his memory in after 
 years. 
 
 Leaning against the window-sill, with a bright 
 smile on her face, stood Lady Ballina, quaintly 
 dressed in an old-fashioned yellow brocade, the 
 bodice only sufficiently open to display her per- 
 fect throat. At the back it stood stiffly up in a 
 high collar, forming a charming frame-work for 
 her small head, round which her brown hair was 
 coiled in thick plaits, while in front it was 
 gathered back from her low, broad forehead in 
 pure, straight lines, displaying a countenance 
 which testified not only to intellectual power, 
 but to a soul reposing in that peace which 
 passeth all understanding. 
 
 At this moment her arms encircled her little 
 daughter, who was standing on a chair close 
 beside her mother, and peering out into the 
 twiHght, in anxious expectation of seeing the 
 pedestrians arrive, for the rain had ceased and 
 the outlook was brighter. 
 
 A loving mother's hand had combed the 
 child's fair hair out of its late disorder, and it 
 now fell in luxuriant curls down her pretty
 
 A life's devotion. 55 
 
 white shoulders, while her broad, blue sash and 
 embroidered frock showed that she was arrayed 
 in gala costume in honour of the coming guest. 
 There was no great likeness between mother and 
 daughter, though in the future Shelah promised 
 to be as lovely a woman as Lady Balhna. In 
 the present moment there Avas a restlessness in 
 the child's face, an eager excitability totally at 
 variance with the calm serenity of expression 
 reigning on the more matured countenance of 
 her mother. 
 
 There was a passionate intensity shining out 
 of Shelah's eyes auguring too surely that she 
 would in the future feel the joys and sorrows of 
 life equally strongly, and suffer accordingly. 
 She possessed something of her father's nerv- 
 ous mobility of character, combnied, young as 
 she was, with such a keen sense of right and 
 wrong, and so direct an appreciation of truth 
 and justice, that, however slight the punishment 
 she might receive, she accepted it calmly and 
 obediently when she felt it to be deserved. 
 
 Aware of this fact, and also of how fre- 
 quently sensitive, loving children are driven 
 into open or sullen rebellion when wrongfully
 
 5Q A life's devotion. 
 
 punished, Lady Ballina determined to educate 
 her daughter entirely herself ; and, though she 
 was now close upon eight years old, Shelah had 
 never been subjected to a severer rule than that 
 of a most loving and judicious mother. Happy ! 
 happy for the child had it been ordained that 
 this should ever be her fate. 
 
 Just as for the twentieth time Shelah asked 
 Lady Ballina if she thought ' Papa and poor Mr. 
 Hugh would ever come,' the two gentlemen 
 passed the window, and, kissing her hands ex- 
 citedly to them, she sprang from the chair, and 
 ran towards the door, to be in readiness to greet 
 their arrival. Her mother called her back, saying, 
 
 ' My darling, you must not call Cousin Hugh 
 " poor Mr. Hugh." ' 
 
 * Oh ! but he is,' rephed the child. ' I know 
 all about it. His story ended badly ; he told 
 me so himself,' she added, gravely. 
 
 * I hardly think his story is ended yet, Shelah,' 
 replied her mother, smihng. * Fortunately, we 
 can include many stories even in our short 
 lives. And I have no doubt Hugh, who so well 
 deserves it, will have a second, with a brighter 
 ending than his first.'
 
 A life's devotion. 57 
 
 * Mamma, have you had more stones than 
 one in your Hfe ? And did they all end well V 
 asked Shelah, coming close to her mother and 
 looking up earnestly into her face. 
 
 ' Shelah, my child, I never had but one story 
 in my life, and the whole of that story was a 
 bright and happy one ; and the end brighter 
 than all, for 1 married your father.' 
 
 ' And shall I have a story too, mamma V 
 
 * Everyone's life is more or less of a story, my 
 sweet little daughter.' 
 
 * And do you think mine will have a happy 
 ending like yours, or a bad ending like Mr. 
 Hugh's?' 
 
 * God forbid it should be the latter, my 
 Shelah,' exclaimed Lady Ballina, clasping the 
 child in her arms and covering her face with 
 kisses. 
 
 At the same moment the door opened, and 
 Lord Ballina and Captain Carmichael entered 
 the room. Bounding from her mother's arms, 
 Shelah flew to her father, to be caressed with 
 equal tenderness, while Lady Ballina came for- 
 ward to greet her cousin with a sister's em- 
 brace. As they held each other's hands, shii
 
 58 A life's devotiox. 
 
 looked into his eyes with a pilent, sympathising 
 glance. 
 
 ' Dear Helen, that sweet look of pity is un- 
 necessary. Men have died and worms have 
 eaten them ; but not for love. Beheve me, I 
 am heartwhole.'
 
 59 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 If Captain Carmichael had been charmed on 
 the evening of his arrival by the simple grace 
 and harmony of colouring which Lady Ballina's 
 drawing-room displayed, evincing what cul- 
 tured taste and a refined mind can effect, even 
 where money is lacking, he was equally grati- 
 fied when, on awakening the following morning 
 to peals of childish laughter re-echoing beneath 
 his window, he looked out on as fair a scene as 
 the eye could wish to dwell upon. 
 
 A terraced garden still brilliant in varied 
 colours, for as yet its flowers were but slightly 
 touched by autumn frosts, led down by a 
 double flight of stone steps to a lake of con- 
 siderable size, lying blue and motionless be- 
 neath the dancing sunlight and azure sky ; for 
 the chmate of Ireland is as variable in its moods 
 as the character of its inhabitants, and the
 
 '60 A life's devotion. 
 
 morning was as bright and cheering as the 
 afternoon had been gloomy and dispiriting. 
 
 Some very fine beech trees, their bronze and 
 golden foliage already giving token of the ap- 
 proaching autumn, overhung the lake, wherein 
 their gorgeous colouring Avas reflected. Nearer 
 a horse-chestnut flaunted its almost scarlet leaves 
 upwards in vivid contrast to the blue eky, while 
 amongst its still luxuriant foliage a robin, that 
 philosophical bird to whom all seasons seem alike, 
 warbled its gladsome salute to the briUiancy of 
 the opening day, in happy indiff'erence to a cer- 
 tain crispness in the air, evidence that summer 
 •was over and that morning frosts were aiding 
 to beautify woods and forests. 
 
 Though the banks of the lake rose but slight- 
 ly from the water's edge, they were thickly 
 wooded, and indented by the small bays and 
 promontories breaking its outline ; while numer- 
 ous were the islets reposing on its placid bosom, 
 so that the beholder of this smihng view could 
 not fail to be struck with admiration of a land- 
 scape that without boasting of any grandeur 
 was yet supremely soft and lovely. 
 
 One of the islands especially attracted Cap-
 
 A life's devotiox. 61 
 
 tain Carmichael's attention. Larger than the 
 others, it was rendered still more conspicuous 
 from its centre being occupied by an ancient, 
 ruined castle surrounded by a group of ilexes. 
 The two towers of this old and crumbling build- 
 ing were entirely mantled with ivy and crim- 
 soning Virginia creeper, and rose in unequal 
 height from amidst the more sombre foliage 
 surrounding them. 
 
 Observing that Lady Ballina was already in 
 the garden busily occupied amongst her flower- 
 beds, Captain Carmichael hastened his toilette, 
 in order to join her. Shelah, whose merry 
 laughter had helped to arouse him, was no- 
 where visible, but, a second peal of childish 
 mirth causing him to glance outwards, he 
 perceived what accounted for her merriment. 
 She was dancing with his dog, whose fore- 
 paws she tightly held. On his head she had 
 tied her hat, and about his neck was knotted a 
 blue handkerchief. Roiind and round she 
 valsed in the exuberance of childish delight,, 
 careless that her partner's pleasure was evi- 
 dently of a more modified nature. 
 
 Suddenly struck by some fresh idea, she re-
 
 62 A life's devotion. 
 
 leased the dog, and ran witli all speed down to 
 the lake; her play-mate, exulting in release, 
 bounded after her, barking with excitement at 
 the prospect of a possible swim in the tempting 
 Ballina waters. 
 
 But Shelah was intent on other and more 
 personal considerations. She had recognised 
 approaching in the distance her friend Mick's 
 boat, laden with the produce of his early fishing. 
 
 Even from his window Hugh could plainly 
 discern the silvery sheen of the fish lying in the 
 stern of the little boat. 
 
 Waving her. hands imperiously,, the child 
 beckoned the fisherman in shore : an order im- 
 mediately complied with. For a few seconds 
 an animated colloquy took place between them. 
 There was clearly a difference of opinion be- 
 tween the two, decided in Shelah's favour : for 
 in another moment. Captain Carmichael, to his 
 great astonishment, saw her, all hatless and 
 cloakless as she was, jump into the boat, and 
 taking possession of one of the oars, which she 
 evidently well knew how to handle, make for 
 the island which had so attracted his attention. 
 
 Dismayed at being so faithlessly deserted, the
 
 A life's devotion. 63 
 
 dog ran up aud down the bank for a few mo- 
 ments howling reproachfully, and then, plunging 
 into the water, swam gallantly after the boat, 
 still wearing Shelah's hat on his head. 
 
 ' My hat ! My hat I Look, Mick, look !' she 
 screamed, Avith a peal of laughter, caught up 
 from the island by an echo, so clear and oft 
 repeated, and Avhich, floating over the lake, 
 died away in the far distance with such soft 
 cadence, that it appeared as though the island 
 were inhabited by a hundred mocking fairies. 
 
 The scene was altogether so pretty and 
 idealistic, and yet contained so comical an 
 element that Hugh laughed with pure pleasure 
 at being a witness thereof. 
 
 Lady BaUina, who, with hands shading her 
 brow, was watching her daughter's movements, 
 heard him, and, looking up, called to her cousin 
 to join her. He quickly complied, exclainuDg, 
 as she came forward to meet him, 
 
 'Helen, I no longer wonder at your affection 
 for this place, though you are an Englishwoman/ 
 
 ' But my heart has loug been wholly Irisli, 
 Hugh. This is, emphatically, home, sweet home 
 to me, for it contains all that I hold dearest in
 
 64 A life's devotion. 
 
 life. I call this garden my haven of repose. It 
 contrasts, so sadly, with all the misery existing 
 in the village and its vicinity. But we make a 
 point of never discussing here those events 
 which so largely occupy our time and thoughts 
 outside its precincts.' 
 
 We shall follow Lady Ballina's example, and» 
 as this is not an Irish tale, assure our readers 
 that they will not be harrowed by any descrip- 
 tions of that terrible famine of years gone by, 
 except as, in its consequences, it so materially 
 affected the fortunes of our heroine. 
 
 'To-day I think you must devote yourself 
 to Dermot,^ continued Lady Ballina. ' And later 
 on, when my labours arc over, I will join you 
 on the lake.' 
 
 ' Your little daughter has already embarked, 
 I observe. You are a courageous mother to 
 trust her with an oar at her tender age.' 
 
 Lady BalHna smiled as she answered, 
 
 ' Shelah can swim like the wild ducks of the 
 lake, and then, unless she is with us, we never 
 trust her in a boat except with Mick, who saved 
 her life once, on these very waters, when in a 
 sudden squall our boat was upset.'
 
 A life's devotion. 65 
 
 * This accounts, I suppose, for their friendship T 
 
 ' Yes, and also for my determination to al- 
 low her all the freedom of a boy in outdoor 
 sports. Living on a lake, as we do, had I given 
 in to maternal fears, my life would have been 
 a daily torture, while she would have been 
 deprived of the chief enjoyment that she can 
 have here. It was a struggle to make up my 
 mind to do this. And I had a hard battle to 
 fight with Dermot. He perfectly adores our 
 child, and, I fear, spoils her not a little,' added 
 Lady Ballina, thoughtfully. 
 
 ' Which is of no consequence, my dear cousin, 
 for he tells me that your judicious influence 
 counteracts the effects of his spoiling.' 
 
 'But she may be deprived of that influence 
 one day.' 
 
 Captain Carmichael started, and looked an- 
 xiously in his cousin's face. 
 
 ' Oh ! don't look so alarmed,' she said, with a 
 placid smile. ' I am no sentimentalist, alluding 
 in mystic terms to my fancied early demise. But 
 everyone should be prepared for the uncertain 
 future, where those they love are concerned, 
 though this is a subject upon which I dare not 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 A life's devotion. 
 
 touch with Dermot. He shrinks from all allusion 
 to the possibihty of our ever being separated. 
 Death for me, he always maintains, means death 
 for him also. You know his character, so joyous, 
 80 careless always of the future. And then to 
 speak to him of my fears for Shelah's future if 
 I were not near her, looks as though I mistrusted 
 him. Ah, Hugh, I don't mistrust his loving, 
 generous heart. But the impulse of his excitable 
 nature, uuguided by sober judgment, this does 
 cause me anxiety. I feel as if I must open out 
 my heart to some one, and who fitter than you 
 to give me counsel? who more worthy to receive 
 my confidence V 
 
 * Dearest Helen, how can I aid you V 
 
 * Have you forgotten you are Shelah's god- 
 father r 
 
 * A relationship which means but little in these 
 days, beyond the gift of a very useless article of 
 plate, or a superfluous Bible.' 
 
 Helen smiled as she replied, 
 
 * But I wish you not only to dignify this 
 relationship, but also, in view of the uncertainty 
 of everything in this world, to be her guardian. 
 Will you promise me this? I have not the
 
 A life's devotion. 67 
 
 slightest doubt that Dermot would wish it also, 
 for he lias the greatest esteem as well as affectioQ 
 for you/ 
 
 'I will promise anything you wish, Helen. 
 But, thank God, as you and I are nearly of an 
 age, and Dermot but ten years our senior, 1 am 
 very unlikely to be called upon to fulfil this 
 office. Strange to say, I had quite forgotten I 
 had the honour of being Queen Shelah's god- 
 father.' 
 
 ' Now that you realise this fact, I hope you 
 will use all the influence such a relationship 
 affords you, and I consider it a very serious one, 
 for her welfare both in the present and here- 
 after. My child has all her father's excellent 
 qualities, his truthful, iaipulsive, and generous 
 nature. Yet from her quick sensibilities, her 
 keen affections, 1 sometimes fear that, unguided, 
 she may allow the dictates of her loving heart 
 to outweigh her more practical good sense ; dear 
 Dermot does so often. It seems like sacrilege to 
 discuss, even with you, the husband who is all 
 in all to me. But the very kindness of his 
 heart is a snare to Dermot. I know too well 
 he has long wearied of the monotony of life 
 
 f2
 
 68 A life's devotion. 
 
 which our lack of rents has lately entailed upon 
 us here, though for my sake he strives to over- 
 come this feeling. But I firmly and sadly 
 believe that if anything were to happen to me 
 he would leave this place at once. Poor little 
 Shelah, it would break her heart to be rudely 
 transplanted from her kingdom. As you seem 
 already to know, the people about here generally 
 call her Queen Shelah.' 
 
 Tears were in Lady Ballina's eyes as she 
 spoke. 
 
 ' Helen, Helen ! what is the meaning of your 
 talking like this? I am sure 3^ou are not welL 
 You go too much amongst these famine-stricken 
 people. Is it right for you as a mother and 
 wife to risk your invaluable life as you do V 
 
 'I run no risk. Nothing can be plainer than 
 my duty is here. Duty is a wholesome, if stern 
 guide, whose lamp lightens our path in life, 
 making every fresh step we take, however pain- 
 ful, easier to tread.' There was a beautiful light 
 in Lady BalHna's eyes as she continued, with 
 increased exaltation, * And yet, when we have 
 done this in truest faith, we must ever fall short 
 of our great Example. But self-sacrifice is the
 
 A life's devotion. 69 
 
 rule by Avhich He judges of our love for Him/ 
 
 ' Dear Helen, you silence me,' exclaimed 
 Captaiu Carmichael, taking her hand in his and 
 kissing it. 
 
 She smiled. 
 
 ' Silence means consent. But, indeed, you 
 need have no fear for me, dear Hugh, I am per- 
 fectly well. Perhaps latterly I have felt a little 
 languid and mentally weary. I am slightly dis- 
 pirited by the constant sight of the misery 
 around us. But your arrival, and the needful 
 supplies you bring, will cheer us all up. Hush ! 
 not a word at present to Dermot on the subject 
 we have been discussing. Here he is.' 
 
 Looking like some glorious Viking of old. 
 Lord Ballina approached, his golden curls and 
 wavy beard still glittering with diamond drops 
 from the lake, in which he had been disporting 
 himself, as was his custom every morning before 
 breakfast. 
 
 * What plot of dire blackness are you two 
 hatching?' he inquired, merrily. * You have 
 both the guilty look of conspirators. I liave no 
 doubt you have been discussing my many short- 
 comings. Don't look alarmed, I shan't inquire.
 
 70 A life's devotion. 
 
 My confidence in you is unshakable. But, 
 Hugh, you have brought your lazy Loudon 
 habits with you. You ought to have been in 
 the lake long ago.' 
 
 * You will quickly find me a reformed char- 
 acter. With such a lovely scene as this to re- 
 joice in, it would be a crime to stay in bed.' 
 
 * I suppose it is very beautiful to a fresh eye. 
 But one may get slightly satiated even with a 
 lovely view ;' and, as Lady Ballina stooped to 
 pick up her flower-basket he added, sotto voce, 
 * I confess 1 feel so occasionally, and long for 
 the sound of cab and omnibus rattling over 
 London stones.' 
 
 Helen had overheard this remark, and, look- 
 ing up with deepening colour,, observed softly, 
 
 * It is only occasionally, very occasionally, that 
 these longings seize him, Hugh.' Then twining- 
 her arm in her husband's, she urged them to- 
 come at once to breakfast, observing, ' We are 
 late this morning, and I have much work before 
 me. You, Dermot, must have a whole holiday 
 and devote yourself to amusing Hugh.' 
 
 As they walked towards the house, Captaia
 
 A life's devotion. 71 
 
 Carmichael thought he had never seen a hand- 
 somer couple, but, though in outward bearing 
 they were so admirably matched, he well knew 
 how in loftiness of soul and mind Helen towered 
 above her husband. 
 
 * Good heavens !' he mentally ejaculated, 
 ' what would he be without her? What sort of 
 a guide would he be for that sensitive impres- 
 sionable child 1 But w^hy dwell on so painful an 
 idea ? Helen has a splendid constitution. She 
 simply wants a change, and has been too ex- 
 clusively chained to the oar of duty.' 
 
 Lord Ballina's joyous laugh startled Hugh out 
 of what was becoming a painful reverie. She- 
 lah was the subject of conversation. Lady 
 Balhna had inquired of her husband if he had 
 seen their little daughter that morning. 
 
 *I heard the darling, but did not see her. 
 She Avas on the Banshee's island, which seemed 
 in reahty to be peopled with those mj'sterious 
 beings, so merrily did it re-echo with her laughter. 
 You don't know, perhaps, Hugh, that our princely 
 race ig honoured by having a ghostly appendage 
 attached to it in the shape of a hideous old
 
 72 A life's devotion. 
 
 woman. We boast, in fact, of owninpj a family 
 Banshee, who is supposed to reside on yonder 
 island.' 
 
 'It makes your entourage perfect. I hope I 
 shall see or hear the old lady,' replied his 
 friend. 
 
 ' I hope you won't do anything of the kind, 
 my dear fellow, for her cry heard three times 
 forebodes certain death to the heads of our 
 house. I mean, of course, to the male head,' he 
 added, quickly. 
 
 ' Just as much to me as to yon, dearest,' 
 observed Lady BaUina, with an incredulous 
 laugh. 
 
 * Nothing of the kind,' answered her hus- 
 band, sharply. * Women don't count in these 
 traditions. Not, of course, that 1 attach the 
 slightest importance to such rubbish.' 
 
 Even though Lord Ballina thus slightingly 
 alluded to the tradition which he affected to 
 despise, there was something in his manner 
 which betrayed it had weight with him. But 
 he continued, lightly, 
 
 * I have never heard or seen the lady myself, 
 though I was here when my grandfather died.
 
 A life's devotion. 73 
 
 Upon which occasion, however, ^lick declares 
 she made night hideous with her unearthly 
 equalling. It was also asserted that she made 
 herself heard when my father died. Clever of 
 her to know anything about this event, inas- 
 much as his death took place in Italy.' 
 
 ' Do you believe in this evil prophetess, Helen V 
 inquired her cousin, a little eagerly. 
 
 * You know I have no superstitions, Hugh. 
 But I respect those of others, and I find it im- 
 possible to eradicate the belief of the peasantry 
 in this long-credited family tradition. Moreover, 
 the belief in the Banshee is very general in Ire- 
 land. Though all these mysterious cries are 
 easily to be accounted for by the wonderful 
 echo proceeding from the old castle on the 
 island. Hark ! Listen to that dirge-like cry 
 now,' she exclaimed. 
 
 Both Lord Ballina and Hugh started as a wail 
 loud and clear rose from the island and swept 
 across the lake, dying away in saddest moan- 
 ing on the opposite shore. Lord Ballina changed 
 colour, as they all three simultaneously remained 
 still and in complete silence listened to this 
 weird cry. Before it had quite died away, he
 
 74 A life's devotion. 
 
 stamped his foot impatiently on the ground, 
 saying, 
 
 ' Pshaw ! It is some one hailing the ferry- 
 boat from the other side of the lake. Let us 
 hasten in to breakfast.' 
 
 *I hope Shelah has not heard it,' observed 
 Lady Ballina, anxiously. ' The family legend 
 has taken a terrible hold of her little mind 
 lately, and she has awoke more than once in the 
 night calling out that the Banshee was scream- 
 ing outside her window.' 
 
 'A nightmare, of course,' observed Lord 
 Ballina, hastily. ' Mick and Bridget have been 
 filling the child's head with ghostly yarns which 
 must be put a stop to.' 
 
 They were entering the house by the garden 
 door as he spoke, and at the same moment 
 Bridget came out with a scared and v/hite face. 
 
 *Did you hear it, my lord?' she said, in a 
 whisper, as he passed. ' Ay, and Miss Shelah 
 heard it too last night. But it must be three 
 times — three times. May the Blessed Vargiu 
 strike her dumb ere that.^ 
 
 * Hold your idiotic tongue !' angrily responded 
 Lord Ballina. * It is time Miss Shelah came
 
 A life's devotion. 75 
 
 home. You leave her too long by herself, 
 Bridget.' 
 
 The woman looked up with tears of reproach 
 in her eyes as she repeated, 
 
 * Leave her too long ! Och, och, my lord, 
 that's a bad saying. Is it me who would give 
 my heart's blood for her — that thinks of her 
 night and day — that has nursed her in sickness 
 and health ' 
 
 ' Well, well, I know all that, my good Bridget. 
 Only for heaven^s sake don't maunder anymore 
 about that cursed Banshee. Go down to the 
 lake, row yourself across to the island, and 
 bring Miss Shelah back.' 
 
 ' Bring Miss Shelah back ! When once she 
 gets to that blessed island, what with the 
 dragons and the sharks, and Mick's palaver, it's 
 nothing but the saints above that will get her 
 back.' 
 
 * You must assert your authority,' said Lord 
 Ballina, laughing at the astonishment displayed 
 on Captain Carmichael's face at Bridget^s mar- 
 vellous announcement of dragons and shark.s 
 existing on the island. 
 
 These, he had to explain, were dragon-flies
 
 76 A life's devotion. 
 
 and pike, one side of the island being a famous 
 epot for catching these fresh-water sharks, while 
 bright-winged dragon-flies sported and flitted 
 about in numbers close to the water's edge. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Bridget was walking slowly 
 and reflectively down to the lake. A deep look 
 of pain rested on her honest face as she kept 
 muttering, 
 
 * Tbree times — three times it must be. Oh I 
 Holy Mary, keep her silent. Keep the trouble 
 •away from me darling now and ever I' 
 
 She looked up as she uttered this devout 
 prayer, and saw the boat containing her charge 
 leisurely returning. 
 
 ' My authority !' she jerked out, humorously. 
 *It is the whip hand of me she has, and the 
 darling knows it. And it's that villain Mick, 
 bad liick to him, that encourages her.'
 
 77 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 During breakfast Captain Carmichael's gloomy 
 forebodings were completely laid aside. The 
 pallor of Lady Ballina's cheek had given place 
 to a fine colour, and she appeared in briUiant 
 spirits. If these were forced, the subterfuge 
 was so ably carried out that neither his warm 
 friendship nor her husband's deeper love pierced 
 through that veil of assumed gaiety by w^hich 
 she so frequently strove to conceal her occa- 
 sional fits of depression or her graver thoughts. 
 Lord Ballina, on the contrary, was silent, and 
 evidently dejected. The fact was, though he 
 would never acknowledge it, the family legend 
 worried and disturbed him. If he had no deep 
 behef in the existence of the Banshee, he, never- 
 theless, disliked and shrank from any allusion 
 to this topic. Everyone on his estate believed 
 more or less firmly in the family tradition, which
 
 78 A life's devotion. 
 
 bad existed long before the new house had been 
 built by his great-grandfather, indeed from time 
 immemorial. To ignore it was impossible ; but 
 he preferred it never being made a matter of dis- 
 cussion in his presence. 
 
 His reprobate father had a still greater dis- 
 like to it being ever alluded to, though he pro- 
 fessed the most profound contempt for what he 
 termed a childish legend. But he had a horror 
 of the word death being mentioned in his pre- 
 sence, and the childish fable was too closely 
 connected with the dreaded word for him to 
 find it a palatable subject of discussion. 
 
 Having failed to observe how that weird cry, 
 just heard, had disturbed his host, and aware 
 that Helen was wholly devoid of superstition, 
 Hugh, who took considerable interest in tracing 
 out the origin of ghost stones and family legends, 
 observed, as he rose to get a second cup of tea 
 from his hostess. 
 
 ' I have often heard of your Irish Banshees, 
 Helen, but never anticipated making so close an 
 acquaintance with one of these mysterious beings 
 as I have done to-day. And her existence so 
 greatly enhances the romance of this place, that
 
 A life's DEVOTIOy. 79 
 
 I trust the prevailing distress will not induce her 
 to emigrate, Hke so many of the other inhabit- 
 ants of this unfortunate isle.' 
 
 ' 1 wish to heaven she would,' exclaimed Lord 
 Ballina, hastily, looking up from the letter he 
 was reading. ' It would put an end to a deal of 
 superstitious rubbish. Why, I can't get a human 
 being to go on the island after dark, and nothing 
 would induce Shelah to visit it alone.' 
 
 * Poachers are not disinclined, I fancy, to roam 
 there at night,' observed Lady Ballina, smiling. 
 
 ' You are evidently a complete unbeliever, 
 Helen,' observed her cousin. * Have you ever 
 been on the island yourself during the witching 
 hours of darkness V 
 
 ' I have, which is quite sufficient,' replied Lord 
 Ballina, in a vexed tone. 
 
 * Well, and what happened ? Did you see 
 her T asked Hugh, in a mocking voice of awe. 
 
 * Pshaw I' peevishly responded his host. ' As 
 I landed, a boat put hastily off from the opposite 
 side of the island; I distinctly heard the rustling 
 sound made by the keel as it was being pro- 
 pelled through the reeds and rushes, while the 
 sleeping wild duck, alarmed by the noise, rose
 
 80 A life's devotion. 
 
 €Ji masse. 1 ran round as fast as legs could carry 
 me towards the spot, but unfortunately stumbled, 
 and fell, spraining my foot, and thus the rascals 
 had time to escape. I have been there often 
 again at night, but I have neither seen nor heard 
 anything.' 
 
 ' But I have been frequently aAvoke at night 
 by the firing of a gun from the island,' observed 
 Lady Ballina, slily. * It is strange, however, 
 that to-day is the first time since I have been 
 here that I have heard the echo from the island 
 vibrating so wonderfully clearly through the 
 air.' 
 
 ' Unbelieving woman !' exclaimed Hugh. ' You 
 entirely destroy my romance by assuming that 
 that Aveird cry was nothing more than the echo 
 of some vulgar human voice.' 
 
 ' Of course it Avas nothing more,' she answer- 
 ed, cheerfully, as she rose from the table. Pass- 
 ing behind him, she Avhispered : * Pray assume 
 the same, and allude no more to this subject in 
 Dermot's presence. It has the power of greatly 
 disturbing him.' 
 
 Lady Ballina moved to the window, and Hugh 
 followed her, replying,
 
 A life's devotion. 81 
 
 * I shall do as you desire, but surely it would 
 be better to laugh Dermot out of a superstition 
 in which he can have no sound belief/ 
 
 ' We may ridicule the very superstitions that, 
 notwithstanding, have an unacknowledged but 
 powerful influence over us. It is one of those 
 questions about which it is impossible to argue/ 
 replied Lady Ballina, who was gazing out of the 
 window in anxious expectation of seeing her 
 child's return. 
 
 She longed to ascertain if she had heard the 
 cry which had startled, without alarming, her- 
 self; for, though physically courageous, Shelab 
 was deepl}' imbued with belief in the legend, and 
 her mother had been wholly unable to shake the 
 child's rooted belief in and fear of the ill-omened 
 .prophetess supposed to be linked to their house. 
 
 In the past she had listened by the hour, with 
 wild, startled eyes and in breathless attention, 
 to Mick's gruesome tales of all the sorrow the 
 Banshee's dreaded cry had ever entailed on her 
 ancestors, and when at last Lady Ballina had 
 discovered what a tenacious hold these legends 
 had over her little daughter's mind, accounting 
 for her disturbed sleep, and, at times, sad coun- 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 A life's devotion. 
 
 teuance, she sternly forbade their repetition. 
 But it was too late to annul the mischief already 
 accomplished, and Lady Ballina could only trust 
 that advancing years and increased wisdom 
 would weaken the evil impression made. 
 
 Lftdy Ballina would never have allowed her 
 child to run wild as she had done, and still did, 
 had it not been for the doctor's grave assur- 
 ance that, in order to counteract the effect of 
 her nervous and over-sensitive organisation, and 
 to give her that mental and physical vigour so 
 necessary to ensure her welfare in after life, it 
 was imperative she should be allowed the 
 freedom and out-door existence of the birds and 
 animals in whose companionship she took such 
 keen delight, and with whose habits she had 
 become perfectly acquainted. 
 
 The sight of the first butterfly was an intense 
 joy to Shelah, but, though she loved to chase 
 them, the thought of depriving them of life in 
 order to have a collection to display to others was 
 one from Avhich she revolted; and she had shed 
 tears of passionate sorrow at sight of a box where- 
 in some of her bright friends were impaled and
 
 A life's devotion. 83 
 
 ticketed, and refused ever again to return to a 
 house where such slaughter had taken place. 
 
 As to the birds, she could distinguish the note 
 of each separate songster, and would often, with 
 the agility of a squirrel, climb up the branches 
 of a tree, and, nestling among the leaves, 
 whistle in such perfect imitation of thrush or 
 blackbird that the most learned naturalist would 
 be taken in. And how enchanted Shelah would 
 be when this was the case, especially if it were 
 her mother she thus deceived, but even more so 
 if it were her father ! 
 
 As Lady Ballina continued to gaze out of the 
 window with an anxiety she could not conceal, 
 Hugh observed, gently, 
 
 ' You seem disquieted, dear Helen, yourself. 
 "Why, if you are so nervous at your little daugh- 
 ter beiug on the water, do you permit her to go 
 off alone?' 
 
 ' She is qnite safe with Mick, and in giving 
 her perfect liberty and showing no fear myself, I 
 believe I am acting best for her happiness. 
 Though,' added Lady Ballina, thoughtfully, ' I 
 sometimes have misgivings whether a little 
 
 G 2
 
 84 A life's devotiox. 
 
 stricter rule may not soon be necessary for my 
 darling. Ah, there she is returning,' she ex- 
 claimed, as she caught sight of the boat con- 
 taining her heart's treasure, gliding swiftly over 
 the water, impelled by Mick's strong arm. 
 
 Bridget was standing on the little pier ready, 
 in accordance with Lord Ballina's suggestion, 
 to assert her authority as soon as her young mis- 
 tress landed. But no sooner had the boat touched 
 the shore than the child sprang out, and, eluding 
 her nurse's grasp, dashed impetuously by her and 
 bounded up the steps towards the house. Lady 
 Ballina hastened out to meet her, followed by 
 Hugh. Mick, a strongly-built, middle-aged 
 man, with a shock of dark, auburn hair, turning 
 grey, shrewd and rather cunning blue eyes, and 
 a comical, yet sensible countenance, stood up in 
 the boat and watched the flying Httle figure 
 with a sad and anxious gaze, while the dog, 
 who no longer bore Shelah's hat but had con- 
 signed it to the lake, rushed wildly after her, 
 deeming she was all for play, whereas Shelah's 
 heart was bursting with grief and terror. 
 
 * If you could see yerself, it's a mighty good 
 likeness to an owl blinkin* at the sun ye'd see ;
 
 A life's devotion. 85 
 
 what are you gaping at, Mick?' said Bridget, 
 with angry scorn. ' It's my pardon you ought 
 to be asking for carrj^ing off the young mistress 
 without hat or cloak this fresh morning, and 
 fining her head with yer bothering tales.' 
 
 The fisherman made no reply, but began 
 slowly to fasten up the boat and to remove his 
 basket, containing some splendid spotted trout, 
 on to the grass, previous to carrying them up 
 to the house. 
 
 ' Is it dumb ye are V indignantly demanded 
 Bridget. 
 
 ' I wish the silence of the grave had been me 
 portion before I throubled the Queen's young 
 heart with me stories,' said Mick, unmindful of 
 Bridget's anger, and with his eyes still fixed on 
 Shelah's retreating figure. 
 
 ' It's late to repent whin the evil's done. But 
 did ye give ear to the cry, Mick V asked Brid- 
 get, anxiety and curiosity overpowering, for the 
 moment, her fierce jealousy of the fisherman's 
 affection for their little mistress. 
 
 ' Troth, and I did. Bad cess to her throuble- 
 some voice. She's like all women, and never 
 knows the right minit to hould her tongue. I
 
 86 
 
 Tvish mine had been cut out before 1 tould the 
 Queen onything about the ugly ould witch.' 
 
 *Be aisy, Mick. It's best to keep a civil 
 tongue where she's concarned. But did the 
 Queen hear her V 
 
 ' Begorra, and she did, and turn'd as white as 
 yer bonnet sthrings, except that the'r a bit yal- 
 low and dirt}^ Bridget.' 
 
 ' The'r a deal cleaner than yer ugly face any- 
 how,' tartly rejoined Bridget. 
 
 But they were both too absorbed and interested 
 in the main subject of discussion to pursue the 
 personal quarrel, which Bridget's jealous love of 
 Shelah invariably caused to wage between 
 them whenever they came in contact, and as she 
 observed the fisherman making preparations for 
 departure, she said, quickly, 
 
 ' But, Mick, 'tis only the second time she's 
 yelled out. It may be years, praised be the 
 saints, before we hear her again. Do you give 
 heed, man, to what I'm saying?' 
 
 * It may be for years and it may be for ever, 
 than why art thou silent, oh, Kathleen mavour- 
 neen V sang out Mick, shouldering his basket of 
 fish, while with a twinkle in his eye, and pro-
 
 A life's devotion. 87 
 
 yoking irony, he added, ' I lay me life, Kath- 
 leen was not long silent. What woman ever 
 was, Mrs. Bridget?' 
 
 ' It's no more manners than yer own fish ye 
 have, Mick,' replied Bridget, who was now in a 
 towering rage. ' Poor soulless animals. But 
 may be it's a soul yer wanting yerself.' 
 
 * Yer right for once, Bridget. Ther's divil a 
 sowl in the basket. The'r all beautifully 
 speckled trout,' he replied, laughing. 
 
 But Bridget having fired oft' her most power- 
 ful gun, and knowing she was no match for 
 Mick in a Avar of words, had beat a retreat, 
 and so his repartee was lost upon the adversary. 
 
 ' No use argufying with a woman,' he reflected, 
 contemptuously ; but he suddenly became grave, 
 as he muttered, ' But she's wrong, the third 
 time is niver long in coming, it was so with 
 the ould lord, and the ould lord's father. Och ! 
 but there's sorrow in store for the Queen. And 
 ain't the sperits about ? and the fiery signs in 
 the heavens above V 
 
 Mick was here alluding to the Aurora Borealis 
 80 seldom seen in all its glory in our latitudes, 
 but which had been lighthig up the sky in rosy
 
 88 A life's devotion. 
 
 splendour for several successive nights, portend- 
 ing, as all the servants in the house as well as the 
 peasantry believed, some dire disaster to the 
 Ballina family. 
 
 As Mick, strong in superstitious fears, reached 
 the back entrance to the house, Shelah ^arrived 
 at the top of the garden steps ; here she remained 
 motionless, with her hand pressed to her panting 
 little heart. With wonderful self-command for 
 so young a child, she was striving to assume 
 a calm demeanour, but her face was colourless, 
 and her dark eyes painfully distended. She 
 was suffering acutely, for she had distinctly 
 heard the dreaded cry, and so had Mick, into 
 whose arms she had fled for comfort, hiding her 
 face in his ragged jacket. Vainly he had en- 
 deavoured to , persuade her that it was simply 
 the echo raised from the opposite shore ; his 
 words carried no conviction Avitli them, for she 
 saw alarm written on his own face, and she well 
 knew his belief that the Banshee's cry prophesied 
 evil to her family equalled her own. But her 
 mother treated the whole legend with scorn and 
 disbelief, and would gently laugh at Shelah's 
 fears, while her father would be angry with her
 
 A life's devotion. 89 
 
 for mentioning them. He had been so once be- 
 fore, the only time she had ever experienced a 
 cross word from him. 
 
 Poor Shelah ! her heart was bursting with re- 
 strained grief as powerful as so precocious and 
 sensitive a nature as hers could be called upon 
 to experience. She could not have told whether 
 she loved her gay, handsome father, or her 
 tender, beautiful mother, most, but she did know 
 that neither she nor her father could do without 
 ' Mamma.' 
 
 Large tears were slowly welling into her 
 eyes as, astonished at her immobility, Lady 
 Ballina, accompanied by Hugh, drew near this 
 little statue of voiceless despair. As her mother 
 stooped, and put her arms round the child, 
 Shelah, unable to control her grief any longer, 
 bid her face in Lady Ballina's gown, and burst 
 into an agony of weeping, the cause of which 
 the mother at once divined, and said, in loving 
 reproof, 
 
 * j\Iy darling, is this the way to greet your 
 new friend ? You have overtired yourself. There, 
 there, look up, here is Cousin Hugh waiting to 
 say good-morning to you.
 
 90 A life's devotion. 
 
 In a tone of deep vexation, she whispered to 
 him, 
 
 ' You seethe effects of this stupid superstition.j 
 
 Looking kindly down on the weeping child, 
 Captain Carmichael observed, cheerily, 
 
 ' Why, Queen Shelah, I am afraid you are 
 faithless. We were the best of friends Avhen 
 we parted last night, and now you will not 
 even glance towards me. And are you aware 
 that I am your godfather, and have to answer 
 for your misdoings, little one?' 
 
 He placed his hand on her head as he spoke. 
 Feeling that kindly touch, she was induced 
 to look up timidly through her tears, and, meet- 
 ing his encouraging smile, a sudden resolution 
 seized her. She would confide her trouble to 
 him who had been so kind to her in her disasters 
 the previous day. Perhaps he could comfort 
 her even now ; and, with a brave self-command 
 she held out her hand, saying, with pretty 
 civility, 
 
 * I hope you slept well. Captain Hugh. Your 
 dog has been out with me. Would you like to 
 walk in the garden V 
 
 There was a sob in her voice as she spoke ;
 
 A life's devotion. 91 
 
 but Shelali felt secure : she had found the friend 
 she required, and was to a certain extent com- 
 forted. And, as her mother gave her an en- 
 couraging smile, she slipped her hand confidingly 
 into his, and together the young man and the 
 child wandered down into the garden. 
 
 Lady Balhna watched them for some minutes. 
 Now that she was no longer on her guard 
 against observation, it was visible from tlie 
 gravity of her countenance that some secret 
 anxiety weighed heavily on her mind, for, as 
 she slowly turned back towards the house, she 
 murmured, sadly, 
 
 * Yes, it is well to have awakened a fresh 
 interest in Hugh's heart; and my darling has 
 so evidently taken a fancy to him that, if 
 •fostered, such an alliance may prove of immense 
 advantage to both.' 
 
 On entering her sitting-room, Lady Balhna 
 sank wearily into a chair, and, passing her hand 
 distressfully over her smooth, white forehead^ 
 said, aloud, 
 
 'How strangely weary and laden my brain 
 feels ! I feel so disinclined to exert myself I 
 must be growing lazy. But I must not give in
 
 ^2 A life's devotion. 
 
 to vaporous imaginations. " For the night 
 <;ometh when no man can work." ' 
 
 She rose as she thus sohloquised, and began 
 to prepare for her usual routine of labour ; but 
 started nervously as the door opened, and Lord 
 Ballina hurriedly entered. His manner and 
 face expressed considerable perturbation as he 
 said, 
 
 'Helen, you must not go near the Brians' 
 cabin. The children are all down with typhus 
 fever and ulcerated throats. The doctor has 
 just been here, and says the fever is taking the 
 most virulent form, and is terribly infectious.' 
 
 As her husband thus addressed her, Lady 
 Ballina turned her head quickly away from 
 him and moved towards the window. He was, 
 therefore, unable to see the sudden rush of blood 
 mounting into her fair foce, giving place to as 
 deadly a pallor. But, as she did not reply, he 
 continued, imploringly, 
 
 'Promise me, dearest, that no overstrained 
 clinging to duty will induce you to go near 
 them. I shall see they get everything they 
 require.' 
 
 He was close to her now, and, laying his
 
 A life's devotion. 93 
 
 hand on her shoulder, strove to turn her face 
 towards him. There was a moment of breath- 
 less silence, and then, in a strangely quiet voice, 
 she replied, Avith her eyes still averted from his 
 searching scrutiny, 
 
 * I should be acting wrongly by our child, by 
 you, to place myself in the way of known 
 danger when 1 can be of no use. Send to 
 Father Carey ; he will see that the poor Brians 
 want for nothing. And I will desire our village 
 nurse to devote herself more exclusively to 
 these pcfor sufferers.' 
 
 * My sweet Helen, your compliance with my 
 wishes has relieved me from deadly anxiety. I 
 feared, from your usual disregard of personal 
 danger, your stern sense of duty, you might 
 be induced to resist my mandate.' 
 
 * To do so now would involve both your life 
 and Shelah's. And when have I ever resisted 
 your mandates'?' she exclaimed, suddenly turn- 
 ing and throwing her arms round his neck with 
 an almost convulsive grasp. 
 
 'Never, never,' he replied, kissing her passion- 
 ately, for time and the closest communion of 
 thought and word had only increased Lord
 
 ■94 A life's devotion. 
 
 Ballina's deep love for his wife. * Oh ! Helen/ 
 he continued, as her head still lay in loving 
 confidence on his breast, ' what would life be to 
 me without you ? A dark and endless blank. 
 And what would become of Shelah ? Whither 
 could I turn for counsel in difficulty, for comfort 
 in sorrow V 
 
 ' Dearest, you must not make an idol of an 
 earthly love, for such idols may be shattered 
 into dust at a moment's notice. But even if 
 this were so, Dermot, my beloved, there is a 
 Comforter and a Counsellor far more efficient 
 than I can be to you ever close at hand. Oh, 
 that 1 could make you feel this !' 
 
 ' Hush, hush, Helen. You are my soul, my 
 religion. The very thought of separation from 
 you is such an agony of suffering to me that I 
 cannot bear to dwell upon it.' 
 
 To converse calmly on what must some day be 
 inevitable will not bring it nearer, Dermot.' She 
 raised her head from his shoulder with a heaven- 
 ly smile. ' But I will not dwell upon that which 
 distresses you ; though, when sorrow is so 
 abounding all around us, why should we ex-
 
 A life's devotion. 95 
 
 pect to be ever exempt from it? But there, go 
 now and see abont these poor Brians, and then 
 make arrangements so that the day may pass 
 pleasantly for Hugh. I think his heart is sorer 
 than he will admit, poor fellow.' 
 
 As she spoke, Lady Ballina pushed her hus- 
 band gently, and with w^ell-acted playfulness, 
 towards the door. She wished to be alone. He 
 kissed her again, but this time she seemed hardly 
 conscious of his embrace, and appeared like one 
 in a dream. 
 
 But he was too light of heart at her having 
 so readily acquiesced in his wishes to be mind- 
 ful of the strangeness of her manner, and said, 
 smiling, 
 
 * I see you want to get rid of me, you busy 
 one, and plunge into that pile of accounts.' 
 
 As the door closed upon her husband, Lady 
 Ballina sank on her knees, and threw her arms 
 up, exclaiming, 
 
 * For their sakes, for their sakes. Oh, Father 
 in heaven, spare mc. Thou knowest I am 
 ready, but to leave them — to leave them.' Sobs 
 checked her utterance, and, in fear they should
 
 96 A life's devotion. 
 
 be heard, this loving wife and mother buried 
 her face in the cushions of the sofa in agonising 
 efforts at self-restraint. 
 
 Outside, a prolonged peal of childish laughter 
 rose from the garden, and, carried on the wings 
 of the soft western breeze, floated into the room 
 where the poor mother knelt in anguish. Well 
 she knew and well she loved that soft, joyous 
 laugh ; to her it was the sweetest music on earth, 
 and, as peal after peal of ringing mirth rose on 
 the air, she moaned aloud in increased sorrow, 
 
 ' Oh, blessed years of childhood, when grief 
 however poignant can be so quickly laid aside.' 
 
 Great as had been Shelah's trouble, it was 
 evidently for the moment forgotten in the 
 society of her new friend. Hugh's guardian- 
 ship had already commenced, and as a consoler 
 he had proved all powerful. 
 
 But the mother's agony remained unabated, and 
 her tears continued to flow ; for she could not 
 disguise from herself that her life, so precious 
 to others, was in deadly peril — that the seed 
 sown by the foul fever-fiend had already taken 
 root in her enfeebled frame. She required no 
 explanation now of the cause of her languor
 
 A life's devotiox. 97 
 
 and unusual depression. For alas ! a few days 
 previously she had not only sat a considerable 
 time in the Brians' cabin, but had held one of the 
 children, already — though this was unknown to 
 her — sickening for death, in her tender motherly 
 arms, while she strove, meanwhile, to lull it to 
 sleep by her melodious singing. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 98 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 As soon as she had recovered from the shock 
 €aused by knowledge of the danger to which, 
 unwittingly, she had exposed herself, Lady 
 Ballina pursued her usual avocations of daily 
 life with all her wonted serenity. To her hus- 
 band she breathed no word of the Damocles 
 Rword she was too well aware hung over their 
 heads, but, under the plea that she suffered 
 from sleeplessness, changed her bed-room, 
 observing that the doctor advocated fresh 
 surroundings as the best cure for insomnia 
 — an evil she had been much troubled with 
 latterly. It was in dread of conveying to him 
 the poison that was too probably lurking in her 
 own system that she thus, without creating suspi- 
 cion in his mind, voluntarily separated herself from 
 him. For the same reason she abstained from 
 embracing her child, satisfying Shelah's tender
 
 A life's devotion. 99 
 
 feelings by saying she feared giving her the 
 cold she thought was hanging about herself, and 
 as, whenever this was the case, Lady Ballina 
 always took precautionary measures on account 
 of Shelah's rather delicate health, her little 
 daughter remained perfectly content. 
 
 Having thus done all in her power to avert 
 danger from those she loved, this brave lady 
 €almly awaited the course of events. 
 
 But, though to others she was silent, to Hugh 
 she made no secret of her fears, and, if aught 
 <30uld have increased the reverence in which he 
 held her, it would have been the simple but mag- 
 nanimous manner Avith which she discussed witli 
 Lim the dire possibilities of the future. 
 
 The very day after the fatal discovery that 
 bad been made to her, she observed, when they 
 were alone, 
 
 ' In cases of this kind, I know too well how 
 quickly delirium may set in, and incapacitate 
 the stricken sufferer from making any request on 
 behalf of even those they love best. I therefore 
 now solemnly adjure you, dear Hugh, to remain 
 over my child's friend, and Dermot's also,' she 
 added, quickly ; 'never mind what liappens in 
 
 II 2
 
 100 A life's devotion. 
 
 the future, remain true to both. Though yon 
 are such a young man,' she added, faintly smil- 
 ing, 'the great difference in your age and that 
 of your god-daughter must, combined with 
 the love and confidence with which you have 
 already inspired her, give you great influence 
 over Shelah.' 
 
 In her motherly anxiety. Lady BaUina un- 
 consciously betrayed how weak was her confi- 
 dence in Lord Ballina's judicious treatment of 
 their child. 
 
 Unhesitatingly Hugh accepted the trust con- 
 fided to him. There was such a deep serious- 
 ness in his cousin's words and manner, such a 
 mournful presentiment of approaching evil, that 
 he made no attempt to treat her words lightly, 
 he only sought in every way possible to lead 
 her thoughts into brighter channels. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Shelah seemed to pass 
 quite naturally into his almost exclusive care 
 and society, for Lord Balhna had been suddenly 
 summoned to Dublin Castle on political business 
 admitting of no delay. This occurrence had 
 been almost a relief to Lady Ballina, as, no 
 longer trembling beneath the watchful eye of
 
 A life's devotion. 101 
 
 bis love, she could more calmly set her house 
 in order, in view of that solemn call which, with 
 an anguished heart, she reahsed might be made 
 at any moment. 
 
 Therefore, when Hugh and Shelah were on 
 the lake, or he was shooting on the bogs — where 
 his young companion, miserable at the slaughter 
 his unerring gun effected, yet unable to bear 
 separation from her new friend, would sit at a 
 distance, her face buried in her hands that she 
 might avoid seeing the birds fall — Helen, happy 
 in the conviction that she had enlisted Hugh's 
 love and judicious care for her child, was wrest- 
 ling in prayer, imploring for submission to what- 
 everwas appointed, or occupied in writing tender 
 words of love and consolation to her husband 
 aod Shelah in the event of her death. 
 
 Through all this period of lonely waiting and 
 watching her faith never once wavered, and the 
 perfect calm of her devout soul received its re- 
 ward, for she was vouchsafed the assurance 
 that, however great might be the trials of her 
 unstable-minded husband and her sensitive, 
 loving child, neither would be forsaken or left 
 unsupported. kSucIi reliance and faith is ac-
 
 102 A life's devotion. 
 
 corded but to few, perhaps because so few crave 
 for it with the same earnestDess of spirit and 
 complete faith as did Helen Ballina. 
 
 And thus more than a week passed. Lord 
 Ballina was still detained in Dublin, it must be 
 acknowledged not quite unwillingly. There 
 was a gay party assembled at the Castle, 
 and it was by no means an unpleasant ex- 
 perience to Lord Ballina to find himself again 
 plunged into the midst of a brilliant and 
 fashionable coterie, where his handsome face 
 and Irish humour were duly appreciated by 
 everyone. His satisfaction would certainly have 
 been enhanced had his lovely Helen been present 
 to share in his social triumphs, but, as he could 
 not induce her to accompany him, he was glad 
 she should be at home to entertain the guest he 
 had been forced to desert. He had also recom- 
 mended Carmichael to the care of his uncle, Mr^ 
 Fitz-Maurice, a man of culture and refinement ; 
 and, during the absence of her husband. Lady 
 Balhna frequently invited him to meet her 
 cousin, and the two became excellent friends. 
 
 Exiled for years in the wilds of Ireland, Mr.
 
 A life's devotion. 103 
 
 Fitz-Maurice hailed tlie advent of a mau like 
 Captain Carmichael with enthusiasm. Conver- 
 sation with so congenial a spirit was as re- 
 freshing as sparkling champagne might be to 
 one who has long imbibed nothing but the flatest 
 table beer. Hugh entered with the keenest 
 interest into the work he had primarily visited 
 Ireland to carry out, and together with Mr. Fitz- 
 Maurice and Lady Ballina discussed how best 
 tliey could employ the funds provided by gen- 
 erous English hearts to ameliorate the prevail- 
 ing destitution in Ireland occasioned by the 
 total failure of the potato crop. 
 
 Mr. Fitz-Maurice was blessed, or perhaps 
 burdened would be a more correct term, with a 
 very large family. These young people were 
 much older than Shelah, and were her sole 
 companions, but she did not care much for 
 their society; they were robust, unimaginative 
 children, and had no sympathy with the more 
 poetic side of her character; indeed, in their 
 unspoken thoughts they dubbed her a dreamy 
 little dullard, and when slie had spent the day 
 with them it was almost with a sigh of relief 
 that they watched her departure and returned
 
 104 A life's devotion. 
 
 to those rough sports that had no charm for 
 her. 
 
 Since Captain Carmichael's amval she had, 
 however, completely deserted her cousins' 
 society, having found a companionship infinite- 
 ly more to her taste. Wherever he went she 
 accompanied him, and had been his guide to 
 every spot of interest in the vicinity of her 
 liome. There was one expedition still to be 
 made, some miles off, but it was to be reserved 
 until Lord Ballina's return from Dublin. 
 
 The great attraction of this postponed da}^ of 
 pleasure was an ancient and long-disused church- 
 yard, where stood three Irish crosses of great 
 antiquity, held, together with the well in their 
 vicinity, in deepest reverence by the peasantry for 
 miles around. Prayers said at the foot of these 
 crosses procured indulgence for many past 
 oiFences, however heinous, while a wish breathed 
 during the imbibing of a cup of water from the 
 crystal spring bubbling up from the sacred well 
 was bound to meet with its speedy fulfilment. 
 
 Long and ardently had Shelah desired to pay 
 a visit to this miracle-working spot where she 
 ]iad but once before been, and in which she had
 
 A life's devotion. 105 
 
 the profoundest faitb, for on that occasion had 
 not her childish desire met with the desired 
 answer ? 
 
 Without expressing her reason, Lady Balhna 
 hastened this day's pleasuring, observing to 
 Hugh, two or three days after her husband's 
 departure, 
 
 * I think it would be better for you and She- 
 lah not to wait for Dermot's return, but to take 
 advantage of this lovely day for your pilgrim- 
 age to the wishing-well. You might take your 
 luncheon at Mick's cottage, and so break the 
 journey.' 
 
 ' But this entails an early start, and separation 
 for the day from you,' replied Hugh, doubtfully. 
 
 ' Mamma, mamma ! You must come with us,' 
 exclaimed Shelah ; and, jumping up from her 
 seat at the breakfast-table, she rushed impetuous- 
 ly towards her mother, and made an attempt to 
 embrace her. But, with sudden and nervous 
 energy. Lady Ballina thrust her aside, whilst a 
 spasm of mental agony passed over her face. 
 
 ' Oh, mussey,' cried out the child, with tears in 
 her eyes. * Your cold is quite gone, I am sure. 
 Why do you push me away? You are unkind.'
 
 106 A life's devotion. 
 
 * Unkind I' wildly repeated Lady Ballina, seiz- 
 ing her little daughter in her arms, while, with 
 head averted and eyes raised imploringly heaven- 
 wards, she clasped her for an instant convulsive- 
 ly to her heart, but as suddenly she released the 
 child, and, springing from her chair, placed a 
 distance between them. 
 
 But, during that short moment of irrepressible 
 motherly expansion, Shelah had distinctly heard 
 the loud beating of the fond heart upon which 
 her little head rested ; had caught the thrilHng 
 repetition of her own word, ' unkind ;' and never 
 in after years did she forget those sounds, nor 
 that passionate, silent clasp of a mother's over- 
 powering love, the last she was ever destined to 
 receive. 
 
 Though unable to fathom the full meaning of 
 her mother's impetuous action, and re-assured 
 that there was no abatement of her affection, 
 Shelah felt a little abashed at the petulant word 
 which had escaped her, and looked shyly to- 
 wards Hugh. But his eyes were gravely fixed 
 on Lady Ballina, who, with her back turned 
 from both, was struggling to recover the self-
 
 A life's devotion. 107 
 
 possession that bad momentarily deserted her. 
 She was the first to speak. 
 
 * Shelah, my darling,' she said, in a low, gentle 
 voice, 'you can trust mother, can you not? I 
 fear I have an increased cold. If it were not so^ 
 we would cover each other with kisses, and I 
 should accompany you and Mr. Hugh to-day. 
 But I want to try get quite well before papa 
 comes home.' 
 
 * Dear, darling mussey, forgive me,' said the 
 child, with deep penitence, and coming closer 
 to her mother. 
 
 Lady Ballina playfully held her hand out, 
 saying, 
 
 ' My sweet Shelah, there is nothing to for- 
 give. There, you may kiss my hand. What a 
 privilege I' 
 
 Shelah seized that fair, white baud, and her 
 rosy mouth devoured it with kisses. As she let 
 it go, Lady Ballina dropped it on her head, mur- 
 muring, with intense tenderness and deep 
 solemnity, 
 
 * May God's blessing rest on my little daugh- 
 ter now and for ever.' Gently motioning She-
 
 108 A life's devotion. 
 
 lah away, she added, with a smile, ' Now, 
 darHng, run and get ready for this all-important 
 pilgrimage. Your wish is, I am sure, already 
 formed, and Hugh's also. But mind they must 
 not be revealed, or the charm is at once 
 broken.' 
 
 Desiring to prove her obedience, Shelah flew 
 out of the room, blowing back kisses innumer- 
 able to her mother when she reached the door. 
 
 Captain Carmichael hesitated, the great emo- 
 tion he had witnessed in one usually so calm 
 and self-contained had filled him with alarm. 
 But Lady BaUina evidently feared his obser- 
 vation, for, passing hastily from the room, she 
 begged him to order the car at once, saying she 
 must look after the luncheon. Nor did he see 
 her again -until, as he and Shelah were driving 
 away, he caught sight of her stately figure stand- 
 ing at the window of the library, from whence 
 she waved her handkerchief to them in token of 
 farewell. 
 
 In the same position she remained, motionless 
 as a statue, gazing with mournful prescience on 
 the retreating car, where sat the little figure, 
 conspicuous in its red cloak, that she loved
 
 with every fibre of her heart. Nor did she dis- 
 continue her watch until the car had wholly 
 disappeared from sight. AVhen at last she turned 
 away from the window two large tears, the 
 overflowings of a silent and terrible sorrow, slow- 
 ly coursed down her cheeks. Helen knew that 
 hours of supremest agony lay before her, and 
 that she might never again look on her child's 
 face, unless she passed safely through the ordeal 
 lying before her; for she was assured in her own 
 mind she was sickening for that deadly malady 
 she had contracted when engaged on her errand 
 of mercy in the Brians' cottage. 
 
 Passing her hand over her eyes, she rang the 
 bell, murmuring, ' There is still much to be doue^ 
 I must not give way yet.' 
 
 On the servant replying to her summons, she 
 desired the instant presence of Bridget. Quickly 
 the nurse appeared, when Lady Ballina, whc^ 
 had a bundle of letters in her hand, said, 
 
 * Give this to Captain Carmichael immediate- 
 ly on his return, and keep Miss Shelah away 
 from me ; for, dear Bridget, I fear — I fear I have- 
 the fever. 1 have seen too much to mistake the 
 symptoms.' She placed her hand to her beauti-
 
 110 A life's devotion. 
 
 ful throat as she spoke. ' Within the last hour 
 I have a choking sensation here. And my throat 
 "has been painful all night.' 
 
 * God in His mercy preserve your ladyship,' 
 exclaimed Bridget, turning white as death. ' It's 
 me that will nurse ye, if it's stricken with the 
 fever ye are, dear lady.' 
 
 ' Not so, Bridget. You must remain near 
 Miss Shelah, and I wish jou. to promise me that, 
 whatever happens in the future, you will never 
 for any consideration be induced to leave my 
 
 €hild.' 
 
 * May the Blessed Vargin and the holy St. 
 Patrick desert me in the last hour : May I know 
 hunger and thirst in this world, and years of 
 torment hereafter, if ever I desert me darling,' 
 exclaimed the faithful servant, with devout ener- 
 gy, sinking on her knees and raising* her hands 
 and eyes with solemn earnestness heavenwards. 
 
 ' I would believe you on your simple promise, 
 my good Bridget,' rephed Lady Ballina, deeply 
 moved, and holding out her hands towards the 
 nurse, who seized and pressed them to her lips 
 and to her heart. Then, rising from her knees 
 with a brave effort to disguise her own fears and
 
 A life's devotion. Ill 
 
 emotion, iii order to assure her mistress, she 
 said, 
 
 * But maybe it's only a bad cowld your lady- 
 ship has. And it's a fright, all for nothin', yer 
 giving yerself.' 
 
 * The doctor whom I have sent for from 81igo 
 will decide this,' replied Lady Ballina, with a sad 
 smile. ' And now leave me, dear Bridget, and 
 obey my orders most strictly. By so doing you 
 can best serve your mistress in the trial await- 
 ing her.' 
 
 She gently withdrew her hand from the nurse's 
 grasp, and Bridget, stunned with grief, turned 
 and silently left the room, but when out of sight 
 and hearing of her mistress she flung her apron 
 over her head, and, swaying her body to and 
 fro, wept aloud, with an impetuosity of grief as 
 genuine as it was demonstrative and energetic, 
 muttering between her sobs, 
 
 * Oh ! me misthress, me sweet misthress. But 
 the third call has not been heard yet, and there's 
 mercy in heaven above.' 
 
 Left alone, with that courage and power of 
 endurance for the sake of others which is the 
 mark of all sublimer characters, Ladj' Ballina,
 
 112 A life's devotiox. 
 
 notwithstanding sbe was oven now in great 
 bodily suffering, sat down to wiite to her hus- 
 band, begging him to return home at once, un- 
 less duty imperatively called upon him to remain 
 in Dublin; and, as disturbances were hourly 
 expected there, she thought this might not be 
 improbable. It was an unfortunate clause to 
 have added to her appeal for his return, as she 
 did not state what was her reason for this 
 desire. 
 
 * But why alai'm him V was her thought, * I 
 may be mistaken, after all ; and why spoil his 
 pleasure ? I shall leave him to imagine it is my 
 love alone that pleads for his presence here. I 
 am sure this will suffice to bring him home.' 
 
 It was a cross post from Ballina to the Irish 
 capital, and in these days no telegraphic com- 
 munication existed between the outer world 
 and the little village where fever and famine 
 were decimating the population. 
 
 When Lord Ballina received his wife's letter, 
 she was alread}^ delirious and wholly unconsci- 
 ous of all that surrounded her, while the busi- 
 ness which had called him to Dublin, being 
 unfinished, necessitated his remaining there, or,
 
 A life's DEVOTION. 113 
 
 at least, so he judged, and wrote to this effect 
 in answer to his Helen's too gently expressed 
 desire for his return, adding playfully that he 
 was obeying the call of duty he had learned 
 from her example never to neglect, and therefore 
 she would approve of his conduct. 
 
 This letter was never opened. Lord Ballina 
 found it on his writing-table when he ultimately 
 arrived home. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 114 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Reassured by the smile with which Lady 
 Ballina had speeded their departure, and 
 cheered by the invigorating influences of the 
 brisk, autumnal morning, combined with the 
 gay prattle of his young companion, Hugh 
 ^endeavoured to dismiss the alarm previously 
 haunting him respecting his cousin's health, 
 feeling sure that had Helen felt any symptoms 
 of illness she would have revealed them to him. 
 Even he had not gauged the depth of her 
 unselfishness. Until certain of having the fatal 
 fever, she would trouble none with the possi- 
 bility of impending danger. 
 
 It was a day of unusual loveHness, and the 
 strong little cob attached to the car, as though 
 inspirited by its brightness, trotted swiftly 
 through the park and by the lake, the stillness 
 of whose waters were undisturbed by a ripple.
 
 A life's devotion. 115 
 
 except when the Avild fowl reposing amongst 
 the reeds and rushes, scared by the approach of 
 the sight-seers, rose in flights to drop down at 
 a safer distance on the lake, and glide out of 
 reach of their enemy — man. 
 
 * Oh, for my gun !' exclaimed Hugh, with the 
 enthusiasm of the true sportsman, and cocking 
 his stick to his eye as though it were the unerr- 
 ing weapon of destruction he longed for. 
 
 ' I am so glad you have no gun, Mr. Hugh,' 
 observed Shelah. * I was so afraid you would 
 bring it.' 
 
 'And it pains you to see the birds fall, little 
 one?' 
 
 ' It hurts me here,' she replied, putting her 
 hand to her heart. 
 
 Touched by her action, Captain Carmichael 
 drew the child towards him, saying, 
 
 ' Game must be killed. Queen Shelah ; and 
 man, being a destructive animal, enjoys such 
 sport. But I love you none the less for your 
 soft feelings. You and I will alwaj'S be friends, 
 sweet child.' 
 
 * Oh, yes, always — always, Mr. Hugh,' she 
 repeated, nestling towards him. Suddenly she 
 
 I 2
 
 116 A life's devotion. 
 
 looked Tip, saying, * I should be so happy — I 
 mean quite happy to-day if dear, beautiful 
 mamma was with us. I wish I had not called 
 her unkind ; she never was unkind to me in my 
 whole life, and oh ! I love her so much.' 
 
 ' I think your mother understood it was your 
 love that called forth that word, so you need not 
 fret about it, Shelah. I also wish she was with 
 us.' 
 
 * Do you think she has much cold V asked the 
 child, looking up at him, with her little face full 
 of anxious inquiry. 
 
 'Perhaps not, Shelah. But she knows best. 
 Oh, look at that heron !' he exclaimed, sudden- 
 ly, feehng they Avere treading on dangerous 
 ground. Anxious to divert the child's thoughts 
 from the subject she had started, he pointed to 
 the picturesque bird in question standing on a 
 large stono close to the lake, in sullen and 
 solemn contemplation of its blue depths. It 
 flew away as they came nearer ; but it had 
 offered a fresh channel for conversation, and, 
 as Hugh expatiated on the habits of this bird 
 and others, Shelah became wholly absorbed in 
 the ornithological knowledge he imparted, the
 
 A life's devotion. 117 
 
 discussion of which occupied their time uutil 
 they reached Mick's cabin. 
 
 It was strange the poAverful hold Captain 
 Carmichael had attained over this child's mind 
 during the short space of their acquaintance. 
 Even with respect to the Banshee he had greatly 
 •quieted her terrors, not by ridiculing them, but 
 by gently leading her thoughts away from 
 the disturbing topic, and by teUing her he was 
 sure that, nltimately, this mysterious cry which 
 80 distressed her would bo accounted for by 
 natural agency. To try to make good his 
 words he had, like Lord Ballina, passed a whole 
 night on the island, but not a sound had arisen 
 to reward his watch, or to strengthen his sus- 
 picions that the island was occasionally tenanted 
 by somethiug more material in form than the 
 dreaded Banshee. But, meanwhile, by substi- 
 tuting more wholesome mental food, Captain 
 Carmichael had greatly weakened Shelah's love 
 for fairy lore, and those marvellous, but now 
 forbidden, tales of Mick's. 
 
 When they arrived at his cabin, he was wait- 
 ing outside the door to welcome them. In a 
 state of considerable excitement, Shelah sprang
 
 118 A life's devotion. 
 
 from the car. The sorrow caused by her 
 mother's absence was sv/ept from her memory 
 in the pleasure of the moment, and, as she ran 
 into the cabin, she called out, gleefully, 
 
 ' Bring in the basket, Mick. But 1 hope the 
 potatoes are ready, for that's the best part of 
 the feast.' 
 
 ' Ther biling beautiful, Queen, and ther the 
 mealiest and the foinest in the three counties,' 
 replied Mick, preparing to impack the sub- 
 stantial luncheon ordered by Lady Ballina. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Hugh looked about him in 
 thoi'ough enjoyment of experiences so novel. 
 And, notwithstanding that the bog lay stretched 
 out in all its nakedness in every direction, the 
 treeless expanse assumed such rich and varied 
 hues of brown and yellow beneath the quiver- 
 ing light and shadow caused by the white 
 clouds saiHng in the blue sky above, that he no 
 longer viewed the landscape with that profound 
 disgust it had, on first sight, inspired him. The 
 sun has a potent power, and can transform into 
 beauty the homeliest surroundings. 
 
 Broad was the smile with which Mick greeted 
 his guests, as he considered them, for had he
 
 A life's devotion. 119 
 
 not provided the buttermilk and potatoes that 
 were to help out the luncheon ? 
 
 It was altogether a very gay feast, but, being 
 only the commencement of the day's expedi- 
 tion, they were soon again en route^ the fisher- 
 man, at his own request, accompanying them. 
 He had reasons of his own for desiring to make 
 a pilgrimage to the far-famed v/ishing-well, for 
 surely prayers ofiered up at a shrine so holy 
 must help to avert the terrible misfortune fore- 
 boded to the family by the Banshee's dirge-like 
 wailings, so recently heard. 
 
 As they left the road running through the 
 bog, the scenery by no means improved. Two 
 or three flat-shored, cheerless lakes, wholly 
 destitute of interest, were skirted, and, on the 
 borders of these uninteresting sheets of water, 
 occasional groups of miserable hovels were hud- 
 dled together, presenting an equally unpictur- 
 esque and wretched aspect. At the doors of these 
 dwellings, from whence the smoke of the peat-fire 
 escaped in many cases for want of other outlet, 
 stood the ragged, starved inmates, momentarily 
 roused from their apathetic state of misery and 
 hunger at sight of the passing car, in pursuit of
 
 120 A life's devotion. 
 
 which skeleton mongrels — and every cabin seem- 
 ed to possess one or more of these ghastly curs 
 — rushed furiously, barking savagely as Mick 
 struck at them with his whip. 
 
 Even the sun seemed to hide itself in sadness 
 aad shame at being witness of the desolation of 
 the land. Thick, black clouds were beginning 
 to obscure its glory, and the day was rapidly 
 and disagreeably changing. The chillier air, 
 combined with the dreary scenes they were 
 passing through, caused Captain Carmichael to 
 give a slight shiver, quickly noticed by his little 
 companion, who observed softly, fearing her 
 native county was making a bad impression 
 upon him, 
 
 * It will be quite different and much prettier 
 when we get to the wishing-well. We are 
 quite close to it now.' 
 
 Her words were soon verified, for a turn in 
 the road brought them in sight of the church- 
 yard where the ruins of an ancient chapel, com- 
 bined with the old Irish crosses, were of suffi- 
 cient importance to give character and interest 
 to the landscape. 
 
 The well itself was overshadowed bv an
 
 A life's devotion. 121 
 
 oak of venerable age, dwarfed in size by the pass- 
 ing years, but still retaining a trunk of immense 
 girth, and branches twisted and gnarled into 
 every variety of grotesque shape. Upon these 
 branches hung pieces of cloth, tin, and rags of 
 all sorts and descriptions, the votive offerings of 
 devout believers in the miraculous power of 
 the well. 
 
 Shelah had brought a piece of pink ribbon 
 wdth her to fasten on the tree. Having gravely 
 and silently accomphshed this task, she knelt 
 down close to the edge of the well, and by 
 the movement of her lips Captain Carmichael 
 guessed she was saying a prayer. For worlds he 
 would not have shaken her belief in the spiritual 
 power of the well. She looked so exquisitely 
 pretty, so full of faith in the answer she hoped 
 to receive, that those words emanating from 
 divine lips, ' Except ye be converted and be- 
 come as little children, ye shall in no wise enter 
 into the kingdom of heaven,' rose involuntarily 
 to his mind. 
 
 Her silent prayer concluded, Shelah rose 
 from her kneeling attitude, and, unable to fill 
 for herself the copper cup loft for the drinking
 
 122 A life's devotion. 
 
 of the sacred water, she begged Captain Cav- 
 michael to do it for her. 
 
 Very slowly, with a look of deep seriousness, 
 the child imbibed the crystal drops, and then 
 handed it back for him to do the same. He had 
 been so intently watching her, and wondering 
 what her wish had been, that he forgot to 
 form one himself as he took a full draught 
 from the holy spring. 
 
 Ah ! poor Shelah I Both her prayer and wish 
 had been the same : that she might find her 
 mother's cold quite gone on their return, and 
 that thus she might be allowed to lay her head 
 on that loving mother's bosom again and kiss 
 those sweet lips. 
 
 Hapless child! never more was she to be 
 sheltered in a mother's fond embrace, never 
 more was she to feel the warm pressure of a 
 mother^s lips on her own. The fiat had gone 
 forth. Already the destroying angel was accom- 
 plishing with cruel swiftness that pitiless work 
 which was to darken for ever Shelah's hitherto 
 bright childhood, and bring her face to face with 
 premature suffering and sorrow. "Well for her 
 that the foresight of a mother's love had raised
 
 A life's devotion-. 123 
 
 her up a friend, Avho through weal and woe 
 was destined never to fail her. 
 
 As Hugh carelessly tossed off his cup of 
 Avater, Shelah observed, reproachfully, 
 
 * I don't think you made any wish, Mr. Hugh.' 
 ' That is easily rectified,^ he answered, as he 
 
 smilingly gathered a little water in the hollow 
 of his hand and applied it to his lips, saying, 
 *My wish is that we shall ever remain friends^ 
 Queen Shelah.' 
 
 ' Ah ! you should not have spoken out loud,' 
 she exclaimed. ' They say it prevents the wish 
 coming to pass.' 
 
 * " They say " has no power over mc, little one. 
 Whatever happens in the future, my pretty 
 Psyche, — for you will always be associated in my 
 mind with the butterflies, — I shall ever remain 
 your friend, of this you may be certain.' 
 
 He stooped as he spoke and kissed her win- 
 ning little face turned gravely towards him. 
 
 * But it is getting late, my small friend, and, 
 as I think we have derived all tlie benefit we 
 are likely to obtain from our pilgrimage to this 
 sacred spot, we had better summon Mick from 
 his devotions and hasten back to your mother.'
 
 124 A life's devotion. 
 
 Calling to the fisherman who was kneeling 
 at the foot of one of the crosses, energetically 
 invoking the aid of every saint in the calendar 
 against the spells of that evil agency in which 
 he had so profound a beHef, Captain Car- 
 michael desired him to summon the driver of the 
 car, and soon the little party were hastening 
 homewards with all speed, Mick having prophe- 
 sied a serious change, for the worse, in the 
 weather. His forecast proved correct, for the 
 afternoon had set in dark and lowering, while 
 an ominous wind was whistling through the old 
 oak-tree and scattering its leaves round in every 
 direction. 
 
 Wrapping up Shelah waiToly, Hugh passed 
 his arm round her, while she, nestling close up 
 to him, laid her head confidingly on his shoulder, 
 where she soon fell asleep. Gazing down on 
 her soft, childish face, so pure and peaceful 
 in its expression, and reposing so trustfully in 
 his arms, he murmured, with a pleased smile, 
 
 'It is not difficult to vow to remain your 
 friend and protector, sweet child, though I trust, 
 in God, I may never be called upon to fulfil
 
 A liff/s devotiox. 125 
 
 that vow. I should ill supply your mother's place, 
 ■little Shelah.' 
 
 Afraid of disturbing the pretty sleeper, ho and 
 the fisherman carried on conversation in a low 
 voice across the well of the car ; while Hugh 
 smoked his cigar, and Mick that inevitable short 
 pipe, which was never long out of his mouth. 
 Gradually Captain Carmichael, unable to share 
 in Mick's sanguine aspirations for the repeal of 
 the union, and the ultimate triumph of O'Connel 
 over the Enghsh Parliament and the oppressors 
 of the Irish nation, became inattentive to his 
 garrulity, and fell into a train of personal thought, 
 while Mike, with an Irishman's tact, having 
 discovered his conversation was not appreciated, 
 did the same, and from the serious expression 
 of his usually comical and cheerful physiognomy 
 it was evident his were disturbing ruminations. 
 He Avas to bo dropped at his own domicile, and, 
 as the car suddenly stopped for this purpose, 
 Shelah woke up to bid him a drowsy farewell, 
 falling asleep again immediately. 
 
 For a moment the fisherman watched the 
 retreating vehicle with a look of anxious uucer-
 
 126 A life's devotion. 
 
 taiuty ; then, moved by some sudden impulse, he 
 ran after it and jumped on the seat he had just 
 vacated, observing hastily, 
 
 * Maybe, captain, her ladyship has some 
 orders for me. I had best jist run up and 
 inquire.' 
 
 Mick afterwards told Bridget, in confidence, 
 that there seemed to be an inward voice warn- 
 ing him there was * throuble at the house, and 
 he would be wanted. For sure hadn't her lady- 
 ship's mastiff been howlin' fit to distract a body, 
 for nights round the place? And everyone 
 knew what that meant.' That unaccountable 
 foreshadowings of great catastrophes do occa- 
 sionally occur is as certain as it is impossible to 
 account for such strange facts. 
 
 Deeply disturbed by the gloomy presenti- 
 ments which had taken such forcible possession 
 of his intensely superstitious mind, Mick re- 
 mained wholly silent until they reached the 
 park gate, when the woman who opened it 
 stopped the car and whispered to him in a 
 furtive and agitated manner. As she spoke, he 
 flung his arms up in the air with so wild a cry 
 that it startled Shelah out of sleep, while Hugh
 
 A life's devotion. 127 
 
 imperatively demanded what had occurred. 
 Without replying, Mick leaped from the car, 
 and, with one bound clearing the iron fence hard 
 by, began to run as for bare life towards the 
 house. 
 
 ' What has happened V asked Shelah, with the 
 bewildered air of one suddenly aroused from 
 slumber, and looking round with wide-open and 
 frightened eyes. 
 
 < I think Mick has started a poacher, that is 
 all, Shelah. Don t look so terrified, dear child.' 
 
 But, though he spoke these words in re- 
 assui-ing tones, a vague terror seized him, and in 
 a whisper he desired the driver to hasten his 
 speed. As they came in sight of the house, 
 where lights were passing rapidly to and fro, he 
 perceived a carriage standing before the door ; 
 the horses attached to it were panting and 
 covered with foam, giving evidence of hard 
 driving and urgent speed. On seeing this car- 
 riage, which was unknown to Captain Car- 
 michael, Shelah's face turned white, while in 
 lieart-rcnding tones she exclaimed, 
 
 * Mamma, mamma must be ill, that is Dr. 
 Baily's carriage.' She made an effort, as she
 
 128 A life's devotion. 
 
 spoke, to spring ofif the car, but Hugh held her 
 firmly, and strove to soothe her with words of 
 hope and encouragement, though his heart sank 
 within him, for at the open door stood Bridget, 
 her tear-stained face revealing too clearly the 
 dreadful news she Avas endeavouring to conceal. 
 * Let me go, let me go,' shrieked Shelah, as 
 Hugh lifted her off the car ; then, bursting away 
 from his gently retaining grasp, she rushed up 
 to her nurse, crying out, 'I must, I will see 
 mamma. Dear, good Bridget, take me to her at 
 once. I will, 1 will see her.' 
 
 * By-and-by, me honey jewel. But tlie great 
 doctor from SHgo is with her now,' evasively 
 replied Bridget, as she stood in the doorway 
 effectually barring its entrance to her young 
 mistress. She wished to gain time to form her 
 reply so as not to over-alarm her precious 
 charge. 
 
 With preternatural calm for so young a child, 
 Shelah looked steadfastly up into her nurse's 
 face, saying in a low voice, but with a terrible 
 ring of agony ia it, 
 
 * Bridget, has she — has she got the fever V 
 
 * The doctor fears so, darling,' replied the
 
 A life's DEVOTION. 129 
 
 nurse, awed into truth by the look of terrible 
 earnestness and anguish expressed in the child's 
 beautiful eyes. 
 
 As she gave this fatal answer, a change came 
 over Shelah's face. With a look of infinite 
 despair she turned towards Captain Carmichael, 
 and, stretching her little hands towards him, 
 wailed out, in a voice so piteous that it thrilled 
 through him, 
 
 * Then I know she won't see me, for my sake, 
 for papa's. Oh, mamma, my own mamma, and 
 I called you unkind this morning ; oh, Mr. Hugh, 
 what shall I do ?— what shall I do V 
 
 She made a few steps forward, tottered, and 
 would have fallen, had he not caught her in his 
 arms, where for a short space she lay stupefied 
 by the excess of her sorrow. Strong man as he 
 was, his tears dropped on her unconscious face, 
 as he held lier to his heart ; that heart, he had 
 deemed to be hardened and seared by its own 
 bitter disappointments, was overcome with sor- 
 row and sympatliy at beholding the affliction of 
 this childish spirit, with which hib own had been 
 60 strangely brought in contact. 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 With greater swiftness than even her own fears,, 
 or those about her could have anticipated, had 
 Lady BalHna been struck down. 
 
 The sore throat, from which she had been 
 suffering all the previous day and through the 
 night, had rapidly developed into that most dread- 
 ful malady diphtheria, and when the doctor ar- 
 rived her case was all but hopeless. In a hurried 
 and scared manner did Bridget communicate 
 this terrible intelligence to Captain Carmichael, 
 as he bore Shelah up to her room. 
 
 ' She wrote you a letter after you left, sir. 
 Here it is,' whispered Bridget, in a choked whis- 
 per, handing it to him. 
 
 Laying the child on her little bed, he silently 
 took the letter, for Shelah had opened her eyes 
 and was staring wildly at him. Placing it out
 
 A life's devotion. 131 
 
 of sight, he passed his haud soothingly over her 
 head, saying, with gentle persuasion, 
 
 * Shelah, you must try to keep quiet, for 
 papa's sake. I am now going to send a messen- 
 ger for him, and also desire him to bring a doctor 
 from Dublin.' 
 
 'You don't think she will die then ? Oh, Mr. 
 Hugh, say you don't think she will die,' ex- 
 claimed the child, throwing her arms round his 
 neck, and regarding him with agonising 
 enquiry. 
 
 * None can tell but God, Shelah. You must 
 pray to Him.' 
 
 * I did. I did at the well. I prayed I might 
 kiss her when I came home, and He has not 
 heard me — He has not heard me. Oh ! why is 
 thisf 
 
 Alas ! how could he comfort this aching little 
 heart with attempted explanations of mysteries 
 so profound — in this case so impenetrable — so 
 impossible to fathom ; for how to human sight 
 could the loss of such a mother prove anything 
 but a lifelong calamity to one of so peculiar a 
 character as Shelah ? 
 
 But, while he was painfully struggling with 
 
 k2
 
 132 A life's devotion. 
 
 these thoughts, Shelah's little arms were still 
 clinging round his neck, in mute appeal for some 
 answer of comfort. Her confidence in this friend 
 was unbounded ; he had made so many things 
 clear to her, surely he would elucidate this 
 greatest of all mysteries. 
 
 Seeing she was determined to have an answer, 
 after a moment's reflection, he said, 
 
 ' Shelah, even your mother, who loves you so 
 tenderly, has seen fit occasionally to refuse your 
 requests. Yet you know well that such refusals 
 were only dictated by love. Try to think the 
 same of your Father in heaven, who loves you 
 ten-fold better than can any earthly parent. 
 Pray, my sweet child, for submission to His 
 will in all things. I must leave you now, and 
 send Mick off at once to Dublin for your father. 
 If the doctor allows me, I will go and see your 
 mother. You would hke to send her a message, 
 would you not V 
 
 As he spoke, he gently unloosed her arms from 
 his neck, and, as he did so, she sobbed out, 
 
 * Give her my love, and promise to come back 
 and tell me how she is.' 
 
 ' I will promise to come back, Shelah, if you
 
 A life's DEVOTION. 133 
 
 promise to try to sleep so as to be rested when 
 papa comes.' 
 
 She nodded her head in acquiescence, but no 
 sooner had he left the room, than, starting up 
 and looking fearfully around, she whispered to 
 Bridget, 
 
 * Bridget, have you heard Im" again V 
 
 *No, no, me darUng. Don't throuble yer head 
 about her, but just lie down and shut your eyes, 
 me own choild, and Bridget will sing you to 
 sleep, as she used to do when you were a 
 blessed babby in her arms.' 
 
 * Thank you, Bridget,' replied Shelah, grate- 
 fully. ' You will never, never leave me, Bridget, 
 will you V she asked, pitifully, with some sad 
 foreboding at work in her little heart. 
 
 * Never, darling,' exclaimed the nurse, in a 
 firm voice, as she passed her hand over the 
 child's large, dilated eyes — a habit she had ac- 
 quired in order to promote sleep when Shelah 
 was ill or wakeful. 
 
 And the mesmeric influence of that faithful 
 if homely, hand, combined with the woman's 
 low, soft crooning of an old Irish ballad, soon had 
 the desired effect ; for, overcome with grief and
 
 134 A life's devotion. 
 
 fatigue, Shelah fell at last into a heavy slumber. 
 
 In the meanwhile, having dispatched Mick 
 for Lord Ballina by the swiftest mode of con- 
 veyance that could be procured, Captain Car- 
 michael had an interview with Dr. Baily, whose 
 report too truly confirmed the fatal intelhgence 
 already communicated by Bridget. Lady Bal- 
 lina was fast succumbing to her rapidly in- 
 creasing sufferings, and to that terrible disorder 
 diphtheria, a malady little understood in her day. 
 
 *I have done all in my power,' said Dr. 
 Baily. * But I grieve to say I am without 
 hope, in consequence of her ladyship's system 
 being so enfeebled by her indefatigable exer- 
 tions on behalf of others. She has no strength 
 to battle with the disease.' 
 
 The doctor spoke with professional calm. 
 
 * Can I see her?' briefly demanded Captain 
 Carmichael. * Is there the slightest danger, if I 
 do, of my carrying the infection to others V 
 
 *None whatsoever. Personally, you run the 
 greatest risk by approaching Lady Ballina.' 
 
 A contemptuous smile passed over the young 
 man's face. Fear of danger to himself had no 
 place in his thoughts. He was dwelling in
 
 A life's devotion. 135 
 
 pained reflection upon Helen — so young, so 
 beautiful, and brave, whose noble courage had 
 brought her to such a pass that she might not 
 even take a last farewell of her child. Helen, 
 so full of love and sympathy for others, lying 
 alone, in horrible torture, unsolaced by her hus- 
 band's presence, uncheered by one loved voice 
 to soften her passage through the dark valley — 
 dark even to her, though she held the blessed 
 assurance that, once it was crossed, her eyes 
 would open on light everlasting — dark, because 
 that solitary journey involved separation from 
 the husband and child she adored. 
 
 To leave so noble a spirit, who had sacrificed 
 her life for others, to utter loneliness at this 
 supreme moment, Hugh felt to be impossible ; 
 and though he had read his cousin's letter, ex- 
 horting him not to approach her, but to devote 
 himself to the task of soothing Shelab, his mind 
 was at once made up, and turning to the doctor, 
 he said, firmly, 
 
 ' I hold my own life very cheaply. I am devoid 
 of all personal fear of infection. As you affirm 
 I cannot convey it to others, I will at once go 
 and sec Lady Ballina. In the absence of Lord
 
 136 A life's devotion. 
 
 Ballina, my presence may be a comfort to her/ 
 In another moment he was standing by 
 Helen's bedside. Had he retained any hnger- 
 ing hope that the doctor might have exagger- 
 ated the evil, he was quickly undeceived. The 
 change that had come over her lovely features 
 was appalling, they Avere drawn and pinched with 
 agony, while ber glorious eyes, those eyes which 
 were her husband's pride and admiration, were 
 closed, but not in sleep, for she was painfully 
 gasping and strugghng for breath. Near her 
 sat the local doctor, overwhelmed with remorse 
 at having betrayed an obstinate ignorance of 
 her malady — an ignorance which had led to 
 such disastrous consequences. But even to- 
 wards him her unselfish consideration had not 
 failed ; she knew him to be a good and kind 
 man, who to the best of his abihties had aided 
 in all the efforts she had made for the welfare 
 of the poor, whose sufferings had so largely 
 called forth her sympathy, and, even after Dr. 
 Baily's arrival, she still insisted on her old friend 
 remaining in attendance, and, as long as utter- 
 ance was allowed her, strove to console the 
 heart-broken man by assurances that none could
 
 A life's DEVOTION". 137 
 
 hold him accountable for her death — for death 
 and life were in the hands of God alone. 
 
 As Hugh entered, she opened her eyes, but 
 she did not at first recognise him ; when she 
 did, she started, and waved him feebly back 
 with her hand. But, kneeling down, he took it 
 in his, saying, 
 
 ' Dear Helen, for me there is no danger, and 
 I have Dr. Baily's assurance that I cannot carry 
 infection to others, or I would not have dis- 
 obeyed your orders, and I thought you would 
 like to know that I have sent for Dcrmot ; but 
 1 fear he cannot arrive until to-morrow night.' ^ 
 
 ' Too late, too late !' she wailed. ' For I am 
 going to leave him for ever in this world, Hugh. 
 But tell him not to grieve over-much — to live 
 for Shelah. Oh ! Dermot, my beloved husband^ 
 it is hard not to see you again.' 
 
 * Helen, Helen ! Do not give up hope !* 
 exclaimed Hugh. 
 
 She did not seem to hear him, her thoughts 
 were far away with the lover of her girlhood, 
 the fond husband of her later years, for, after a 
 pause, she murmured, 
 
 * Dermot, how happy we have been together I
 
 138 • A life's devotion. 
 
 Don't forsake the poor people ; love them for 
 my sake — for Christ's.' 
 
 She was evidently slightly wandering ; for, 
 suddenly withdrawing her hand from Hugh's, 
 she stretched out both her arms, as though in 
 the act of embracing some one, murmuring, 
 with inexpressible tenderness, 
 
 ' Shelah, my darling, kiss mother ;' but as 
 quickly she thrust her hands out with a back- 
 ward movemcDt, as though repelhng the little 
 one from her, exclaiming, ' No, no, I may not. 
 Take her away — take her away.' 
 
 'Dearest Helen, there is no danger. Shelah 
 is not here,' he said, soothingl3\ ' 1 have just 
 left her, I trust, asleep. But she sent you her 
 love and many kisses. Will you not send her 
 a message in return?' 
 
 A smile lit up the dying mother's face ; the 
 mists clouding her fine intelligence were passing 
 away. 
 
 *My darling — ray darling!' she murmured. 
 * Kiss her for me. Tell her never to forget 
 mother — to comfort her father — to ' 
 
 She fixed her eyes upon Hugh with terrible 
 •earnestness, her voice was getting feebler and
 
 A life's devotiox. 139 
 
 more indistinct, speech was becoming an agony 
 to the dying woman. But, as overcome with 
 sorrow he stooped over the bed, he was enabled 
 to catch the whispered words of undying love 
 and care for her child which faintly passed her 
 lips. 
 
 * Tell Dermot he must never part with 
 Bridget'; then, with a superlative effort, she 
 added, * and, Hugh, remember Shelah is your 
 godchild. Remain ever her friend and protector.' 
 
 ' Always, so help me God. Through weal and 
 woe her welfare will be my fondest and first 
 consideration. Helen, you believe this V 
 
 A faint response, hardly more than a breath, 
 came from Lady Ballina's lips ; but a look of 
 intense satisfaction stole over her face as her 
 weary eyes, still fastened on Hugh, closed. 
 
 Drawing him away, the doctor said, in a low 
 voice, ' that it was best to leave her ladyship ; 
 perhaps she might sleep, and, if she did, there 
 was a chance for her life, or, at least, of its 
 being prolonged until Lord Ballina's return.' 
 
 Captain Carmichael entertained no such hope- 
 ful assurance, and, with an anguish greater than 
 he had ever before experienced, he laid his lips
 
 140 A life's devotion. 
 
 on that beneficent hand lying inertly outside the 
 bed, and whose good offices were now for ever 
 ended. Then, with one long, lingering look at 
 his cousin's white, still face, he left the room to 
 return to Shulah. But in the passage the butler 
 arrested his footsteps, imploring him to make an 
 eflfort to pacify the crowd assembled at the hall- 
 door, who were clamouring for information about 
 their lady, and who would not be persuaded to 
 disperse. 
 
 Nothing could have borne stronger testimony 
 to the adoration Lady Ballina had inspired in 
 the hearts of her tenantry than the passionate 
 desire displayed by these ragged-coated men 
 and bare-footed and bare-headed women and 
 children to obtain news of her blessed ladyship's 
 state, a desire kept within no reasonable bounds 
 by this excitable and mourning multitude. Men 
 and women were loudly vociferating and 
 wringing their hands with a vehemency of 
 grief that was no exaggeration of the feelings 
 overpowering them. Many of the women knelt 
 on the sodden grass, praying with the utmost 
 fervour that God in His mercy would spare 
 their lady, and there they continued to kneel,
 
 A life's devotion. 141 
 
 though the rain was falHng in sharp, iuter- 
 inittent scuds, while a fierce wind was blowing 
 in wild blasts, tearing through the old trees of 
 the park that were straining and groaning like 
 spirits in anguish as they battled with the 
 fierce enemy, striving to uproot and lay them 
 low. And as one or two fell with a crashing 
 sound, the tempest, as though it exulted in its 
 work of destruction and rejoiced in the prevail- 
 ing woe of the grief-stricken crowd, flcAv on- 
 wards and swept round the house, rattling at 
 the windows, screeching at the doors, as if 
 determined to force an entrance, and annihilate 
 everything by the force of its devastating power. 
 It was, indeed, a desperate night, very unlike 
 the bright and beauteous morning which had 
 ushered in this day of sorrow. So wild was the 
 storm, that as, in fulfilment of the butler's 
 request, Captain Carmichael opened the hall- 
 door and stepped outside to pacify the crowd, 
 he staggered back beneath the violence of the 
 blast, and had to cling to the balustrade for 
 support. 
 
 As he appeared, the people crowded up the 
 steps, imploring for news of her ladyship. With
 
 142 A LIFERS DEVOTION. 
 
 an effort, he made his voice heard above the 
 roar of the elements, and m-ged them to return 
 to then' own liomes, reassuring them that Lady 
 BalHna was sleeping, and that quiet and sleep 
 were the only hopes to which they could now 
 cling for her restoration. If she was aware they 
 were watching outside, exposed to such a storm, 
 it would grieve her beyond measure, while their 
 uncontrolled expression of sorrow, if accidentally 
 overheard by her, might have the effect of 
 hastening the catastrophe they dreaded. 
 
 His words acted like magic ; all turned silent- 
 ly away, addressing each other in whispers, 
 and walking gently as though their foot-fall 
 could possibly reach the room where Lady 
 Ballina lay. 
 
 As the crowd dispersed slowly, Captain 
 Carmichael, wholly absorbed by the moving 
 sight, remained standing at the hall-door. The 
 scene was grandly impressive and mournful to 
 the last degree. Through the black clouds, 
 driving with extraordinary velocity across the 
 sky, a sad watery moon struggled, casting 
 occasional, fitful gleams of pale, luiid light over 
 the landscape, and making visible, every now
 
 A life's DEVOTIOX. 143' 
 
 and then, the faithful-hearted peasants, as they 
 mournfully defiled through the park. 
 
 Suddenly, as Captain Carmichael still remained 
 motionless on the steps, watching the retreating 
 mass of people, they all, with one accord, as 
 though turned to stone, came to a stand, while 
 his own heart beat, not with superstitious terror, 
 but with astonishment and awe, as that dismal 
 wail, he had heard once before, rose on the 
 night air, with loud and hideous distinctness, and, 
 caught up by the echoes, was repeated over 
 and over again, filling, in a momentary lull of the 
 storm, the whole air with its doleful sound. * 
 
 Eapidly was the effect of that ill-omened cry 
 visible on the crowd. Everyone instantaneous- 
 ly fell on their knees, casting their hands up to 
 heaven with agitated gestures of despair — one 
 and all were bereft of every ray of hope. The 
 Banshee's cry had been heard for the third time 
 — their beloved lady's doom was sealed. 
 
 Captain Carmichael waited to see no more. 
 His immediate concern was for Shelah. Had 
 she heard that fatal cry? Alas! he had not 
 loug to wait for an answer ; for, as he hastily 
 mounted the stairs to her room, there, standing
 
 144 A life's devotion. 
 
 oil the landing, robed in its white night-dress, 
 stood the little figure he had learnt to love so 
 well. Her face was wholly destitute of colour, 
 while in her dilated eyes there was depicted a 
 look of agonised horror and despair, most painful 
 to witness. At the sight of Hugh, she sprang 
 with one bound into the arms he held out to 
 receive her, and, clinging convulsively to him, 
 she shrieked out, 
 
 * The Banshee — the Banshee. Mamma is dead.' 
 But this was not so. All through that wild 
 night Lady Ballina battled with the foe. Her 
 mind almost continually wandered, but hers 
 were calm and merciful hallucinations, for she 
 imagined both her husband and child were by 
 her side, and in this belief constantly addressed 
 them in words of love, and sweet counsel, 
 mingled with snatches of hymns of praise or 
 prayers for their welfare. 
 
 Towards morning she passed quietly away, 
 happily unconscious of the abounding sorrow 
 that surrounded her — unconscious of the hapless 
 child lying in Hugh's arms, and sobbing her 
 heart out on his sympathetic breast. Already 
 was he called on to fulfil the duties of the trust
 
 A life's devotion. 145 
 
 confided to him by Helen, and once more, as he 
 pressed Shelah closer to his heart, he vowed 
 that his own happiness should ever be a second- 
 ary consideration to hers, and that no sacrifice 
 on his side would he ever think too great if it 
 were to promote her welfare. A vow he never 
 forgot in after years. 
 
 We will draw a veil over Lord Ballina*s 
 return to a home bereft of the wife who, to him, 
 had made all its charm and joy. 
 
 The ungovernable grief of a man, with his 
 character, partakes of temporar}^ insanity. The 
 poignancy of his sorrow was increased by re- 
 morse and despair, for he knew it was pleasure 
 more than business which had delayed his de- 
 parture from Dublin. 
 
 The gay scenes at the Castle, the meeting 
 with some old friends, had proved a renovating 
 tonic to his flagging spirits, as quickly raised as 
 they were depressed; and, ever easily influenced, 
 when his friends proposed his remaining for 
 some races about to take place, he was unable 
 to say no to so tempting a proposal. It was on 
 the race-course that Mick delivered him that let- 
 ter which contained such disastrous intelligence ; 
 
 VOL. L L
 
 146 A life's devotion. 
 
 even then it all but overturned his reason. 
 * Too late, it might be too late/ were the words 
 therein written, clear and distinct. But still 
 the unfortunate husband hoped against hope, 
 only to realise the fulness of sorrow when he 
 reached his once happy home, and, glancing 
 upwards, saw the blinds of the house were 
 all drawn down. 
 
 Alone in her room he remained for hours, for 
 days he refused to see anyone, even Shelah, 
 who implored permission to go to him — at night 
 he roamed about the park, none daring to 
 approach him, though those who kept watch, 
 in fear of his committing some desperate act, 
 could see him wildly gesticulating, as he called 
 upon her he had lost. Deprived of that moral 
 support which had hitherto controlled his im- 
 petuosity and guided his actions, he gave him- 
 self up to the fullest selfishness of sorrow for 
 what was indeed to prove to him an iiTcpar- 
 able loss. 
 
 It was fortunate for Shelah that she had, at 
 this sad time, such a friend as Hugh to turn to 
 for comfort ; for she fell ill, and it was only when 
 Lord Ballina was apprized that she was fretting
 
 A life's devotion. 147 
 
 to such au exteut at his not coming to see her 
 that they feared she might follow her mother to 
 the grave, that he could be at last roused from 
 the egotism of personal sorrow to visit his little 
 daughter. Once he did so, all his fatherly feel- 
 ings awoke afresh, and, with Hugh, he shared 
 the watch by her side through many anxious 
 days and nights. 
 
 But Shelah was destined to have a long life, 
 and, beneath her father's renewed tenderness 
 and Bridget's nursing, the frail little flower 
 raised its head once more and bloomed afresh ; 
 but she had become a hot-house plant, and the 
 doctors declared it was absolutely necessary she 
 should be removed to a warmer climate, and be 
 kept away for a time from the scenes of lier 
 suffering and loss. Lord Ballina had long de- 
 termined on this course. He had taken a hatred 
 of the place that had robbed him of his wife, 
 and which her presence and love had alone made 
 endurable. And, with small appreciation of the 
 duties and responsibihties he was forsaking, he 
 made up his mind to shut up his now desolate 
 home for years and to live abroad, and informed 
 his agent, Mr. Fitz-Mauricc, of this intention. 
 
 l2
 
 148 A life's devotion. 
 
 *None can blame me,' he observed, irritably^ 
 when expostulated with on this resolve. ' Have 
 I not sacrificed Helen's life, and endangered my 
 child's, by residing in this miserable country V 
 
 To Shelah, however, his intentions were not 
 fully made known. Young as she was, her 
 father had an instinct she would disapprove of 
 his determination. She was left in the belief 
 they were leaving the home of her childhood 
 merely for the winter, and, still weak and de- 
 pressed, she looked forward with satisfaction to 
 the proposed change, especially as they were to 
 go to Malta, where, presumably. Captain Car- 
 michael's regiment would be. When strong 
 enough, she visited with him all her old friends, 
 and every favourite hannt of her happy child- 
 hood. The Banshee's Island was the only spot 
 she could not be induced to re- visit, while 
 any allusion to the legend attached to it threw 
 her into a tremor of nervousness pitiable to 
 witness. During this time she often walked in 
 her sleep, and had to be closely watched, for 
 her steps invariably turned towards her mother's 
 room, and, two or three times, Captain Car- 
 michael had gently carried her back and laid her
 
 A life's devotion. 149 
 
 in her own little bed, witliout her ever awaking. 
 
 His affection for the child had increased to 
 such an extent that he dreaded the separation 
 that must ultimately take place between them. 
 He had, for her sake, spent nights on the Ban- 
 shee's Island, trying to discover the origin of 
 the mysterious cry haunting it ; but, as though 
 satisfied by the catastrophe wrought through 
 her agency, the Banshee's cry was heard no 
 more ; and, unable in the present to offer any 
 elucidation of the mystery, he deemed it ad- 
 visable not to revert to the subject cither to 
 Shelah or anyone else. 
 
 It was in the dark and gloomy days of mid- 
 December that Lord Ballina and Shelah, accom- 
 panied by Captain Carmichael, left Ballina. 
 Fearful of the farewell ordeal he anticipated 
 might be in preparation for him on his depar- 
 ture, Lord Ballina had given strict orders that 
 the day decided on should be kept a secret. 
 But the tenantry had soon discovered it, and 
 thus he did not escape what he dreaded; for, 
 though refused admittance into the park, they 
 all assembled in the village, waiting for the post- 
 chaise to pass, and when it appeared its progress
 
 150 A life's devotion. 
 
 was impeded by the excited and weeping peas- 
 antry, who, realising they were being deserted 
 afresh, crowded round the carnage trying to 
 catch a ghmpse of Shelah, who, with the tears 
 streaming down her cheeks, and pale and thin 
 from recent illness, waved her little hands to- 
 wards them, crpng out, 
 
 * Good-bye, good-bye, all of you. We shall 
 come back in the spring, when I shall be quite 
 strong. And Shelah will always love you as 
 mamma did.' Then suddenly she sprang up, 
 and, leaning out of the carriage-window, ex- 
 claimed, ' Mick, Mick, good-bye, good-bye 
 again !' 
 
 She held her hand out to him as she spoke, 
 and, seizing hold of it, ho pressed it to his lips, 
 saying, inarticulately, 
 
 ' God bless you, me Queen, and may the Holy 
 Mary be your shield. Oh, me lard, me lard, 
 bring her safely back to us I' 
 
 Sinking back amongst the crowd, he then, by 
 way of a last farewell, frantically flung his hat 
 into the air, and took to running, all hatless as 
 he was, wildly after the carriage. But Lord 
 Ballina imperatively urged the postillion on, and
 
 151 
 
 in a few minutes the carriage turned a corner 
 and sped out of sight, when poor Mick flung 
 himself face downwards on the ground and 
 wept aloud. 
 
 So ends the first act of Queen Shelah's hfe.
 
 152 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Over five years have elapsed since the events 
 recorded in our last chapters took place, and 
 we re-open on very different scenes. 
 
 It is towards the close of the London season. 
 In one of the largest and most imposing houses 
 a brilliant ball is taking place. Rank and beauty 
 shine pre-eminent. The assembled society is 
 composed of all that is most exclusive, while 
 every sign of wealth and luxury combined with 
 refined taste is lavishly displayed throughout 
 this stately mansion. The fine suite of enter- 
 taining rooms are once more thrown open for 
 the admiration of all beholders, after having been, 
 for years, entombed in brown holland, and re- 
 legated to darkness and grim silence. 
 
 This gala night has long been a subject of 
 
 discussion, and looked forward to with anxious 
 
 ^fcuriosity by everyone, as it is hoped it may lead
 
 A life's devotiont. 153 
 
 to the elucidation of a domestic story which has 
 been long shrouded in mystery. 
 
 For this great ball invitations have been in- 
 cessantly and even humbly craved, but she who 
 gives it has proved inexorable to every petition 
 tending to extend the list of her acquaint- 
 ances. And even youth and beauty have had 
 to shed tears of disappointment over civil but 
 firm rejection. 
 
 Lady Lillbume will not have a crowded ball- 
 room. She has no terror of the unpopularity that 
 may be occasioned by refusal, for the world is at 
 her feet. She has nothing more to gain either from 
 its smiles or its favour, and, as yet, nothing to fear 
 from its mahce and envy. Her popularity rests 
 on the firmest foundations — those of wealth and 
 loveliness most unusual, combined wnth a charm 
 of manner and powers of fascination unsurpassed. 
 Jf that manner is, occasionally, but the silken 
 disguise of thought and feehngs with which it 
 is wholly at variance, the world has not yet 
 made this discovery. 
 
 The world ! how Lady Lillburne has wor- 
 shipped it ! Wliat sacrifices she has made of 
 honour and truth in order to stand in her
 
 154 A life's devotion. 
 
 present position. For the sake of a title — for 
 riches — diamonds — costly dress, she has bartered 
 away her life's happiness, perchance her immortal 
 soul. 
 
 But, since her marriage, Mabel Lillburne has 
 other and subtler reasons for loving the world 
 and desiring to plunge into its vortex. Here 
 she hopes to attain temporary distraction 
 from breedings over a past she would fain 
 completely obliterate from memory, a past that 
 in the quiet and retirement of the countiy was 
 ever haunting her. For life has not turned out 
 for Mabel quite as she anticipated. 
 
 * Oh, for the waters of Lethe — that 1 could 
 forget happy days gone for ever,' was the 
 occasional cry of her soul, as, in despairing 
 tears, she would fling herself on the ground in 
 hatred and loathing of her self-elected fate. 
 This despair of what could now never be altered 
 was, however, but occasional, and often only 
 arose from petulant rebellion against conjugal 
 restraint. 
 
 On this festive evening none could have sur- 
 mised that the bright smiles so enhancing Lady 
 Lillburne's beauty were aught but the reflex of
 
 A life's devotiox. 155 
 
 perfect inward happiness and triumph at liaving 
 attained the summit of her ambition. 
 
 At this present moment she was indeed un- 
 usually content with her lot, for she had 
 achieved a victory she had long struggled in 
 vain to gain. This was the first ball Lord 
 Lillburne had allowed her to give. 
 
 Dressed with apparent simplicity, but in reality 
 with the perfection of studied artistic taste, the 
 clouds of her white tulle gown were looped up 
 and garlanded with orchids of the rarest de- 
 scription, a second j:)a?'z«'5 of the same costly 
 flowers were ready to replace those she wore, 
 when these showed the slightest symptoms of 
 drooping. A single diamond star, of enormous 
 size and value, was fastened in front of the thick 
 auburn plait encircling her head like a coronet, 
 and she moved through the brilliantly-lighted 
 rooms, dispensing, like a young Queen, her smiles 
 to all around, doing the honours of her house 
 with gracious courtesy. 
 
 For this evening, at least, Lady Lillburne was 
 triumphantly happy. She had cast thought and 
 care far away, as though they had no place in 
 her existence. Her naturally frivolous nature
 
 156 A life's devotion. 
 
 was intoxicated by the incense of adulation and 
 admiration which she received from everyone 
 present. And as, with her partner's arm already 
 encircling her graceful figure, she prepared to 
 glide round the room to the musical strains of 
 one of the elder Strauss' valses, she exultingly 
 reflected that such a triumph as hers was to- 
 night, though long delayed, was almost an 
 adequate recompense for every sacrifice she 
 had made in the .past, or all she had endured 
 since her marriage. She loved dancing, and 
 flinging over her shoulder with an impetuous 
 movement of almost girlish excitement one of 
 the long curls which, as was the fashion of the 
 day, fell nearly to her waist, she exclaimed, 
 joyously. 
 
 * I feel a girl again to-night, Mr. Mowbray. 
 It is actually more than four years since I last 
 had a valse, or heard those delicious sounds. 
 Come, let us begin at once.' 
 
 Suddenly' she started, and changed colour, as 
 a hand was laid heavily on her bare arm, while 
 a cold, hard voice observed in a whisper, but a 
 whisper so clear and distinct that Mr. Mowbray 
 could not fail to overhear it,
 
 A life's DEVOTION. 157 
 
 ' I was not aware married women valscd. In 
 any case, I do not desire that my wife should 
 do so, either to-night or in the future.' 
 
 The colour rose in torrents to Lady Lill- 
 burne's face, while a slight shudder passed over 
 her frame, whether from fear or anger Mr. Mow- 
 bray, who had quickly withdrawn his arm from 
 her waist, was unable to decide. He was, how- 
 ever, able to observe that, as far as outward 
 acquiescence to her husband's commands was 
 concerned, there was not a moment's hesitation 
 on Lady Lillburne's part, who, with admir- 
 able sangfroid, turning towards her partner, 
 observed, 
 
 * Lord Lillburne kindly reminds me that it is 
 too early in the evening for a hostess to consider 
 her own amusement. But I am still a novice in 
 entertaining. I must beg you to excuse me, 
 Mr. Mowbray. So good a dancer as you are 
 will have no difficulty in finding another partner 
 to supply my place' 
 
 ' To supply your place would be impossible,' 
 replied Mr. Mowbray, bowing gravely. As he 
 moved away, he murmured, with a smile, ' By 
 George, she is cleverer than I gave her credit for
 
 158 A life's devotion. 
 
 That was an admirable piece of acting, Mabel 
 Lillburne, I congratulate you.' 
 
 An hour later the mystery of the Lillburne 
 marriage, of Lady Lillburne's close retirement 
 from society for more than four years was solved 
 to the complete satisfaction of all the assembled 
 guests. 
 
 It was quite clear that Lord Lillburne was 
 a jealous tyrant, and that the euA-ied queen of 
 society was, for some still unexplained reason, 
 completely subservient to his overbearing will, 
 while anyone who knew Lady Lillburne could 
 prophesy what the denoument of this domestic 
 drama would be. 
 
 'After all, she only reaps as she has sown. 
 AVhy was she so heartless as to throw over that 
 charming Captain Carmichael, merely because 
 he had lost a fortune?' observed to Mr. Mow- 
 bray the pretty girl he had chosen as a partner 
 to replace his hostess. 
 
 ' Lady Lillburne undoubtedly displayed a 
 mercenary spirit most unusual amongst young 
 ladies of the present day, Miss Montague. How 
 differently you would act under similar circum- 
 stances,' replied he, sarcastically.
 
 A life's devotiox. 159 
 
 He was well aware that the girl who ex- 
 pressed such high-flown sentiments was more 
 than ready to accept the first elegible parti that 
 offered, though until that auspicious moment 
 arrived she w^as content to flirt with him, or 
 any other pleasant ineligible, when the oppor- 
 tunity was afforded her. 
 
 When ]\Ir. Mowbray, with discreet tact, had 
 obeyed Lady Lillburne's command to seek 
 another partner, she turned quickly towards her 
 husband, and, notwithstanding the anger and 
 mortification which overwhelmed her at his 
 interference in her evening's pleasure, not a trace 
 of these feelings were visible on her fair face, as 
 she said, with a smile, 
 
 ' I had no idea you objected to my valsing. 
 Why not have told me this before V 
 
 '1 did not think such an expression of my 
 disapproval would have been necessary,' he 
 replied, coldly. ' However, you are now ac- 
 quainted with my wishes on this subject, so 
 that you can make no mistake in future.' 
 
 *But I don't care about giving balls, or going 
 to them, if I may not dance,' she replied, with 
 the petulance of a child.
 
 lOO A life's devotion. 
 
 Poor Mabel ! there was much of the child left 
 in her still. 
 
 ' That is unfortunate. But there is no oc- 
 casion for you to give another ball, nor are you 
 forced to take a part in such frivolous amuse- 
 ments. You have had the satisfaction to-night 
 of displaying your jewels, for which you craved. 
 Let that suffice you.' 
 
 He moved away looking like a thunder-cloud, 
 whilst she remained standing alone. Tears of 
 mortification and anger were rising in her eyes. 
 But, though hers was not a strong character, 
 Lady Lillburne felt obliged to exercise some 
 self-command, for she knew the gaze of many 
 was fixed upon her ; therefore, with calm dignity, 
 as though nothing had occurred to disturb her 
 equanimity, she attempted to make her way 
 through the maze of dancers, in order to join a 
 group of elderly chaperons she had hitherto 
 neglected, and who now revenged themselves 
 by actively employing their unoccupied leisure 
 in cackling over the little scene between hus- 
 band and wife they had just witnessed. 
 
 As with difficulty Lady Lillburne crossed the 
 ball-room, she came in contact with Mr. Mow-
 
 A life's DEVOTIOX. 161 
 
 bray and Lis partner, and distinctly overlieard 
 the remarks of" the latter, who was a very pretty 
 girl to whom she had taken a fancy, and had 
 good-naturedly invited to her ball, without the 
 slightest call for so doing. It was the only 
 exception she had made to her hard and fast 
 rule of exclusiveness. 
 
 * So much for the gratitude of this world,' was 
 her bitter thought. ' Oh, Hugh ! if you only knew 
 how you are avenged,' she murmured, sadly, as 
 for a moment she stood still to let the dancers 
 pass. 
 
 ' Can I aid you. Lady Lillburne ? Though 
 mistress of these revels, you seem in some danger 
 from these mad valsers.' 
 
 Lady Lillburne started violently, as the tones 
 of a well-known voice, the voice of him who at 
 that very moment occupied her thoughts, so un- 
 expectedly fell upon her ear. Almost uncon- 
 sciously she placed her hand on the arm extended 
 for her support, exclaiming, as she gazed wildly 
 in his face, 
 
 *Hugh, you here! I — I thought you were 
 miles away. How good of you to come witli- 
 out an invitation, but you knew you would be 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 A life's devotion. 
 
 "welcome, and it seems oh ! so natural yet so 
 strange to see you.' 
 
 She was trembling with agitation, perhaps 
 with shame and too late repentance. He was 
 perfectly calm, though his expression was sad 
 and grave, as he looked once more on the well- 
 known face, and into the faithless blue eyes 
 raised to his almost appealingly, and still glitter- 
 ing with unshed tears. 
 
 Captain Carmichael had also been an observer 
 — a sorrowful one — of the passage of arms be- 
 tween Lord and Lady Lillburne, and, though his 
 own love for the woman whose hand noAv rested 
 on his arm was dead, the remembrance of it still 
 lingered with him, and it had been too true and 
 deep a feeling for him to entertain the remotest 
 desire that she should suffer for her faithlessness 
 to him. 
 
 He had heard enough of the gossip concern- 
 ing Lord and Lady Lillburne's married life not 
 to be aware that the fulfilment of her dreams of 
 worldly aggrandisement had not been followed 
 by all the happiness she had anticipated. And, 
 as he now felt her hand trembling on his arm, 
 she inspired him only with sentiments of the
 
 163 
 
 deepest commiseratioD, while every lingering 
 thought of bitterness he might have harboured 
 against her passed away for over. He knew that 
 he was avenged by the very hand which had, for 
 a short period, shattered so completely his own 
 happiness. 
 
 As he gazed sorrowfully down upon her he 
 had once so passionately loved, his present cahn 
 indifference in her presence seemed strange to 
 him. Without the slightest embarrassment, in 
 a kind and friendly voice, he said, 
 
 * I should not have ventured to come without 
 an invitation had I not met Lord Lillburne at 
 the Traveller's. He asked to be introduced to 
 me, and pressed me so earnestly to be present 
 at the first ball you gave that I could not l)ut 
 accept. And 1 am really quite dazzled by your 
 /'Aladdin's Palace," Lady Lillburne.' 
 
 * Not Lady Lillburne I never to you. Oh, 
 Hugh ! call me Mabel still. Be merciful and for- 
 giving, be my friend as I once asked you to be, 
 though you would give no answer.' 
 
 ' What answer could 1 give ? You were mar- 
 ried. A woman's best friend is her husband. 
 
 m2
 
 Iti4- A life's devotion. 
 
 She ought to have no other.' His voice was 
 slightly stern. 
 
 Lady Lillburne gave a scornful laugh. She 
 had sat down on an embroidered satin sofa, over- 
 shadowed by a large, drooping palm, and with 
 her hand she made an impatient movement for 
 him to do the same. But he remained stand- 
 ing, looking silently and absently at the dancers. 
 Suddenly she looked up saying, ironically, 
 
 'My husband never does anything' gracious 
 without a motive. I wonder why he asked you 
 here to-night ? He is looking at us now. I can 
 feel his eyes upon me even when mine are 
 shut.* She shuddered, as she thus spoke with 
 concentrated bitterness. ' Hugh,' she continued, 
 excitedly. 'He did not know of our having 
 been engaged to each other before I married 
 him. He found this out through some kind 
 friend, and bitterly resents my having concealed 
 the fact from him.' 
 
 ' I hardly wonder at this. It would have been 
 far better for your own happiness to have had 
 no concealments from him. Why did you not 
 tell him V 
 
 ' I was afraid,' she whispered. ' He doubted
 
 A life's devotion. 1G5 
 
 my caring for him. And does any man reveal 
 his past career to his wife ? Oh, Hugh ! I have 
 so much I wish — I must say to you. But hush ! 
 here is Lillburue coming towards us.' 
 
 As slie spoke, in her great agitation and ill- 
 concealed emotion, she broke into shivers the 
 exquisite fan she nervously grasped in her hand. 
 Deeply moved at the sight of her undisguised 
 distress and fear of her husband. Captain Car- 
 michael said, hurriedl}^, 
 
 * Believe me, Mabel — Lady Lillburne,' he cor- 
 rected himself quickly, ' whatever you may wish 
 to say to me had better remain unsaid. Do not 
 think that I bear any resentment towards you 
 for the past, all that is long forgiven. But by 
 your own act we are eternally separated, yet I 
 am glad we have met once more, and that I see 
 
 you so prosperous, and ' he hesitated. ' I 
 
 trust happy, for most surely that is my wnsh for 
 you.' She looked up at him with a smile of 
 hope and gratitude. But if in her vain heart she 
 anticipated the shghtest renewal of friendship 
 between them, she was rapidl}' undeceived, for 
 he continued, gravel}', * And forgive me if I re- 
 mind you that your liappiness can never be
 
 166 A life's devotiox. 
 
 increased by discussiDg your husband's conduct 
 or your relations to him with others.' 
 
 These last words had been prompted by Cap- 
 tain Carmichael's intimate knowledge of Lady 
 Lillbnrne's character. He realised the dangers 
 and temptations to which she was sure to be 
 exposed in the future by her evident and un- 
 concealed want of affection for the man she had 
 married. As he spoke he stooped low over her 
 chair, his whole face expressing the deep com- 
 passion he felt for her, and the interest with 
 which she still inspired him. 
 
 To those who were observing this meeting 
 with the keenest cmiosity, Captain Carmichael's 
 manner had all the appearance of the most 
 ardent love-making, and so it was by the world 
 construed. But the world is occasionally wrong 
 in the kind judgments it forms of others. And in 
 this instance it most certainly was.
 
 16' 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ' It is pleasant to greet old friends again, after a 
 prolonged absence, Captain Carmichael. This 
 meeting must be a mutual gratification to both 
 you and Lady Lillburne.' 
 
 It was Lord Lillburne who spoke, in a still, 
 cold voice, from which it was impossible to 
 gather whether he addressed Hugh in sarcasm 
 or with a genial sense of his own words. 
 
 Lord Lillburne would not have been unpre- 
 possessing in appearance had his figure been 
 in better proportion, and the expression of his 
 countenance more cheerful. But the former 
 was heavy and thick-set, and there was ever a 
 settled gloom on his swarthy face and stern 
 handsome features, while from his dark, deep- 
 set eyes, overshadowed by thick, shaggy eye- 
 brows, there shot occasional gleams of suspicious, 
 sarcastic light, piercing through the "N'ory soul
 
 168 A life's devotion. 
 
 and marrow of those on whom his steel-like 
 glances fell. Possessing everything that this 
 world could confer, Lord Lillburne was, not- 
 withstanding, one of the most miserable men 
 who ever trod beneath fickle fortune's chequered 
 sky. He had become doubly so since his mar- 
 riage, to which he had looked forward with 
 ardent enthusiasm, as an event that was to 
 renew his broken dream in woman's truth and 
 constancy. 
 
 As he now cast a dark, suspicious glance first 
 at bis wife, and then at Hugh Carmichael, the 
 latter drew himself up and replied quietly, 
 
 ' The pleasure I have in meeting Lady Lill- 
 burne once more is owing to your invitation, 
 Lord Lillburne. But I feel I have already 
 trespassed too much on her time. And, as I 
 must be in the train early to-morrow, I shall not 
 incur the envy of her other guests any longer.' 
 
 ' You are not going away altogether ?' pleaded 
 Lady Lillburne. ' I have heard nothing yet of 
 your future movements, of Lord Ballina, and 
 your Httle god-daughter. You will come and 
 see me, will you not?* 
 
 Li her excitement, the unhappy Mabel could
 
 A life's DEVOTION'. 169 
 
 not diseemble the joy possessing her whole 
 being at once more being near him, who had 
 not only been her most ardent lover, but also 
 the truest friend she had ever known. 
 
 * I shall certainly pay you a visit before 1 
 rejoin my regiment. But I have business of 
 considerable importance to transact, and my 
 leave is one of favour and very short.' 
 
 He bowed and left her. 
 
 Kind, courteous, and forgiving as had been 
 Lis every word, a pang of irrepressible anguish 
 overpowered Lady Lillburne, as in silence she 
 watched Hugh's tall, soldier-like figure disappear 
 amongst the crowd of dancers. She realised 
 that the very calm of his words and manner 
 when meeting her after so long an absence, and 
 the assurance he had given her of his entire for- 
 giveness, were the truest proofs that all the 
 love he had once entertained for her was dead 
 — that love, the very recollection of which made 
 her heart throb with unavailing regrets, and for 
 which at this moment, if she could purchase it 
 back, she would willingly — at least so she thought 
 — surrender wealth, rank, position, everything 
 for which it had been bartered away. But lovo
 
 170 A life's devotiox. 
 
 is unfortunately the one possession, however 
 coveted, that even untold millions cannot pur- 
 chase, and none knew this better than Lady 
 Lillburne, as, forgetful of her husband's close 
 presence, the husband whom she all but ab- 
 horred, of whom she was abjectly afraid — forget- 
 ful of the guests she was neglecting, she clasped 
 her hands in silent misery, while she mentally 
 exclaimed, 
 
 * Hugh, Hugh, come back and deliver me 
 from my load of misery.' 
 
 ' Don't you think it would be advisable to 
 exercise some self-control, and not permit others 
 to witness an exhibition of feeling which is de- 
 cidedly uncomplimentary to your husband,' 
 coldly observed Lord Lillburne, seating himself 
 near his wife, and fixing his eyes jealously on 
 her. 
 
 * I — I don't understand you,' she replied, 
 petulantly. 
 
 'Don't you?' he said, ironically, placing a 
 retaining hand on her arm, as she made an 
 effort to rise and leave him. ' Wait a moment ; 
 it is refreshing to society to see husband and 
 wife conversing amicably together.'
 
 A life's DEVOTION'. 1 71 
 
 She turned and looked at him with wild, 
 pleading eyes, but they did not soften his pre- 
 sent humour, for he continued, in the same tone 
 of ironical banter, 
 
 * We had better understand each other once 
 for all, Mabel. When you sold yourself to me — ' 
 
 She winced as though he had struck her, and 
 recoiled from him ; but though, to a looker-on, 
 his hold on her arm might appear the loving 
 pressure of an uxorious husband, it was in truth 
 like a grip of iron — from it she lacked both 
 physical and mental courage to escape, and 
 sullenly resigned herself to his will as with a 
 mahcious smile he continued : 
 
 ' It is a pity that the repetition of your own 
 words should have such power to wound you. 
 But, notwithstanding, 1 fear I must remind you 
 of their import. When you make a purchase, 
 however valueless it may afterwards prove, it be- 
 comes your inalienable property by right of that 
 purchase. You are my property, Mabel, sworn 
 to fulfil my will in all things. I neither approve 
 nor intend that you should receive gentlemen 
 visitors. Do you understand?' he asked, sternly, 
 -clenching her arm more fu'mly.
 
 172 A life's devotion. 
 
 * Yes,' she replied, faintly ; adding, with a 
 little more spirit, ' Does this command include 
 himr 
 
 *Him?' he repeated, low and fm-iously. *Is it. 
 too much for you even to pronounce his name ? 
 No, you can receive him once. You might see 
 him every day, as far as he is or I am concerned ; 
 for, whatever your feelings may be, it is not 
 ■difficult to see he has ceased to care for the 
 woman who betrayed him for another's wealth. 
 But others might misconstrue any intimacy be- 
 tween you and your former lover. And it is a 
 husband's duty to guard his wife's reputation 
 against such misconceptions.' 
 
 He suddenly loosed her arm, as he uttered 
 these bitter words in tones of cold passion, and 
 rose. Then, as by an after-thought, he held out 
 his own, saying, 
 
 * The world, even now, must not mistake our 
 affectionate colloquy. I will lead you to the 
 refreshment-room.' 
 
 Without reply, she mechanically placed her 
 hand on his arm, and they moved on to the re- 
 freshment-room. Here after having offered her 
 an ice, which she passively accepted. Lord Lill-
 
 A life's devotion. 173- 
 
 burne left her, observing he would order the 
 supper-room to be opened, and inform the am- 
 bassador, who was to conduct her to supper, 
 Avhere she was to be found. 
 
 ' After all, Mr. Mowbray, your wonderful ex- 
 planation of an apparently thrilling story proves 
 to be a myth. Where have you ever seen such 
 devotion displayed by a husband, after several 
 years of matrimony, to his adored wife than that 
 of our host ? Lord and Lady Ballina are a model 
 couple,' observed a kindly matron to Mr. Mow- 
 bray, who was offering her refreshment. 
 
 ' They are a very wise couple, Mrs. Graham,* 
 he replied. ' For when in public they turn the 
 key on the proverbial family skeleton, instead 
 of dragging this ghastly domestic appendage 
 into society after them. If more would follow 
 their example, it would greatly add to the com- 
 fort of social life. Pardon me for leaving you, 
 but I have to arrange with Lady Lillburne 
 about the cotillon. Do you mind being left for 
 a few moments 'r 
 
 * Certainly not. I have arrived at years of 
 discretion, and can take care of myself.' Then, 
 holding up a warning hand, she added, ' Now,
 
 174 A life's devotion. 
 
 don't encourage gossip about poor Lady Lill- 
 burne ; that ^von't mend matters. It never 
 does.' 
 
 ' I promise to take your kindly advice/ he 
 answered, gravely. 
 
 Mr. Mowbray had known Lady Lillburne 
 before her marriage, and had proved his friend- 
 ship for her by warning her against breaking 
 off her engagement with Hugh Carmichael in 
 order to marry a man whose unhappy temper 
 and tragic antecedents were well known to Mr. 
 Mowbray. He had never himself been an 
 admirer of Lady Lillburne ; Ijut they had 
 always been and were still friends, and he 
 now approached her with feelings of unusual 
 commiseration, for her face expressed the 
 acutest mental suffering. It was with the 
 utmost respect and gentleness that he addressed 
 her, saying, 
 
 ' We were to have led the cotillon. Are 
 we still to be partners, Lady Lillburne ? AYhat 
 are your wishes ?' 
 
 * The cotillon,' she repeated, a little wildly. 
 * No, no ; I am too tired. I must attend to my
 
 A life's devotion. 175 
 
 guests. Will you arrange everything? The 
 presents are all in that room.' 
 
 There was a look of such despair in her eyes 
 that, hard man of the world as Mr. Mowbray 
 certainly was, he could not but be moved at 
 sight of her distress, aud he answered, kindly, 
 
 * Do not trouble yourself in the least. I will 
 see to it all.' 
 
 * Thank you ; you were always kind.' Then, 
 as though involuntarily, she exclaimed, * Oh ! if 
 1 had taken your advice, 1 should not be the 
 miserable woman I am.' 
 
 ' No, no, not quite that, Lady Lillburne. Old 
 recollections stir within you to-night. An un- 
 expected presence has disturbed you. This will 
 pass away. You will learn to forget. We all 
 do; some later, some sooner. You are young 
 and lovely. The whole world is at your feet.' 
 
 ' The world,' she repeated, dreamily. * I feel 
 to hate it to-night; and he will not let me 
 forget. I Avas almost happy this evening, aud 
 grateful to him, and how has it all ended?' she 
 added, passionately, but had time to say no 
 more, for supper had been announced, and the
 
 176 A life's DEVOTION. 
 
 exalted personage who Avas to escort her ap- 
 proached, and, offering his arm, led her away, 
 pouring meanwhile a torrent of compliments 
 into her heedless ears on the brilliant success of 
 her first ball. 
 
 * Poor creature I' thought Mr. Mowbray, as he 
 returned to Mrs. Desmond, ' she did indeed 
 commit a woful error when, loving another, she 
 placed her destiny in the hands of tliat gloomy 
 misanthrope, Lillburne, who is daily getting 
 more eccentric.' 
 
 It was broad daylight when, sick of passive- 
 ly watching the eccentric evolutions of the 
 cotillon, and wearied out with listening to the 
 monotonous drone of its accompanying music, 
 Lady Lillburne at last found refuge in the re- 
 tirement of her own apartments, where, tearing 
 the jewels from her head and dress, she cast 
 herself on a sofa, and, burying her face in its 
 downy cushions, gave way to a passion of 
 convulsive weeping. 
 
 Oh, impotence of unavaih'ng remorse I Oh ! 
 bitterness of those tears we shed over sorrow of 
 our own making I 
 
 Mabel Lillburne was naturally a joyous.
 
 A life's devotion. 177 
 
 pleasure-loving spirit. When she accepted 
 Captain Carmichael, she was as much in love 
 as so shallow a nature as hers could be ; but at 
 that time his future prospects were as brilliant 
 as she could desire. She had never contem- 
 plated making a poor marriage, and, when the 
 tide of events turned against her lover, she re- 
 coiled with horror from the existence of self- 
 denial and comparative poverty that a marriage 
 with Hugh would entail, deeming that 
 
 ' Lovo in a hut, with water and a crust, 
 Is — Love forgive us ! — cinders, ashes, and dust.' 
 
 She failed, at the same moment, to take into 
 consideration that 
 
 ' Love in a palace is perhaps at last 
 More grievous torment than n hermit's fast.* 
 
 She was to a certain extent now realising 
 this uncomfortable fact. And her tears fell 
 faster and faster as she recalled to memory her 
 husband's sardonic words, 'that Hugh no longer 
 cared for the woman who had betrayed him for an- 
 other's wealth' — words she felt were cruelly true. 
 As she heard Lord Lillburno^s step approaching 
 her room, she hastily diied her eyes and rapidly 
 undressed. He should not have the gratification 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 A life's devotion. 
 
 of witnessing a sorrow and mortification partial- 
 ly occasioned by his harsh words and stern 
 restrictions of her evening's amusement. For, 
 though she had apparently been so submissive 
 to his will, she furiously rebelled against it. 
 
 She was already snugly in bed, pretending 
 to be asleep, when, still in his evening attire, he 
 entered the room, and, approaching the bed- 
 side, stood over her, holding a lighted candle in 
 his hand. Grimly he gazed down on his pretty 
 wife as he passed the candle to and fro before 
 her eyes ; but she kept them unflinchingly 
 closed — her simulation of sleep was perfect. 
 The long auburn lashes resting on her soft, 
 flushed cheeks never quivered. IShe was accus- 
 tomed to Lord Lillburne's present eccentric 
 manoeuvre ; he had frequent recourse to it when 
 certain that she was not asleep, and he wished 
 now to force her into a conversation she desired 
 to avoid, having a presentiment it might prove 
 eminently disagreeable. 
 
 Though Lady Lillburne had no real strength 
 of character, she had a considerable fund of 
 obstinacy, which is unfortunately frequently its 
 substitute. And, being gifted with some humour,
 
 A life's devotion. 179 
 
 Lord Lillburne's present movements changed 
 the melancholy current of her thoughts. They 
 80 strongly resembled those of the midnight 
 burglar that they rather amused her than other- 
 wise, and then she had the supreme delight of 
 knowing that her immobiHty and silence aggra- 
 vated him intensely. 
 
 Once, on an occasion like the present, he had 
 been impelled by anger at her obstinacy to give 
 her a slight shake, when she started up with 
 such an unearthly shriek as not only to alarm 
 him, but to terrify all those who slept in their 
 immediate neighbourhood ; and this stratagem 
 had led to such uncomfortable queries the fol- 
 lowing morning, that she entertained no fears of 
 his reverting to this mode of arousing her at- 
 tention, while the consciousness she had of his 
 being irritated beyond measure at her obstinate 
 silence was very pleasing to Lady Lillburne. 
 
 That he was irritated he soon made apparent, 
 for, placing the candle down, he noisily dragged 
 a chair close to the bedside, and said, loudly, 
 
 * 1 know you are awake, Mabel. But, though 
 you may choose to keep your eyes shut, you 
 can't close your ears, and I wish you distinctly 
 
 n2
 
 180 A life's devotion. 
 
 to understand I am dissatisfied with your 
 conduct to-night. You desire'^'the world to 
 consider me a tyrant. You posed this even- 
 ing as the persecuted wife. Now, remember, 
 unless you so behave in public as to meet my 
 approval, we leave London at once, never to 
 return. Do you hear?' he shouted, infuriated 
 by receiving no response to this threat beyond 
 a deep, long-drawn sigh, indicative of the pro- 
 foundest slumber, notwithstanding Lady Lill- 
 burne's heart was beating so tumultuously that 
 the white sheet covering her fair form was per- 
 ceptibly stirred by the quick pulsations of her 
 heart. 
 
 Lord Lillburne, satisfied she had heard his 
 threat and that it would take effect, rose w^ith 
 violence, upsetting the chair, and left the room, 
 banging the door violently after him, thereby 
 to indicate his total disbelief in his wife's 
 somnolency. No sooner had he disappeared, 
 than, starting up, she exclaimed, passionately, 
 
 * I wish I w^as dead !' 
 
 This, however, was but the expression of 
 petulant feeling; nothing did pleasure-loving 
 Mabel desire less than death. But to leave
 
 A life's devotion. 181 
 
 London ; to return to that dreary northern 
 -castle, where she had ah'eady nearly died of 
 ennui ; to be once more shut up alone with such 
 a husband! At all costs, this must be avoid- 
 ed. She would learn to disguise her feelings — 
 to bear patiently a certain curtailment of her 
 liberty. She must practise the art of dissimu- 
 lation, and endeavour to deceive him as well as 
 ehe could. 
 
 Mabel Lillburne was, as we have said, ob- 
 stinate, frivolous, and vain. Her lovely face 
 was not the index of a pure and lofty soul ; yet, 
 had she married a man she loved, it is possible 
 all might have been different. Unfortunatelj^, 
 Lord Lillburne, though he adored his wife, did 
 not possess the qualities required for guiding 
 such a disposition, and, moreover, he was em- 
 bittered against her by an unfortunate discovery 
 accidentally made, causing him ever after to 
 treat her with jealousy and suspicion.
 
 182 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 It was frequently remarked of Lord Lillburne 
 that he Avas a born misanthrope. This, how- 
 ever, was an error on the part of those who so 
 judged. He had been, if a thoughtful, rather 
 a silent boy, happy and joyous-hearted in his 
 youth, until, suddenly, a great sorrow darkened 
 both his youthful joyousness and his whole 
 after-life. 
 
 It was after going to Eton that he made the 
 unhappy discovery that completely changed his 
 character, and left its undying mark upon a 
 naturally grave and deeply-sensitive nature. 
 The taunts and jeers of another boy — with 
 whom he had a standing quarrel, and who was 
 jealous of the superior position he held in their 
 form — enHghtened him to the .unhappy fact that 
 the mother he adored and all but worshipped 
 as an angel of purity was the divorced wife
 
 A life's devotion. 183 
 
 of another, a mother who had deserted her 
 offspring. 
 
 In the first smart of indignation and hiimiHa- 
 tion at being scoffingly made aware of what 
 had hitherto been so rehgiously kept from his 
 knowledge, the unfortunate boy furiously as- 
 sailed and all but killed his spiteful antagonist. 
 But, as he recovered, the threat of expulsion for 
 this assault was not carried into effect. All felt 
 great excuse was to be made for one who had 
 received such bitter provocation. 
 
 After this event, however, the character of 
 the boy wholly altered. He avoided his com- 
 panions and gave himself up entirely to study. 
 At home he became morose and taciturn, his 
 joyousness had fled with the discovery he 
 had made. He had often wondered why his 
 parents led such a retired life, what was the 
 cause of his mother's frequent tears, and often 
 deep dejection of spirits — phases of emotion and 
 feeling which appeared always to irritate his 
 father intensely. He knew the cause now of what 
 had hitherto been a mystery. In former days 
 he would strive to console his mother by soft 
 caresses and tender words ; after tlie discovery
 
 184 A life's devotion. 
 
 made to him, his manner towards her under- 
 went a sad change. In his heart he did not love 
 her less, but she had brought disgrace upon 
 the family — upon him. He was proud, and re- 
 sented this humiliating circumstance, and, though 
 ever respectful in his conduct towards her, he 
 became cold and reserved. 
 
 Bitterly she recognized this change, quickly 
 divined the cause, and it broke a heart long 
 filled with sorrow and repentance for a terrible 
 sin. She had for some time been ailing, and 
 finally succumbed to her mental and physical 
 sufferings. One day when the proud son en- 
 tered his mother's room he discovered her on 
 her knees before hev j^rie-Bieu, her head bowed 
 down on an open book. He was about to retire 
 when, softened by her attitude and with sudden 
 reproach for his own hardness, he came nearer, 
 and silently waited until her devotions were 
 concluded. But struck by her long immobility, 
 the rigidity of her still lovely figure, he became 
 alarmed, and in a low voice murmured, as he 
 laid his hand on her shoulder, 
 
 * Mother, dear mother.' 
 
 Alas! too late for endearments now, too late
 
 A life's devotion. 185 
 
 to make amends for past coldness and harsh 
 judgment. His mother was dead ! In a moment 
 be realised the appalling fact, and his cry of 
 despair rang wildly through the house. When 
 they lifted Lady Lillburne up, they found her 
 lips were pressed on those words of forgiveness 
 pronounced by divine lips to an erring woman. 
 
 The depth of the young man's grief, who at 
 this time was nearly nineteen, his bitter self-up- 
 braidings were made known to none. With his 
 father, a man of violent and ungovernable tem- 
 per, he had never got on ^vell, and their constant 
 disputes had tended to aggravate the misery of 
 Lady Lillburne's life. When she was no more, 
 father and son agreed they would be better 
 apart, and, soon after his mother's funeral, the 
 latter started for Germany, there to complete 
 his education with a view to entering the 
 diplomatic service. 
 
 When Lord Lillburne's death ultimately oc- 
 curred, they had not met for years. The sou, 
 engaged and much interested in diplomacy, 
 never cared to visit England except for a very 
 ehort period ; but on hearing of this event he was 
 caturally forced to return to his native country
 
 186 A life's devotiox. 
 
 and take possession of bis vast inheritance and 
 his father's accumulated wealth. It was with 
 no pleasurable emotions, however, that he found 
 himself again in England as a permanent resi- 
 dent. He disliked gaieties of every description, 
 and it was with a stinging remembrance of 
 past sorrow and a sense of humihation that 
 he entered London society. For his mother's 
 memory was enshrined in his heart, notwith- 
 standing the pain attached to her history, which 
 was known to all, and, misanthropical, stern, and 
 gloomy of habit as he had become since her 
 death, such brooding recollections as he indulged 
 in did not tend to make him less so. In London 
 he was only known by reputation, but this was 
 not an irremediable drawback to his being wel- 
 comed most warmly. For in his dark, rugged 
 way he was decidedly handsome, and, moreover, 
 enormously wealthy. Consequently he soon 
 found himself the centre of most un desired 
 attentions. 
 
 He smiled grimly at the respect and honours 
 lavished upon him by the world in general, and 
 chaperons in particular, for he had not only no 
 intention but no desire for matrimony. Finally,
 
 A life's devotion. 187 
 
 anxious mothers, desirous of brilliantly establish- 
 ing their daughters, voted such a fortress as he 
 proved to be too impregnable for maternal 
 attack, and left him in peace, retaining the con- 
 solatory conviction that Lord Lillburne was a 
 woman-hater. This, however, was not the case, 
 but he had no faith in their constancy. If his 
 mother had failed, who was to be trusted? He 
 looked upon all women with cold disregard or 
 profound suspicion, until he met Miss Melville at 
 a country-house, where they were thrown con- 
 stantly together, and, whether this was by acci- 
 dent or intention, the result was the same. He 
 fell desperately in love with her. Her beauty, 
 her humorous audacity of speech and manner, 
 her vivacity at once attracted the attention of 
 this silent, saturnine man. He was bewildered 
 by her coquetries, dazzled and fettered, before 
 he had recognised in the slightest degree the 
 power she had gained over him. 
 
 When he became aware of it, unaccustomed 
 to control his feelings, ignorant of her former 
 engagement, which had not long been broken off, 
 he at once proposed for her, though she was the 
 opposite to him in character, mind, and tastes.
 
 188 A life's devotion. 
 
 But an impulsive man of mature age, desperate- 
 ly in love for the first time, rarely stops to cal- 
 culate on the possibilities of the future, or give 
 heed to the whispered dictates of prudence. 
 
 The suddenness of this proposal, though she 
 had worked her best to accelerate it, surprised 
 and frightened Mabel Melville, and for a moment 
 she hesitated. The remembrance of a past love 
 still lingered with her. It had at one time been 
 so sweet. It was such a short time since Hugh 
 Carmichael's words of passionate pleading had 
 fallen on her ears in tenderest accents. 
 
 Perhaps, (at least she averred this to others) 
 had he not so proudly and instantaneously ac- 
 cepted her selfish dismissal, she might have 
 recalled it, — words wholly false. As it was, 
 her heart beat with fear lest the golden prize 
 within her grasp should slip through her fingers ; 
 for, observing her hesitation. Lord Lillburne 
 said, in a voice of quivering passion, 
 
 ' You hesitate. If you love another, or do not 
 love me, for God's sake do not accept my offer.' 
 
 ' I have not said that I love another,' she re- 
 plied, looking up at him with mingled coquetry 
 and alarm.
 
 A life's devotion. 189 
 
 'Then you are mine,' he rephecl, quickly 
 gi'asping her in his arms and placing his lips to 
 hers. 
 
 As he held her in his embrace she slightly 
 shuddered, and the hps he touched were cold as 
 ice ; for Mabel Melville knew her fate was sealed 
 — sealed by an acted lie on her part. 
 
 But this eventful evening was succeeded by 
 days of such sparkling life ; the chain by which 
 she had bound herself was so gilded and enam- 
 elled by the costly gifts Lord Lillburne's pas- 
 sionate adoration showered down upon her, that 
 at fii'st she did not recognise its weight. 
 
 Then her triumph in having conquered the 
 supposed unconquerable one ; the delight of her 
 worldly old mother, and the warm, if somewhat 
 hypocritical congratulations of her youthful con- 
 temporaries, on the brilhant prospects awaiting 
 her ; all combined to make Mabel Melville believe 
 she was a fortunate woman. Quickly was this 
 behef dispelled. Madly in love— jealous, even 
 during the engagement — Lord Lillburiie, once 
 married, and with brooding memories of his 
 mother's history ever harboured in recollection, 
 determined to share his wife's society with none ;
 
 190 A life's devotion. 
 
 and after a lengthened tour abroad took up his 
 residence at the family seat in Northumberland. 
 This was a stern, frowning old castle, where his 
 unfortunate and erring mother had spent a few 
 miserable years, and where she had died so 
 tragically. 
 
 It seems strange that he should have brought 
 his bride to a home where the black shadow of a 
 sad past still lingered in his mind. But Lord 
 Lillburne was an eccentric man in all his actions, 
 and when Lady Melville proposed, with a view 
 to her second daughter's settlement in Hfe, and in 
 hopes of another brilhant marriage taking place 
 in their famil^^ that one of dear Mabel's sisters 
 should accompany her to Belfort Castle, Lord 
 Lillburne curtly refused, without giving any 
 reason for this uncourteous refusal. 
 
 Then for the first time Lady Lillburne's heart 
 failed her. The prospect of passing a long, 
 northern winter — of spending dreary months 
 alone, with one whose jealous temper had 
 already alarmed her, caused the young wife 
 many uncomfortable apprehensions. She hated 
 being in the country, and was devoid of all in- 
 terest in those pursuits which make it so loved
 
 A life's devotion. 191 
 
 and enjoyed by healthier and less frivolous 
 minds. 
 
 But though Lady Lillburne was not a clever 
 woman, and had received but a superficial 
 education, she had some wit and considerable 
 tact, useful gifts enabling her for some time to 
 disguise the hopeless ennui by which she was 
 consumed, and her disgust at the uncongenial 
 existence she forced herself so smilingly to 
 endure. And, notwithstanding she panted to 
 indulge in all those excitements and pleasures 
 she had looked forward to her marriage ac- 
 cording her, not the slightest sign of disappoint- 
 ment was visible in her manner, as long as Lord 
 Lillburne remained affectionate and good- 
 tempered. If his jealousy annoyed and bored 
 her, these sentiments were not made apparent. 
 She desired to propitiate her husband, for he 
 had promised to take her to London the ensuing 
 spring, when she was to be presented in all the 
 glory of her newly-acquired diamonds, and to 
 parade the Park in the barouche built express- 
 ly for her by his loving commands, and for 
 which the whole of England was being ran- 
 sacked for suitable horses. To have a splendid
 
 192 A life's devotion. 
 
 equipage of her own had been one of Mabel 
 Melville's fondest dreams. And all these pleas- 
 ures, though delayed for the time, she could 
 look forward to enjoying before many months 
 had elapsed. 
 
 But an unfortunate day arrived when Lord 
 Lillburne, by what means she never knew, was 
 made acquainted with her former attachment 
 and engagement to Hugh Carmichael, a secret 
 she had so carefully concealed from him that, 
 with the obtuseness an absorbing passion en- 
 genders, he believed himself to be her first 
 affection. When so cruelly undeceived, all the 
 darkest side of his character came into play, 
 and his jealousy, once aroused, never slumbered 
 again, while the mortifying reflection that he 
 had been married for his wealth and position, 
 and not for love, drove him almost frantic. 
 What security was there for a wife's fidelity 
 under such circumstances? 
 
 Black suspicion, love, and jealousy on on© 
 side, and fear and increasing aversion on the 
 other, are not sentiments conducive to matri- 
 monial harmony or domestic happiness, and 
 Lady Lillburne literally cowered beneath the
 
 A life's DEVOTION. 193 
 
 words of scathing contempt hurled at her by 
 her husband, when he discovered she had not 
 only concealed her former attachment from him, 
 but left him in the belief she had never cared 
 for anyone previously to her marriage. For 
 days after he became acquainted with these 
 facts he rarely addressed her. But, notwith- 
 standing the sternness of his manner, his love 
 remained unabated, and he was ever hoping to 
 receive some sign of regret and repentance on 
 her part for having so cruelly deceived him. 
 Perhaps this might have been accorded had he 
 been a little more forbearing. But Lady Lill- 
 burne was a moral coward, she had no love for 
 her husband. His jealousy did not flatter her, 
 and she was terrified by his violence. The 
 more so as she was aware he watched all her 
 actions, and seemed perfectly acquainted with all 
 her movements, however carefull}'- she might 
 attempt to conceal them. Under this vigilant 
 espionage, she became nervous and depressed 
 and wholly cowed. 
 
 At last, one day, when ho happened to bo 
 called away to a distance, unable to bear tho 
 weight of misery sapping away all the springs 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 194 A life's devotion. 
 
 of her youthful spirits, in aa evil moment she 
 eat down and wrote to Hugh Carmichael, asking 
 him why he had ignored her former letters, and 
 imploring him to write to her, saying that 
 punishment had followed swiftly on her w^ant of 
 faith to him, and that she was in sore need of 
 the advice of a friend. Would he be that friend ? 
 And a good deal more, in the same miserable 
 strain, she poured out to her former lover. Not 
 satisfied with this imwifely exposure of her 
 domestic troubles, she then wrote to her sister 
 and, after giving an account of the quarrel she 
 had had with her husband, ended with these 
 words : 
 
 * Lila, let my fate be a warning to yon, and 
 do not barter away your happiness for even 
 the most brilHant offer of marriage. To be tied 
 to a tyrant you cannot love is worse than death. 
 — Your affectionate and most unhappy sister.' 
 
 Just as Lady Lillburne had concluded writing 
 these ill-advised letters, visitors were announced, 
 and, careless at all times, she left the one to her 
 sister open on her blotting-book, the other to 
 Hugh she hastily directed without closing the 
 envelope. Her husband, as she thought, had left
 
 A life's devotion. 195 
 
 home for the day to shoot ou his moors. No- 
 body else was hkely to enter her boudoir. Her 
 visitors, she was sure, would not remain long, 
 indeed she would make it her business they 
 should not. 
 
 Unfortunately, however, these ladies, both 
 mother and daughter, were equally dull of 
 apprehension, and, being so, were naturally 
 unaware of their powerful faculty of boring 
 others. On they sat, unmindful of Lady Lill- 
 burne's yawns and monosyllabic replies to their 
 remarks. The subject they had finally intro- 
 duced for discussion was the newly-invented 
 mode of hatching chickens by means of the 
 incubator, which they pronounced to be an in- 
 terference in the ways of Providence. Wholly 
 uninterested at all times in such subjects, Lady 
 ,Lillburne was no longer even pretending to 
 listen to their conversation, for she had heard 
 her husband's voice in angry altercation with 
 one of the servants, and, with a sickening feel- 
 ing of fear, she remembered the letters she 
 had so thoughtlessly left exposed to view. 
 Her visitors went prosing on, but they might 
 as well have addressed a deaf woman. Fin- 
 
 o2
 
 19G A life's devotion. 
 
 ally, offended at her inattention, they were huffily 
 rising, when the door opened abruptly, and 
 Lord Lillburne entered, but so temfied was 
 the expression of Lady Lillburne's face as he 
 appeared that her visitors remained rooted 
 to the spot where they stood. 
 
 When Lord Lillburne was much agitated or 
 seriously angry, he occasionally stammered, and 
 that he was at this moment labouring under 
 strong feelings of displeasure and repressed 
 passion was evident, as, ignoring the presence of 
 his wife's visitors, though generally punctiliously 
 civil, he came up to her saying, 
 
 * Are you — you av/are the post leaves in ten 
 minutes, and you have left letters still un- 
 directed on your table ? I have them here. 1 
 am sure Mrs. Dallas will excuse you, these letters 
 are so very important,' he laughed, harshly and 
 sardonically. 
 
 Mrs. Dallas, who had already heard rumours 
 of Lord and Lady Lillburne not being on the 
 best of terms, was not so stupid as not to deem 
 it expedient to beat a retreat, and, bidding Lady 
 Lillburne a hasty farewell, she glided towards 
 the door.
 
 A life's devotion. 197 
 
 Lady Lillburne, with a view of escapiug her 
 husband's marital wrath, was about to do the 
 same when he called her sternly back. Though 
 trembling in every limb, she dared not disobey, 
 and, closing the door on Mrs. Dallas, slowly 
 returned. 
 
 ' These are in your handwriting,' he said, 
 sternly, holding out the fatal missives and 
 striking them violently with his disengaged 
 hand. * If you dared, you would say no. Your 
 letter to Captain Carmichael I have not opened. 
 That lying open on your table I could not fail 
 to see. I have no doubt the other runs in the 
 same strain. But, as I do not choose that the 
 proof of your shame should be published abroad, 
 I now desire you to burn both these letters.' 
 
 He handed them to her as he spoke, and with 
 limp and shaking fingers she did as he com- 
 manded. Nor was she sorry to see the indis- 
 creet emanations of her dissatisfied spirit 
 destroyed. When she had penned these wail- 
 ing missives, beyond a weak, purposeless 
 craving for sympathy in the troubles she had 
 brought upon herself, she had no very defined 
 reasons for revealing them to otliers. She was
 
 198 A life's devotion. 
 
 quite coDScious of still prizing at their fullest 
 value all the material advantages she had gained 
 by a wealthy marriage, advantages she was 
 wholly unaccustomed to, for her parents were 
 wretchedly poor, and Mabel had always hated 
 the humiliating shifts to which their poverty 
 had often forced her to have recourse. At the 
 present moment, her knowledge of the extent 
 of marital authority being rather hazy, she was 
 in terror lest her husband should send her back 
 to the home of her girlhood, and to the poverty 
 and petty economies to escape from which she 
 had married him. 
 
 Having burnt the ofifending letters as desired, 
 she approached Lord Lillburne, and said, in a 
 faint voice of contrition, — for she did experience 
 some slight feeling of self-reproach as she 
 recalled to memory his many acts of past 
 generosity and devotion, — 
 
 ' Oh ! forgive me, Lillburne, forgive me.' 
 ' Forgive you V he repeated, scornfully. 
 * Forgive a woman who is not ashamed to ac- 
 knowledge to her young sister, to her former 
 lover, that she has sold herself for gold? 
 Faugh ! you are more contemptible than those
 
 A life's DEVOTION. 199 
 
 poor creatures whose presence you would uo 
 doubt consider contamination.' 
 
 He thrust her fiercely back as he spoke, and 
 as she sank into a chair, sobbing wildly, he 
 stood over her, saying, 
 
 ' Listen, I came home to-day deeming that I 
 had possibly been too harsh with you for a past 
 deceit. I remembered that, after all, you were 
 but a woman, with all a woman's weaknesses,' 
 — his tone was intensely bitter : it softened as 
 he continued, ' Then I reflected that perhaps in 
 the course of time the love I still had for you 
 might provoke yours.' 
 
 ' And so it will, Lillburne. Believe me, trust 
 me ' 
 
 * Never, after this day's work,' ho rephed, 
 sternly. ' As you have sown so shall you reap. 
 But remember, if you ever give me cause to 
 suspect you in the future, if you ever rouse my 
 jealousy by word or deed, I shall as assuredly 
 shoot him who is the cause of it as I would the 
 dog that bites me. You are warned.' 
 
 He turned from her, though she was weep- 
 ing with hysterical and choking sobs, and left 
 the room.
 
 200 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 For some time after the unhappy scene that had 
 taken place between Lord and Lady Lillburne, 
 and which considerably widened the breach al- 
 ready existing, her terror of him was so intensi- 
 fied that she became passively acquiescent to 
 all his commands, sternly and coldly issued, and 
 made not the slightest piotest when the edict 
 went forth that, instead of passing the season 
 in London, they were to go to America for 
 a year, though the prospect of such an exile 
 from England was most distasteful to her. But 
 when on their return from this tour she found 
 the passive obedience she accorded him seemed 
 to fail in gaining his confidence, that the ques- 
 tion of their going to London was never even 
 mooted, she fell into a state of complete moral 
 and physical apathy.
 
 A life's devotion. 201 
 
 It is aveiTed that the poor jaded horse which 
 plods in dreary strides round the household well 
 often pines and dies after a short time spent in 
 this monotonous work. Such might have been 
 Mabel Lillburne's fate had she been endowed 
 with a stronger character. As it was, she simply 
 yawned away the tedium of her days. She 
 was a woman without one noble aspiration or 
 any high aims. She was not ungenerous, indeed 
 was ready to give money to any charity brought 
 to her notice. But to visit the poor and afflicted 
 had never entered her thoughts, and when this 
 w^as suggested by the clergyman of her village 
 she smiled at the possibility of her doing such a 
 thing. Most of her time was passed in ordering 
 and inspecting her numerous toilettes, and in 
 speculating on those social triumphs that were 
 to be hers during tiie ensuing season, though 
 she sometimes trembled lest Lord Lillburne 
 should change his mind and keep her a prisoner 
 in the country for an indefinite period. 
 
 And how she hated the country, and how weary 
 she was of this gloomy old castle ! Indeed, had it 
 not been for the tremors and starts occasioned 
 by the violence and uncertainty of her husband's
 
 202 A life's devotion. 
 
 temper, and the constant changes these out- 
 bursts entailed in their domestic establishment, 
 the current of Lady Lillbume's existence would 
 have wholly stagnated ; but these fiery breezes 
 tended to keep up a vigorous if unpleas- 
 ant agitation in her daily life. At times 
 she entertained fears that Lord Lillburne was 
 not always quite sane. Certainly his actions 
 occasionally did not appear to be in accord- 
 ance with perfect sanity ; yet they were but 
 the eccentric evidence of a man's desperate, 
 despairing love for a wife he knew did not 
 care for him. 
 
 One day when she was half asleep on the 
 sofa, looking very pretty, with her auburn hair 
 scattered in confusion about her, and a French 
 novel held limply in her hand, he came noise- 
 lessly up to her side, and, as she pretended not 
 to see him, rudely snatched the book from her 
 grasp, and flung it to the other end of the room, 
 where, coming into contact with a valuable 
 piece of china, it shivered into pieces. So rude 
 an announcement of his presence caused Lady 
 Lillburne to spring up into full wakefulness, and 
 she exclaimed, fretfully,
 
 A life's devotion. 205 
 
 * Oh, Lillburne, do be more gentle. You TV'ill 
 certainly cause me to have a heart complaint 
 one of these days.' 
 
 * To have a heart complaint one must possess 
 that organ,' he repeated, grimly; ' and can't you 
 employ your time better than by the perusal of 
 such trash f 
 
 As she made no rejoinder to these remarks, 
 he gazed down upon her with a love the bitter- 
 ness of his spirit wholly disguised, and asked, 
 harshly, 
 
 * Have you forgotten what this day is the 
 anniversary of?' 
 
 She looked up as though endeavouring to 
 pierce his thoughts, and replied, deprecatingly, 
 
 * I have not forgotten. It is our wedding- 
 day. We have been married four years. Oh I 
 Lillburne, bo a little kinder to me.' 
 
 'And so I intend to be, and in the way you 
 will best appreciate. Yes, it is our wedding- 
 day, Mabel. The day on which you sold your- 
 self to me. It is only fair you should receive a 
 fitting remcmbraucc of the sacrifice you made 
 on that day to me of your fair self.' 
 
 Lord Lillburnc's voice had been risincr in in-
 
 204 A life's devotion. 
 
 tensity of passion, and, as he ceased speaking, 
 be flung into her lap an open jewel case from 
 which escaped a ruby necklace and earrings of 
 inestimable value. 
 
 For one moment Lady Lillburne's blue eyes 
 glistened at the sight of the jewels. They were 
 the only precious stones she did not possess, and 
 she had once expressed a strong desire that he 
 should give her this imrure. But vain, frivolous, 
 capricious as she was, even Mabel was not 
 proof against the insulting manner and words 
 accompanying this rich gift, and thinking to 
 triumph over her husband, who had thus acted, 
 she replaced the jewels in their case, and, 
 holding them towards him, said, not without 
 dignity, 
 
 * A gift so offered can have no value. You 
 can return these to the jeweller.' 
 
 But even as she spoke there was regret in 
 Mabel's heart at this sacrifice made to wounded 
 dignity, and Lord Lillburne knew it, for, 
 bursting into a scornful laugh, he repHed, 
 
 ' Do you think I believe you ? Do you dare 
 even pretend to refuse these gifts, testimonies of 
 my wealth for which alone you married me V
 
 A life's devotion. 205- 
 
 He placed the jewel-case on the table near her. 
 ' A husband cannot command love, though he 
 may obedience. Your superfine scruple re- 
 specting my gift Avill have disappeared, I do 
 not doubt, by to-morrow evening, when I ex- 
 pect you to wear these rubies at the dinner we 
 give the neighbours.' 
 
 And Lady Lillburne did wear them, the ad- 
 miration they elicited largely compensating for 
 any loss of self-respect she may have sustained 
 in so doing. 
 
 Shortly after this, when she was beginning to 
 lose all hope of going to London — for Easter was 
 fast approaching, and Lord Lillburne had re- 
 mained imperturbably silent on this subject — he 
 suddenly announced his intention of imme- 
 diately removing there. 
 
 He had had considerable difficulty in making 
 up his mind to re-open his town house closed 
 for so many years, for he dreaded passing a 
 season in London, where necessarily his wife 
 must enter into society, and where her move- 
 ments might be less under his control. But a 
 petulant remark on her part finally decided 
 him. One day when he had irritated her more
 
 206 A life's devotion. 
 
 than usual by cross-examination as to the mode 
 in which she had passed an entire day out of 
 doors and invisible, she had tauntingly ob- 
 served, 
 
 * I have been sitting in the park. The deer 
 and sheep amongst which I have been striving 
 to kill time, and which are the only society this 
 gloomy place affords, cannot surely give you 
 cause for jealousy and unceasing suspicions. If 
 you wish to prove they have no foundation, let 
 us go to London. If it pleases you to act the 
 part of a detective, such an occupation will 
 there afford you considerably more excitement.' 
 
 It was strange, but this biting speech effected 
 what subtler arguments or tenderer requests 
 would have failed to effect. His misery. Lord 
 Lillburne thought, could scarcely be increased, 
 and his jealousy might be set for ever at rest if 
 Mabel behaved with wifely discretion in society. 
 In every case he desired to test to what extent 
 his jealousy of the wife he silently adored was 
 justifiable. Perhaps she might give him no cause 
 for jealousy, and then, if this proved the case, 
 what possibilities of happiness were still open to 
 him ! So to London this ill-assorted pair migrated.
 
 A life's devotion. 207 
 
 It was a curious chain of circumstances that 
 had brought Hugh Carraichael to the great 
 centre of civiHzation almost simultaneously 
 with the Lillburnes' return there. The fortu- 
 nate event that had wafted him to England was 
 most unexpected. A lawyer's oversight, a flaw 
 in his uncle's will but lately discovered, had 
 constituted him heir of two-thirds of the pro- 
 perty he might justly consider himself to have 
 been defrauded of. 
 
 Hugh was not over exhilarated by his sudden 
 accession to wealth. Devoted to the army, and 
 with the prospect of war with Russia close at 
 hand, he was determined to cling to his pro- 
 fession and not lose the chance of distinguishing 
 himself that he so ardently desired. Five years 
 had elapsed since Lady Ballina's death, during 
 which time his regiment had been quartered 
 first at Gibraltar, and subsequently at Malta, 
 where it now was. Ever since they had quitted 
 Ireland, Lord BaUina and Shelah had passed 
 their winters and autumns at tlicse places, in 
 order to be near Hugh. In the summer mouths 
 they roamed about Switzerland or northern 
 Italy, where he always joined them when on
 
 208 A life's devotion. 
 
 leave. Thus, constantly in each other's society, 
 the affection akeady existing between the young 
 officer and 8helah was ever on the increase. He 
 often asked himself how it would fare with both 
 when the inevitable day of separation arrived — 
 a subject he never dared approach with her. 
 For though, beneath sunny climes, she had re- 
 gained her health, she was yet far from strong, 
 never having completely recovered from the 
 shock occasioned by her mother's death, and he 
 was well aware that the slightest hint of their 
 future separation would cause her untold sorrow. 
 
 Second only to her father did Shelah love her 
 godfather. For her father, the child's affection 
 seemed to have intensified since her mother's 
 death. She appeared to have amalgamated in 
 one all the love she had formerly bestowed on 
 each separately. As thougli to account for this 
 accession of devotion lavished upon her father, 
 she observed one day, soon after their arrival 
 at Malta, to Captain Carmichael, who was the 
 recipient of all her confidences, 
 
 * You see, Mr. Hugh, he must miss dear 
 mamma so much more than either of us. You 
 and I have each other. But when I try to
 
 A life's devotion. 209 
 
 comfort him by saying, " She is happy in heaven 
 now with the angels," he only looks at me so 
 sadly, and answers, " I want her here, Shelah, 
 with me. There are plenty of angels in heaven. 
 They might have spared her to me !" Oh, why 
 did she leave iis V exclaimed the girl, bursting 
 into a passion of weeping ; and as the young- 
 man gathered her up in his arms, trying to con- 
 sole her, she looked up through her tears, say- 
 ing, ' What should I do without you ? for papa 
 seems always to like better being by himself. 
 To think of mamma, I suppose. Oh, Mr. Hugh, 
 will you promise always — always to love me, 
 even when I am not quite good V 
 
 ' I shall always love you, darling Shelah, 
 even,' he added, smiling, ' when you are very 
 naughty. Of this ever being the case, however, 
 I have no fear. You see,' he continued, con- 
 fidingly, ' I have nobody else in the whole 
 world to love, tlierefore I must needs love 
 3^ou.' 
 
 The little face brightened with pleasure at 
 these words, and then slightly clouded over, as 
 she said, 
 
 ' But you must not marry, Mr. llugli. You 
 
 VOL. I. r
 
 210 A life's devotion. 
 
 don't think you ever will, do you V slie asked, 
 anxiously. 
 
 Captain Carmichael gave rather a bitter laugh 
 as he replied, 
 
 < A burnt child dreads the fire, Shelah. I 
 think I may safely say I shall never marry, 
 though we none of us know what the future has 
 in store for us.' 
 
 But, when Shelah plied him with further 
 questioning on this delicate subject, he put her 
 off, saying some day he should tell her all about 
 it. 
 
 It was quite true that, unmindful of the pale, 
 wistful little face always striving to attract his 
 attention. Lord Ballina, during the first six 
 months of his widowerhood, preferred being 
 much alone, and made no eff'ort to shake off" the 
 egotistical grief into which he was plunged. 
 But after this time, though he had by no means 
 forgotten his heroic, beautiful Helen, he became 
 weary, not of his sorrow, but of sorrowing, 
 while his restless, excitable nature began to 
 crave for some exciting change ; so, hiring a 
 yacht, he made frequent cruises in the ^Mediter-
 
 A life's devotion*. 211 
 
 I'anean, often remaining away for lengthened 
 periods. 
 
 Shelah rarely accompanied him on these trips, 
 for she Avas still delicate. And in the deep 
 though unexpressed sorrow she felt at her 
 father so constantly leaving her, comhined with 
 the yearnings still assailing the child for the 
 mother of whom she was bereft, and for the 
 home of her happy childhood with all its sweet 
 associations, Shelah's life would have been very 
 lonely had it not been for Hugh's sheltering 
 care, and constant attention to procure her 
 amusement. 
 
 His fellow-officers smiled, but not in irony, 
 when they passed their comrade as he sat in 
 the gardens, or on the ramparts, overlooking 
 the sparkling cobalt sea, with Shelah's curly 
 bead pressed close to his shoulder, over which 
 he hekl a large, wliite umbrella to protect his 
 loved little companion from the fierce rays of a 
 Maltese sun, while he related to her long and 
 thrilling stories of the past history of Malta — the 
 valour of its knights, and their gallant defence 
 of their island home against the Turks ; and 
 
 p 2
 
 212 A life's DEVOTIOX. 
 
 when his historical talk was exhausted, he iovent- 
 ed fairy tales for her lighter amusement. Then 
 when she became wearied of both they would 
 roam hand in hand in search of butterflies and 
 beetles, in the discovery and examination of 
 which she still took the keenest interest, always 
 provided they again received tlieir liberty. 
 
 It was after a chase of this description that 
 one day, hot and tired, Shelah flung herself 
 beneath the scant shade afforded by a group of 
 aloes and cactus, — by no means refreshing to 
 the eye, for they were white and dusty from the 
 effects of long-contiDued drought, — and looking 
 up at Hugh, asked thoughtfully, 
 
 ' What is an absentee, Mr. Hugh ? Is it some- 
 thing wrong to be one? for I overheard General 
 O'Brien say to you yesterday that papa was 
 another Irishman added to the long list of 
 absentees, who were impoverishing Ireland by 
 spending tlieir rents in foreign lands. And he 
 shook his ugly head as he spoke ; for he is very 
 ugly,' added Shelah, spitefully. 
 
 'I did not think you were such a good 
 listener, Slielah, but little pitchers have long ears 
 sometimes. An absentee is the name given to
 
 A life's devotion. 213 
 
 those who forsake their own country, and Hve in 
 strange lands.' 
 
 ' But wo have not done this,' she replied, 
 eagerly. * Papa is going back to Ireland. 
 Mamma would be grieved, oh, so grieved, if we 
 did not, and then I have promised the poor 
 people that we should. I had a letter from 
 Mick this morning, such a funny one. He says 
 that everybody is blue-moulded for want of a 
 sight of me. And we are all going back soon 
 to dear Ballina, are we not?' she added, looking 
 anxiously into her companion's face. 
 
 Captain Carmichel hardly knew what reply to 
 make to this anxious little questioner, for he was 
 aware Lord Ballina had not the remotest inten- 
 tion at present of returning to Ireland, and, 
 moreover, that he shrank from the thought of 
 €ver again residing in his bereaved home, where 
 Helen's love and thrift had converted compara- 
 tive poverty into comfort, almost luxury. Lord 
 Ballina hated everything that gave him the 
 trouble of thinking, and he had made the unfor- 
 tunate discovery that he could live abroad much 
 more economically, and with much greater ease 
 to himself, than in a place that since his wife's
 
 214 A life's devotion. 
 
 death he viewed in no other hght than that of a 
 dismal prison. And having given strict orders 
 that his tenantry were to be dealt wath merci- 
 fully, and that all Lady Balliua's charities were 
 to be continued, he was at peace with his con- 
 science, and considered himself at liberty to lead 
 that life which best suited his taste. All this he 
 had confided to Hugh, who now looked rather 
 sorrowfully into the earnest dark eyes gazing so 
 pathetically into his, and replied, diplomatically. 
 
 ' And, when you return to Ireland, what is to 
 become of me, Shelah ? I am a soldier, and 
 cannot desert my colours, therefore you and I 
 would have to bid each other a long good-bye.' 
 
 The grave subjects of absenteeism and Ireland's 
 wrongs were forgotten in the fresh possibilities 
 presented to Shelah's consideration, and start- 
 ing to her feet, she exclaimed, with tears in her 
 eyes, 
 
 ' Oh, no, no. I could never do without you, 
 nor can papa. You take the place of mamma. 
 But there is no necessity for you being a soldier, 
 and unless there are wars and battles you could 
 not be a great general, with stars and ribands. 
 And, if there was a war, you might be killed.
 
 A life's devotion. 215 
 
 So,' she ended, triumphantly, * you sec how 
 much wiser it will be for you to come back with 
 us to Ireland.' 
 
 'The first part of your argument is very 
 logical, Shelah. But surely you would not have 
 me fear death? For that would be cowardl}-. 
 It is glorious to die for one's Queen and country, 
 my sweet child.' 
 
 The young soldier's face glowed with military 
 enthusiasm. But Shelah only burst into tears, 
 exclaiming, 
 
 * And what would become of me if you were 
 killed V 
 
 She cared nothing for such prospective glory 
 as he alluded to, and it took much reasoning on 
 his part to assure her that this direful possibility 
 was not inevitable even if he were called upon 
 to fight in defence of his country's honour, lie 
 was unaware himself, as he spoke, how rapidly 
 the clouds threatening in the east were becom- 
 ing darker and more alarming. 
 
 It was some time after this conversation that 
 Hugh was summoned to England by his lawyer, 
 while at the same moment war with Russia was 
 declared to be a certainty. There could be no
 
 216 A life's devotion. 
 
 hesitation on his part about remaining in the 
 army. His affairs once settled in England, he 
 must rejoin his regiment and await the issue of 
 events. Previous to his leaving Malta, Lord 
 Ballina and Shelah had started for Switzerland.
 
 217 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The settlement of his aiFairs in England took 
 Captain Carmichael a longer time than he had 
 at first anticipated. After a prolonged inter- 
 view with his lawyers, he had to visit his newly- 
 acquired estates and convince their present 
 owner that he was in unlawful possession. But 
 having made generous provision for this greatly 
 surprised and much disappointed individual, 
 and having visited the numerous charitable 
 institutions which had absorbed a considerable 
 portion of his uncle's wealth, and promised to 
 continue to them his support, ho made prepar- 
 ations for at once joining Lord Ballina and 
 Shelah in Switzerland ; for, though the season 
 was now at its height, the atmosphere of Lon- 
 don, both mentally and physically, weighed him 
 down, and forgetting how, when under tho
 
 218 A life's devotion. 
 
 thrall of an all-absorbing passion, he had thought 
 it the most delightful place in the world, Hugh 
 wondered how anyone could care for its aim- 
 less routine of balls and parties, or find amuse- 
 ment in what now appeared to him, in his 
 altered state of feeling, such vacuous pleasures. 
 This virtuous reflection crossed his mind as he 
 leaned over the park railings one sunny after- 
 noon on his return from the Horse Guards, and 
 meditated on the vanity of all human wishes 
 and expectations. For, had the great change 
 which had arisen in his fortunes taken place 
 some years back, how different w^ould his life 
 have been from what it actually was. Did he 
 regret this ? No, a thousand times no, for then 
 he would never have come across the pure star 
 that so brightened his present existence. He 
 would never have known Shelah ! 
 
 As he answered this mental reflection with so 
 decided a negative, he caught a glimpse of her 
 who had given it birth, as she flashed past him, 
 looking sullen and bored, though she recHned 
 in the best-appointed barouche in the park, 
 to which were attached the finest horses money 
 could purchase, for Lord Lillburne was particu-
 
 A life's DEVOTION'. 219 
 
 lar in every matter appertaining to his stables. 
 
 It was his will that his wife's carriage should 
 be faultless, and that his horses should be un- 
 surpassed in beauty both of form and action. 
 But he was rather tyrannical respecting the 
 amount of work they were to do, as indeed he 
 was on most matters. After he had been a few 
 weeks in London, Lady Lillburne had to go 
 out at the exact hour appointed by marital 
 authority, and to return at the precise moment 
 decided by that authority. When she fretfully 
 rebelled against this rigid rule, he coldly ob- 
 served, ' If inconvenienced thereby she was at 
 liberty to remain at home.' But, inasmuch as 
 her daily drive was the only opportunity afforded 
 to Lady Lillburne of complete liberty, she was 
 careful not to infringe on this Draconian law of 
 her lord, who was also decidedly her master. 
 For, much as she might Avail and fret over his 
 commands, she was of too feeble a nature to 
 break into open rebellion. IMoreover, she dreaded 
 a summary return to Northnmberland. 
 
 An involuntary smile crossed Hugh's counte- 
 nance as he witnessed his former love's triumph- 
 ant progress towards the Marble Arch. The
 
 220 A life's devotion. 
 
 magnificent horses stepped proudly, as though 
 conscious of the universal admiration they 
 elicited, while Lady Lillburne, as if it were a con- 
 descension on her part, indeed almost too great 
 an exertion, bowed languidly every now and then 
 to passing acquaintances. Most people turned 
 to stare at her or her horses, perhaps at both, 
 for they were equally worthy of attention. 
 
 Remembering how Mabel had always coveted 
 the possession of such a perfectly-appointed 
 equipage as she now possessed, Hugh could not 
 help marvelling whether it afforded her all the 
 satisfaction she had anticipated in its possession. 
 Unaware she had seen him, he was moving re- 
 flectively away when he found himself suddenly 
 pursued by a breathless footman, by whom he 
 was informed that Lady Lillburne wished to 
 fipeak with him. Retracing his steps, he per- 
 ceived her carriage drawn up closely to the 
 rails. He had no particular wish for any farther 
 explanations with his former love, for they could 
 be but painful to both. The dreams of a 
 soldier's ambition had so completely replaced 
 all softer emotions in Hugh's breast — his love 
 for this beautiful woman was so completely ex-
 
 A life's DEYOTIOy. 221 
 
 tinguisbed — that, though they had not met since 
 the night of her ball, he was wholly unembar- 
 rassed as, taking her hand in his, and unobser- 
 vant of her flushed, excited face, he said calmly, 
 for he was both a judge and admirer of horses, 
 
 ' I congratulate you on your turn-out, Lady 
 Lillburne. Yours must be the finest horses in 
 Europe. Everyone turns round to gaze at them, 
 at you also,' he added, courteously. 
 
 Stung by the calm coldness of his manner, she 
 replied, bitterly, 
 
 'Yes, of course I am the happiest, luckiest 
 woman in the world. Everybody is aware of 
 this fact.' Her voice softened as she continued. 
 * Yes, I have everything I coveted, — everything 
 for which 1 deserted you. But you need not 
 taunt me, Hugh, for I am punished, bitterly 
 punished. A brilliant outward show may dis- 
 guise from the world what from you ' she 
 
 stopped with a nervous catching of the breath, 
 giving Hugh time to say, gravely, 
 
 'Mabel — Lady Lillburne,! implore you not 
 to allude to a forgotten past. Let us renew 
 our acquaintance calmly, forgivingly, forgetting 
 all that came before.'
 
 222 A life's devotion. 
 
 ' Ah, it is easy for you to speak like this, for 
 the past is swept from yoiir memory. Why, 
 even he taunted me with this fact. Why should 
 you remind me of it, Hugh?' she contimied, 
 recklessly, unmindful of the many cruel, gossipy 
 eyes watching her. ' I have heard of your 
 good fortune. Oh I cruel fate, why did it not 
 come in time to save me from my disastrous 
 marriage — from misery untold V 
 
 Her blue eyes, blue as the sky above, filled 
 with tears as she spoke. The sight of those 
 beautiful eyes, false as their soft glances had 
 proved to him, moved Hugh strangely. But he 
 was a man of strict and unblemished honour, and, 
 even had he still loved this frail, worldly woman, 
 he would, now she was the wife of another, have 
 gone to the end of the world to escape and 
 avoid her. 
 
 Then he was inexpressibly shocked at her 
 open admission that she did not care for her 
 husband ; such a revelation so fully revealed 
 the worldly spirit which had actuated her 
 marriage, as well as the shallowness of the 
 affection she professed for him. Therefore, 
 concealing the pity he could not but feel for
 
 A life's devotiox. 223 
 
 one whose calculating worldliness had been 
 rewarded with such evident failure, it was iu 
 a stern and almost contemptuous tone that he 
 repHed : 
 
 ' You are forgetting that your regrets at the 
 tardiness of my good fortune betray how 
 slight was the hold I ever had over your affec- 
 tions, Lady Lillburne. But these tardy regrets 
 ma}^ be lessened when I inform you that I am 
 not the millionaire 1 am reported to be. In a 
 few days I shall disappear again into my original 
 obscurity, and return to my regiment.' 
 
 Lady Lillburne was, as Hugh stated, perfectly 
 nnconscious of the egotism embodied in the 
 plaintive and impassioned wail she had made 
 over her past unfaithfulness towards him. At 
 the moment she was only thinking of herself, and 
 craving for that sympathy from him which in 
 the days of their long engagement had never 
 been denied her. His stern coldness recalled 
 her to a sense of their present relations, and 
 after all, what right had she to expect sympathy 
 from Hugh? She had cast his love away as 
 worthless, and must abide by the consequences. 
 Yet it was with a little hopeless sigh, and witli
 
 224 A life's devotion. 
 
 an inconsistency true to lier character, that she 
 said, reproachfully, 
 
 'You are cruel. But God knows you have 
 no reason to believe me. Yet you used to be 
 generous, Hugh, and surely you might still 
 afford me a little sympathy. Ah ! if you only 
 knew how much I stand in need of it.' 
 
 ' Sympathy sometimes enervates, Mabel,' he 
 replied, in softer tones. * Be brave. Accept the 
 position you have made for yourself. Study to 
 gain your husband's confidence. According to 
 your own confession, he has much to forgive. 
 Begin your life bravely afresh. Live out of 
 yourself, and sooner or later, rest assured, you 
 W'ill gain your reward.' 
 
 As she listened to this kindly advice — looked 
 into Hugh's calm, noble face, though she felt 
 his love for her would never be rekindled — a 
 feeble flicker of better resolves woke in Lady 
 Lillburne's heart, impelling her to reply : 
 
 ' I will endeavour to follow your advice, be- 
 cause you give it. But this is not the last time 
 we shall meet ? You will come and see me at 
 least once before you leave?' she asked, im- 
 ploringly.
 
 A life's devotion. 225 
 
 ' If it is possible, I will. But, if you don't seo 
 me again, remember, Mabel, that our poor, 
 human resolutions are evanescent as the air we 
 breathe. In our own strength we are powerless.' 
 
 'I know — I know,' she replied, petulantly. 
 *But I do not pretend to be religious like you. I 
 never was.' 
 
 His voice sank into almost tender earnestness, 
 as he replied, 
 
 'Mabel — Mabel. Strive to become so. It is 
 woman's truest protective armour in temptation, 
 her only safe-guard. May it so prove to you.' 
 
 Captain Carmichael's forbearance from all re- 
 proach, his not even hinting that her present 
 disappointments in life were the result of her own 
 actions, touched Lady Lillburne, and she felt 
 more sobered, more disposed to make some good 
 resolutions than she had been for many a long 
 day. And, as for a moment he held her hand as 
 he bade her farewell, she stooped forward saying, 
 softly and sadly, 
 
 * Thank you, Hugh. You arc the same as 
 ever, kind and true. That I, voluntarily, for- 
 feited such a love as yours must be to me an 
 everlasting regret.' 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 A life's devotiox. 
 
 Suddenly she dropped bis hand, and started 
 violently. Captain Carmichael, though longing 
 to end an interview which had become so pain- 
 ful, arrested his departure, in order to see what 
 bad occasioned Lady Lillburne's agitation and 
 increase of colour. Her face was crimson. He 
 was not long left in doubt, for Lord Lillburne, 
 who had stolen up unobserved, was sitting on 
 his horse, close to the other side of the carriage, 
 glaring fiercely at his wife. 
 
 ' It is all but dinner-time. May I inquire 
 what urgent cause has arisen for my horses to 
 be kept still out, contrary to my desires, Lady 
 Lillburne V 
 
 He made this demand in a harsh voice, pay- 
 ing no more attention to Captain Carmichael 
 than if he had been an importunate beggar 
 whom he purposely ignored. But Hugh was 
 not easily discomposed, and, guiltless of evil, he 
 Avas both grieved and alarmed at the terrible 
 fear of her husband too plainly depicted on 
 Lady Lillburne's countenance, and, observing 
 she was for the moment incapable of reply, he 
 said, quickly and composedly, 
 
 ' I fear I am responsible for detaining Lady
 
 A life's devotion. 227 
 
 Lillburne in the park, so your wrath must 
 descend upon me, Lord Lillburne. Those are 
 splendid animals of yours; but a little more 
 exercise would do them a deal of good.' 
 
 ' Ah ! Captain Carmichael, you have returned !' 
 said Lord Lillburne, as though he had but just 
 observed Hugh's presence. ' Though unasked, 
 I thank you for your advice. Pray accept my 
 good wishes on your accession to wealth. To 
 be rich is to be honoured. Had your good for- 
 tune come a little sooner, how different would 
 our three fates have been ! As it is, let me 
 offer you my sincerest congratulations on lacing 
 still a bachelor, and a rich one. Such a po- 
 sition opens out to you every possibility of 
 felicity.' 
 
 Nothing could exceed the biting irony of 
 Lord Lillburne's tone and manner as he made 
 this speech, while the dark scowl in his black, 
 deep-set eyes was quite in harmony with his 
 sarcastic words. Not that they had been 
 prompted by any incipient jealousy of Hugh, 
 but he had a suspicion that Lady Lillburne 
 had been unfolding her domestic troubles to this 
 former lover, and the thought that he, of all 
 
 q2
 
 228 A life's devotion. 
 
 men, should be made the recipient of such con- 
 fidences drove him wild. The knowledge that 
 the world at large was aware he had been mar- 
 ried simply for his wealth and station was * the 
 thorn in the flesh ' that allowed Lord Lillbume 
 no peace. 
 
 Having delivered himself of his very amiable 
 speech, Lord Lillburne looked towards the 
 coachman, saying, authoritatively, 
 
 'We dine out. Drive her ladyship home 
 immediately.' 
 
 By some talismanic sign, well understood by 
 them, the coachman caused his horses to step 
 quickly onwards, and tso rapid and sudden was 
 this movement that Captain Carmichael, who 
 was still standing close to the carriage, narrowly 
 escaped being thrown down. Without observ- 
 ing him, Lord Lillburne galloped furiously off 
 in an opposite direction. He dared not trust 
 himself to return homo until by the influence of 
 rapid, physical exercise he had brought into 
 subjection the violence of liis stormy and 
 disturbed spirit. 
 
 One swift glance did Lady Lillburne cast 
 towards Captain Carmichael as she was being
 
 A life's devotion. 229 
 
 ■driven homewarrls at her huKband's command, 
 and in that glance he read sullen obedience, 
 reckless despair. And, unaware of how deep 
 was Lord Lillburne's cause of offence against 
 his lovely wife, he reflected witli deep melan- 
 choly on the improbability of her ever soften- 
 ing towards one whose violent temper was so 
 little under control, and who could humiliate his 
 wife in the presence of others as he had done. 
 
 Profound, however, as was Hugh's compassion 
 for Lady Lillburne, it was impossible for him to 
 regret that her faithlessness had left him a free 
 man. During the last few 3^ears his character 
 had deepened and strengthened, and, even 
 when his love had been at fever-heat, the 
 absence of the more serious element in her 
 character had pained him and caused him con- 
 siderable misgivings. At the best, her religion 
 had never been more than superficial — a thin 
 veneer, which contact with the world had almost 
 wholly effaced. Brought up by worldly parents, 
 Mabel had fully answered to the education they 
 had given her, and had she become Hugh's 
 wife they would have been as effectually sun- 
 dered from each other by the dissimilarity of
 
 230 A life's devotiox. 
 
 their dispositions and views of life as they were 
 by the matrimonial chain that now bound her 
 to another. He realised all this more than he 
 had in the past, for Helen Ballina's death, com- 
 bined with her holy, beautiful life, had made 
 an indelible impression upon Hugh, enforcing 
 upon his mind that there was work also for him 
 to fulfil. Nor had he ever forgotten her warn- 
 ing words : ' The night cometh when no man 
 can work.' 
 
 x\nd, as he now rapidly traversed the Park, 
 he rejoiced in the sense of his unshackled free- 
 dom to a degree most unflattering to Lady 
 Lillburne, could she have read his thoughts. 
 Ambition, a noble ambition in his case, had 
 superseded all other passions in the young 
 soldier's heart. The whole air was teeming 
 with reports of impending war. The Guards 
 bad already left for the East, and their well- 
 known uniform was replaced by that of hum- 
 bler, militia regiments. Hugh's regiment, now 
 stationed at Malta, was sure to be called on to 
 prove its valour in the coming straggle with 
 Russia, and, as he placed the latchkey in the
 
 A life's devotion. 231 
 
 door of his temporary lodging, he exulted ia 
 the thought that most likely he would find a 
 letter from his commanding officer, containing 
 the glorious news that their gallant regiment 
 was to embark at once for the East in preparation 
 for coming events. 
 
 In the place of such elating intelligence, he 
 only found, lying on his table, a letter in a well- 
 known and loved handwriting. This was from 
 Shelah. His heart smote him as he took it up, 
 for, until this moment, he had failed to remem- 
 ber the agony of grief the winning his antici- 
 pated laurels would cost her. But it all came 
 home to him as he held her letter in his hand, 
 for this young girl, hardly more than a child, 
 was the one human being who loved him with 
 pure unselfishness, who would exult in his mili- 
 tary success, or mourn, with heart-breaking 
 sorrow, over any evil that might befall him ; 
 for Hugh had no near ties of relationship. 
 Perhaps this fact accounted for the great affec- 
 tion he bore Shelah. And, giving a deep sigh 
 as he reflected on the sorrow he would be 
 forcibly obliged to give this loved being, he
 
 232 A life's devotion. 
 
 opened her letter, but without breaking the 
 carefully-made seal bearing these words, ^Va 07i 
 je voudrais etre F 
 
 He smiled as he read this loving motto, and 
 then gave a start of surprise on observing that 
 Shelah's letter was dated from Baden, whereas, 
 though he had not heard from either for a much 
 longer time than usual, be believed Lord Bal- 
 lina and his daughter to be residing ?t Vevay, 
 ^vhere the former had informed him he had 
 taken a chalet for the summer. 
 
 ' Baden — Baden ! what on earth has brought 
 him there?' he murmured. 
 
 Shelah^s letter accorded the answer he sought. 
 
 * We came here three weeks ago,' she wrote, 
 ' but I don't like this place nearly so much as 
 Vevay. I miss the lovely lake, and the boating 
 and swimming that were so enjoyable at the 
 chalet. But even Vevay 1 did not care so much 
 about after we left our pretty chalet and went 
 to stay at the hotel, for papa made friends with 
 a lady there whom I did not like at all, but he 
 did, at least at first, but afterwards he got tired 
 of her, I am sure, and we left Vevay quite sud- 
 denly. But she has followed us here, and is in
 
 A life's devotion. 233 
 
 the same hotel. Papa appears to like this 
 place, and is, at times, much merrier than I 
 have seen him for a long time, but I think very 
 often his spirits are forced. And, at times, I am 
 sure he is unhappy. Yet this is a very pretty 
 place. In the evenings he takes me into the 
 gardens, which are lovely, and a beautiful band 
 plays, and the stars come out and shine through 
 the trees, and lovely ladies walk about dressed 
 so beautifully! And everybody seems to be so 
 happy, and all look as though they had never 
 had anything to make them sorrowful. When 
 the band is over I go home with Bridget, and 
 papa spends the evening in a place called the 
 " Kursaal." He took me in there one day, and 
 everyone was sitting round the table with little 
 heaps of money before them, and papa put 
 money down, a lot of Napoleons, and when the 
 man raked them away with all the other money 
 he looked so very vexed. I was sorry, but 
 afterwards he got them all back again, and he 
 said, laughing, " Now, Shelah, we will come 
 away, or my luck may change." But, though 
 he is tliere nearly all day long, he lias never 
 taken me again, and, tliough T am very lonely
 
 234 A life's devotiox. 
 
 sometimes, 1 never want to go there any more.' 
 
 Hugh read no further ; his indignation knew 
 no bounds, and, flinging the letter down, he 
 exclaimed, passionately, 
 
 * Helen, Helen ! Is this the way he honours 
 your memory, by taking your child into that 
 den of iniquity ? Feeble, infirm of purpose as I 
 know him to be, I never would have believed 
 he would have erred so far.' 
 
 But there were other reflections alarming 
 Hugh. Not only was it evident to him that 
 Lord Ballina had once more embarked on a 
 mad course of gambling, Avhich meant utter 
 ruin to himself and Shelah, but it was also clear, 
 from her letter, that he had formed a most 
 undesirable acquaintance with, most probably, 
 a designing adventuress. 
 
 Always quick in forming a resolution, Hugh 
 decided to start at once for Baden, and taking 
 Shelah's letter once more, and having read it 
 attentively to the end, he came to the conclu- 
 sion that, though she endeavoured to disguise 
 the fact, she was very unhappy, for her last 
 words embodied a passionate appeal for his 
 presence.
 
 A life's devotion. 235 
 
 ' You must have settled all your business by 
 this time, dear Mr. Hugh, and I don't like Mrs. 
 Lawrence Brown ; for I think she is deceitful, and, 
 though papa says she is very handsome, 1 am 
 sure you will not think so. 1 asked papa the 
 other day when we were going to Ireland, and 
 he answered, " We can never go back unless I 
 get richer, and I am getting poorer every day." 
 Oh ! I have cried so much since then. Do, do 
 come to us quickly. I have so many things I 
 want to tell you. The only thing I have to 
 comfort me is a beautiful white kitten, which 
 always sleeps on my bed. 1 can't write any 
 more. But I know you will be here soon. 
 
 'Your loving Shelah. 
 
 * P.S. — All the dots are kisses.' 
 
 That very night Captain Carmichael started 
 for Baden. He had not forgotten his promise 
 to go and see Lady Lillburne, but he considered, 
 if he delayed one moment in answering Shelah's 
 call for help which she evidently so much need- 
 ed, he Avould have failed in the promise he had 
 made to Helen, who, in too true prescience of
 
 236 A life's devotion. 
 
 her husband's character, had so solemnly com- 
 mitted her child to Hugh's protective care. 
 
 Hurried in his movements, however, as he 
 was, the terrible look of trouble he had wit- 
 nessed on Lady Lillburne's countenance when 
 they had last parted haunted him mournfully, 
 and he wrote her a few kind lines, urging her 
 to battle courageously with her troubles, and 
 these he in no way ignored, and not to give 
 w^ay to a current of reckless despair ; that her 
 welfare would always be a matter of the deepest 
 interest to him, though it might be years before 
 they met again. Nothing could have borne 
 more forcible testimony to his complete forgive- 
 ness and forgetfulness of the past than did this 
 parting letter to Lady Lillburne. Over it she 
 shed bitter tears, partly of disappointment and 
 sorrow, but also of wounded vanity. The hope 
 to which she had been clinging, that her former 
 lover still held her in tender recollection, that 
 he would at least aflford her sympathy and 
 •counsel, was annihilated for ever.
 
 23' 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 When Lord Ballina quitted Switzerland for 
 Baden, after a six weeks' residence on the shores 
 of the lake of Geneva, he was guiltless of any 
 intention of entering upon that desperate course 
 of gambling in which he afterwards engaged. 
 He well knew that this sin was hereditary in 
 his family, carried in his father's case to the 
 extent of an all-absorbing passion, which ended 
 in his complete ruin, and the consequent im- 
 poverishment of his heir. 
 
 But though, in his earlier life, Lord Ballina 
 had indulged in play, he honestly believed that 
 this fatal weakness was, so far as he was c(fh- 
 cerned, dead and buried beyond possibility of 
 resurrection. Out of sight and hearing of temp- 
 tation, it never occurred to him that tlie devil 
 of play still lurked within liim, only requiring 
 opportunity to disport itself anew with fresh
 
 238 A life's devotiox. 
 
 vigour, and that when presented to him in the 
 alluring form in which it attired itself at Baden, 
 he would at once fall a ready victim to its 
 seductive poAver. When with his daughter he 
 first settled down in a chtdet midway between 
 Vcvay and Montreux, situated close to the lake, 
 and commanding a glorious view of the moun- 
 tains closing in its blue waters in the direction 
 of sunny Italy, he was at first as buoyant and 
 happy as a boy. He had his daughter entirely 
 to himself. There w^ould be no more tiresome 
 lessons to mar sport. She could be his com- 
 panion all day long. 
 
 Lord Ballina, with the careless insouciance of 
 the future which characterised him, was wholly 
 blind to the necessity of Shelah's education 
 being steadily carried on, and, when Hugh 
 hinted at the advisability of her having at least 
 a daily governess, Bridget being decidedly in- 
 competent to fulfil that office, he had scouted 
 this suggestion with dismay, declaring *that 
 such an abomination would be intolerable to 
 him, and that, so far as Shelah was concerned, 
 the child was so quick and clever, she would 
 catch up all learning by intuition.'
 
 A life's deyotiox. 239 
 
 It was owing to these circumstances that 
 Hugh himself undertook her education. At the 
 commencement of this experiment, Lord BalHua 
 looked on and smiled. He was grateful to 
 the tutor who thus saved him the infliction of 
 a governess. To have an unknown woman 
 domesticated near him would have destroyed 
 his peace of mind. Since his wife's death he 
 avoided all ladies' society. For him there had 
 been, could be, but one woman in the world. 
 But all at once Lord Ballina began to chafe at 
 Hugh's too great appropriation of Shelah, and 
 it was with secret satisfaction he bade him fare- 
 well, and with but shghtly disguised annoyance 
 that he witnessed Shelah's torrent of tears as 
 she flung herself into her godfather's arms, 
 sobbing aloud, 
 
 'Good-bye — good-bye! Come back to us 
 soon. We can't do without you.' 
 
 * Am I not enough for you, Shelah V said her 
 father, reproachfully, as they steamed out of 
 Malta harbour, while, with the tears still stream- 
 ing down her cheeks, she kept waving her 
 little, damp pocket-handkerchief to Captain 
 Carmichael, who was standing on the'plcr, a tall
 
 240 A life's devotion. 
 
 and conspicuous figure, for he was in full regi- 
 mentals, and the sun danced and played on his 
 glittering epaulets and his sword which he flashed 
 according to promise to and fro in the air, as 
 long as the retreating ship was visible. 
 
 ' Oh, papa,' answered Shelah, turning to her 
 father, when Hugh was no longer visible. ' You 
 know that I love you better than anything in the 
 whole world — far — far better. But I love my 
 god-father next best. And, papa, — ' she raised 
 her eyes and looked at him sadly — ' mamma 
 loved him.' 
 
 Lord Ballina felt rebuked, and, folding her in 
 his arms, covered her wet little ftice with kisses. 
 Yes, Hugh had been his Helen's friend, they 
 were of the same blood, and he had been with 
 her in that supreme moment when, to have been 
 in his place. Lord Ballina would have sacrificed 
 years of after life and happiness. 
 
 But Shelah Avas a quick child, and from her 
 father's words having made the discovery that 
 he was jealous of her affection for Hugh, she 
 schooled herself not to evince too great a 
 sorrow at his absence, learning, young as she 
 was, to exercise that self-control and subjuga-
 
 A life's devotion. 241 
 
 tion of personal feeling which alas ! in the future 
 she was often forced to practise. 
 
 But youth is youth, and Lord Ballina was of so 
 buoyant a spirit, and so entirely devoted to his 
 daughter's amusement, that, though she still kept 
 Hugh in closest remembrance, Shelah's regrets 
 at being parted from him became gradually less 
 poignant. The weather was so perfect — every- 
 thing looked so fresh and green after the glare 
 and dust of Malta, for the young vines were still 
 attired in their tenderest foliage, then the lake, 
 recalhng to memory that of her Irish home, 
 shone and danced in such glorious sapphire 
 tints beneath the child's window, and the moun- 
 tains robed in the morning mist looked so 
 mysterious, yet so lovely, that when on awaken- 
 ing she sprang from her bed, and rushed bare- 
 foot to throw open the casement and inhale the 
 crisp morning air, each returning day was a fresh 
 source of exquisite joy to this young spirit, 
 blessed with an intense appreciation of the beau- 
 tics of nature. Then the sunsets, which turned 
 the grand old mountains into every varying 
 shade of crimson and rose, how she delighted to 
 watch those gradual changes, only consenting 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 242 A life's devotion. 
 
 to retire to rest when the dark shades of even- 
 ing had crept over the scene of beauty, con- 
 cealing it from sight. 
 
 In the entire freedom of an out-door life, in 
 the boating, bathing, and swimming which the 
 lake afforded, and the picnics she and Lord 
 Ballina made almost daily to different points of 
 interest, Shelah found such intense delight 
 that often she wished her present life could last 
 for ever, of course to be ultimately made still 
 more entrancing by Hugh's arrival. 
 
 ' Acknowledge, Shelah,' said her father, one 
 day, merrily, ' that existence is much jollier 
 without tiresome lessons ! Even our sage tutor 
 is not so much missed, eh V 
 
 Lord Ballina's eyes twinkled with mischief. 
 
 ' But I do my lessons, papa,' she responded, 
 with a gay laugh. ' Every morning I learn the 
 tasks Mr. Hugh has set me, before you are out 
 of bed. And what do you think V our landlady 
 is teaching me German. But I wish you would 
 let me have a German mistress. You promised 
 Mr. Hugh you would.' 
 
 Lord Ballina gave a prolonged whistle, ac-
 
 A life's devotion. 243 
 
 companied by a comical expression of penitence 
 at neglected duties, as he replied, 
 
 ' So I did, my darling. But you already speak 
 French and Italian like a native. What more 
 do you want ? You are the most efficient little in- 
 terpreter in the world, and save your ignoramus 
 of a father all the expenses of a cheating courier.' 
 
 * But you see I want to learn German quite 
 well, because I promised I would. And I want 
 to please Mr. Hugh. Everybody should keep 
 their promises, papa, should they not?' She 
 looked up shyly and demurel3^ 
 
 Lord Ballina was vexed, not at her pertin- 
 acity, but at this fresh proof of Hugh's influence 
 over her. But, disguising his chagrin, he said, 
 
 ' Yes, my child, a promise should be kept. 
 You shall have a German teacher, though to my 
 rnind it is a hideous jargon of a language, and 
 your instructress is sure to be ugly, ill-dressed, 
 and wear spectacles — all German women do.' He 
 made a grimace, and, glad to dismiss a disagree- 
 able subject, added, briskly, ' And now run ofl" 
 and prepare for a swim in the lake, and let us 
 there drown for the present all learning.' 
 
 r2
 
 244 A life's devotiox. 
 
 Away flew Shelah, light of heart ; she had 
 accomplished her desire, and these swimming 
 pastimes were one of her greatest enjoyments. 
 AVhen she retm-ned, she was clad in the sweetest 
 little costume possible, composed of blue serge, 
 trimmed with scarlet, a scarlet sash round her 
 waist, while a sailor's hat covered her fair hair. 
 Bridget followed, holding a cloak, to be thrown 
 over her young mistress when she came out of 
 the water. 
 
 Lord Ballina was attired in his boating-suit 
 of white flannel, and the three walked down to 
 the lake, or rather Shelah and her father raced 
 down the slopes of the rapidly descending vine- 
 yard belonging to their chidet. The door of 
 which opened direct on the water, where a boat 
 lay in readiness for them. 
 
 Though now past forty, Lord BalHna, with hi& 
 still abundant curly golden hair, and his beard 
 and moustache of the same vivid colour, his clear 
 fresh complexion, and splendidly proportioned 
 figure, might have passed for thirty. Grief, 
 deeply even as he had felt his, leaves but slight 
 outward trace on a man of his physique and 
 temperament.
 
 A life's devotion. 245 
 
 As he stood up in the boat, making arrange- 
 nieuts for Shelah's comfort, he formed a fitting 
 figure in the foreground of the unsurpassingly 
 lovely landscape surrounding them, and she 
 gazed at him with eyes brimming over with 
 admiration and love. Beautiful at all times, in 
 those white flannels she considered her father 
 perfection. It had never struck Shelah to 
 reflect on Hugh's outward appearance. It Avas 
 his goodness and kindness to herself, and every- 
 one with whom he came in contact, which had 
 steeped the girl's whole soul in gratitude to- 
 wards him. And then she felt she could so 
 entirely depend upon her god-father. Lord 
 Balhna's exterior was of that striking character 
 that at once attracts and commands admiration. 
 You might pass Hugh in a crowd without special 
 notice, but, once knowu, his image remained 
 indelibly stamped on memory, for in him the 
 spiritual man predominated over the material, 
 and this higher ascendency was as visibly ex- 
 pressed on his countenance as it was exempli- 
 fied iu all the actions of his life. 
 
 * Shelah, my darliug, wake np, you are in one 
 of your dreams. Jump in quickly, and we may
 
 246 A life's devotion. 
 
 yet escape the admiring crowd assembling to 
 watch our proceedings. Give me the cloak, 
 Bridget, and wait for our return.' 
 
 Shelah started out of her reverie as Lord 
 Ballina spoke, and then sprang nimbly into the 
 boat, waving an adieu to her nurse. In another 
 moment Lord Balhna, with a few vigorous 
 strokes of his strong arms, had shot their little 
 craft several yards from the shore. As her father 
 observed, Shelah had been dreaming — dreaming 
 of her mother, and of the first swimming-lesson 
 she had received from her father on the Bal- 
 lina lake, when Helen, looking like a guardian 
 angel, had stood on the shore, exhorting the 
 child to be courageous, though, as Shelah well 
 knew, she was trembling with maternal anxiety 
 at her darling's first venture in the art of swim- 
 ming. But Lord BalHua was in such good 
 spirits this afternoon that, when he again asked 
 her of what she had been dreaming, Shelah 
 would not damp his joyousuess by a true 
 answer, and said, smilingly, 
 
 ' A hundred, thousand things, papa. But please 
 stop, the water looks so lovely and blue just
 
 A life's devotiox. 247 
 
 here, I should like to take my plunge in this very 
 spot. Look, you can see quite clearly down.' 
 
 'All right, my little maid,' he replied, laying 
 to on his oars, and taking out a cigar. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Shelah had thrown off her 
 cloak, and flung down her hat. 
 
 ' NoAV, papa, the signal.' She was standing on 
 one of the seats, her arms stretched out, her 
 pretty hands pressed tightly one against the 
 other. 
 
 * One — two — three, and away,' exclaimed Lord 
 Ballina. 
 
 In she plunged at the last word, not dis- 
 appearing beneath the blue, translucent waters, 
 for fihe was plainly discernible in its clear 
 depths as she dived down to come up again 
 at a little distance. 
 
 During the next half-hour Shelah continued 
 her aquatic performances, diving, floating, and 
 swimming, sometimes with one arm, some- 
 times on her back, with an ease and daring- 
 courage marvellous in one so young. The only 
 branch of education Lord Ballina had imparted 
 to his daughter had certainly been brought tu a
 
 248 A life's devotion. 
 
 successful issue, for Slielah was the veriest 
 water-nymph that had ever disported in her 
 native element. 
 
 ' Now, Shelah, you had better come home, or 
 you will be over-tired,' called out her father, as, 
 after an unusually lengthened dive, she re- 
 appeared on the surface of the water, shaking 
 the dripping hair from her face and eyes, and 
 laughing merrily meanwhile. Obedient to the 
 call, rosy, but slightly breathless from her late ex- 
 ertions, she swam back to the boat, and 
 scrambled in with her father's help, who, wrap- 
 ping her up carefully, observed smiling, 'I 
 thought you had forsaken me altogether, and 
 gone down to dwell Avith old Neptune. I don't 
 think I could have remained so long under 
 water myself.' Throwing away his cigar, he 
 took up the oars, and began to row rapidly in 
 shore. *Do you know, Shelah, you have had 
 an addition to your audience to-day,' he observed, 
 after a momentary silence. * You did not see 
 them, but two ladies came close by in a boat, 
 and, by Jove, one was uncommonly handsome I' 
 
 Shelah dropped the towel with which she was 
 mopping her face and hair, and looked up at her
 
 A life's devotion. 249 
 
 father in unbounded astonishment, repeating 
 the word ' handsome ' in a half stupefied man- 
 ner. She had never heard her father call a lady 
 * handsome,' or speak of one, since her mother's 
 death. How could he think any lady handsome 
 after her beautiful mamma ? She felt hurt and 
 indignant, but Lord Ballina was evidently much 
 excited on the subject, for he repeated, 
 
 ' Yes, handsome, very handsome, my water- 
 sprite. 1 have rarely seen such eyes. They 
 were in the Vevay hotel boat, so I suppose they 
 are staying at the hotel. Most likely we shall 
 see them at the table-d'hote to-morrow. It is 
 our evening for dining there. They appear to 
 me quite unlike the usual tourist lot, and a little 
 society will be a pleasant novelty to both you 
 and me.' 
 
 Shelah made no reply. There was a rising 
 lump in her throat. Certainly she was only a 
 child, but she had been so happy, so contented 
 alone with her father, and had thought he was so 
 also, and now he talked as if he wished for society; 
 hitherto he had avoided it with aversion, as an 
 unpleasant interruption of tlicir quiet happy days. 
 
 This sudden change of feeling on his part
 
 250 A life's devotion. 
 
 dismayed her. She could not make it out. Per- 
 haps it was as well she could not, for the fact 
 was, as the elasticity of his spirits returned, 
 Lord Ballina craved for a little more excite- 
 ment than his chalet afforded, and, though from 
 reasons of economy he remained on there, he 
 often regretted not being at the hotel, as, 
 when Shelah was in bed, he found his evenings, 
 after the first week or two, disastrously dull. 
 He was no very studious reader, and his stock 
 of light literature was almost exhausted. 
 
 At Malta, the club, dinners at the mess, 
 officers dropping in at odd times afibrded him 
 easy and agreeable variety, and now that he 
 had forgotten, Hugh being at a distance, how 
 his jealousy had been aroused byShelah's devo- 
 tion to her godfather, he began rather to tire of 
 the exclusive society of his little girl, and to find 
 the life in which he had at first experienced con- 
 siderable enjoyment monotonous and decidedly 
 dull, though he hardly acknowledged this to 
 himself. 
 
 It only took a few moments for the boat to 
 reach land, and as soon as the keel touched the 
 shore Shelah sprang silently out to be caught
 
 A life's devotion. 251 
 
 ia Bridget's arms and liumcd through the little 
 crowd who always assembled to watch with 
 astonishmeut and admiration the young English 
 girl's wonderful performances in the water, and 
 to greet her return with warm applause. 
 Sometimes she would delay a moment in 
 order to make a kindly remark to one of the 
 peasants, wholly regardless of Bridget's earnest 
 entreaties that she would hurry home and dress. 
 But to-day she made no resistance to the good 
 woman's remonstrances and fears of her catching 
 cold, but ran quickly towards the garden door, 
 disappearing immediately from her disappointed 
 admirers. 
 
 Bridget saw something was wrong, but wise- 
 ly forcbore to question her young mistress, 
 and set to work at once to dry her hair and 
 remove her wet clothing. 
 
 * Do you ever feel dull here, Bridget V asked 
 Shelah, after a lengthened silence, during which 
 the nurse was rubbing and scrubbing violently. 
 
 * Well, I'm lonesome like occasionally. Miss 
 Shelah, when you are away. 1 miss me blessed 
 bogs, and me arguments with i\Iick, though 
 he never will be convinced. Then these bigv
 
 252 A life's devotion. 
 
 tall mountains are melancholy to my mind. And 
 I can't help thinking they might have been 
 arranged better, for one can't get a sight over 
 their heads. And I am always wanting to have 
 a peep at their backs.' 
 
 Shelah smiled languidly, looking up at her 
 nurse through the tangle of fair hair hanging 
 over her face which Bridget was vainly trying 
 to comb out. 
 
 'And then the food is so messy in these coun- 
 tries, Miss Shelah. The beautiful potatoes all 
 smashed and fried and murdered hke instead of 
 €oming to your plate in their lovely skins. 
 But may be the'r such sloppy, shabby little 
 things in this country, the'r ashamed to let us 
 see them except dressed up so that you don't 
 know whether it's a tater or a turnip you have 
 in your mouth.' 
 
 * Bridget V 
 
 So suddenly did Shelah call out her name, 
 that the nurse let the brush fall, and bounded 
 back saying, ' It's the start you gave me. What 
 ails you, me darling?' 
 
 'Nothing, Bridget, I am sorry I startled you,' 
 answered Shelah, more quietly.
 
 A life's devotion. SSS- 
 
 She had been deep iu reflection, and liad not 
 heard one word the nurse had been saying. Sho 
 now looked at her steadily, saying, 
 
 ' Do you think papa is dull here ? — wants 
 more grown-up people to talk to?' 
 
 * And if he does he can get plenty of society 
 over at the hotel, Miss Shelali. I hear tell dances- 
 and all sorts of things go on there.' 
 
 * Have you seen two ladies that have come 
 there lately, Bridget? And are they beautiful?' 
 asked the child, earnestly, unheeding Bridget's 
 account of the hotel gaieties. 
 
 ' Oh ! I've seen more than I want of them,' 
 replied Bridget, with an angry toss of her head. 
 'If fine feathers make fine birds, both these two 
 are fine enough, in all conscience. When you 
 and [his lordship were away at Berne,' (pro- 
 nounced by Bridget * Burn,') ' they came up 
 here and asked if I thought his lordship would 
 have any objection to their seeing his lovely 
 " shalletti," and I said I knew uotliiug about 
 me lordship's objections or subjections. But I 
 had no orders to show it, and I wouldn't, no, 
 not to the Queen or the Pope of Rome himself, 
 without his lord.ship's written word. And the
 
 ^54 A life's devotion. 
 
 lady, the biggest and the grandest of the two, 
 all silks and satins, and smirks and smiles, turned 
 round to an ugly bit of a brown girl she had 
 with her, and whispered, " What an Irish savage ! 
 And what a disgusting brogue ! Never mind, 
 we can wait !" The whisper was a loud one, 
 and my hearing is cute still. I ran down after 
 them, and banged and bolted the door with as 
 much row as I could make. Then I laughed 
 outright, for I knew it would anger the beau- 
 ties. " An Irish savage indeed ! It's them that 
 is the savages," thinks I. " Why, a hathen 
 would have more manners than to push them- 
 selves unaxed into a gintleman's house." There, 
 dearie, you are as nice as nice can be now, just 
 all the world like a rose-bud after a shower of 
 rain. The blessing of God be upon you.' 
 
 The woman placed her hands devoutly on the 
 young girl's head, and then kissed her fondly. 
 
 ' Thank you, dear old Bridget. I am sorry 
 you ever feel lonely. But perhaps, as you are 
 only lonely when I am away, it is the same 
 with papa. I wish he would let me sit up later 
 of an evening. It is then he must miss mamma 
 so much. I Avish I was grown up.'
 
 A LIFF/S DEVOTIOy. 255 
 
 Slielah sighed. 
 
 ' I am too young to amuse him as she did.' 
 
 ' You will groAv^ up quick enough. Leave 
 throuble alone till then. And don't be bothering 
 yourself, jewel. Your papa will do well enough. 
 He will not be lonely, as you imagine, of nights 
 any longer. For the last week he has taken to 
 walking over to the hotel when you are a-bed.' 
 
 ' Ah !' was all Shelah's response to words 
 spoken with the kind intention of reassuring 
 her, but which fell like lead on her young heart, 
 for her father had not told her he went to the 
 hotel. Evidently he did feel his loneliness, but 
 wished to conceal the fact from his little daughter. 
 
 Gathering up her books, she walked pensively 
 towards the sitting-room to lie down and rest, 
 and to study her self-appointed lessons, as was 
 her wont after bathing, until Lord Ballina came 
 in for tea. During Shelah's restful hour he usually 
 took what he called a racer on the lake. But 
 on this day, instead of returning to tlie boat after 
 Shelah had gone home, he drew it up on shore, 
 and bent his steps towards the hotel, muttering, 
 as he straightened himself, pulled up his collar, 
 and pulled down his sleeves,
 
 256 A life's devotion. 
 
 'I shall just walk over and find out who they 
 are. She is certainly one of the handsomest 
 women I have seen for ages.' 
 
 Being a vigorous walker, he soon reached his 
 destination, a distance of a couple of miles. To 
 his query whether there were any fresh arrivals, 
 the secretary replied, ' that Madame and Made- 
 moiselle Lawrence Brown could hardly be called 
 new arrivals, for they were Iiahitues of the hotel, 
 who had been touring in the mountains, but 
 they had returned to their apartments au pre- 
 mier the previous evening, and were now 
 sitting in the garden.' Having ordered a cup 
 of coffee, Lord Ballina thither adjourned. As 
 usual he was acting upon the impulse of the 
 moment, but unfortunately his impulses v/ere 
 often followed by consequences involving both 
 himself and others in disaster. 
 
 There were several small knots of tourists 
 sitting about, all of them more or less uninterest- 
 ing. But, though his unwonted appearance made 
 a decided stir amongst them, not being a shy man 
 this in no way disturbed his equanimity, and he 
 gazed calmly around, in hopes of seeing the object 
 of his curiosity. Finally he perceived her sitting
 
 A life's devotiox. 257 
 
 under a wide-spreading maple, apparently deep 
 in a book. She was extremely well-dressed, and 
 Lord Ballina was satisfied that he had not ])een 
 mistaken as to her good looks. After a moment's 
 hesitation he perceived there was an unoccupied 
 table close to where Mrs. Lawrence Brown sat, 
 and of this he immediately took possession, not 
 observing that upon it lay a sketch-book. After 
 a few moments, during which his coffee w^as 
 handed to him, the reader put down her book, 
 and, looking towards the hotel, called oat, in a 
 loud voice, * Adela.' 
 
 Lord Ballina was unpleasantly startled. 
 What a voice! He was fastidious in these 
 matters, and thought he had never heard less 
 melodious tones. No Adela appearing in re- 
 sponse to the call, a slight look of impatience 
 passed over the lady's face, and, rising quickly, 
 she turned and approached the table where 
 Lord Ballina sat. Evidently she had not before 
 observed him. Now that she did, her eyes 
 sparkled with pleasure, and her colour perceptibly 
 rose. Under the influence of pleasurable sur- 
 prise, she looked so handsome that Lord Ballina 
 no longer dwelt upon the disagreeable im- 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 A life's devotion. 
 
 pression her voice had made upon him. Indeed, 
 he considered he must have been mistaken, 
 when in words of dulcet sweetness, she 
 said, 
 
 ' Excuse me, Lord BaUina, but your arm is 
 on my sketch-book. I am sorry to be obHged 
 to disturb you.' 
 
 ' A thousand pardons, madam.' He rose, and 
 handed it to her. 'May I ask how you know 
 my name ? I do not think we have met before, 
 Mrs. Brown.' 
 
 ' 1 might retort how do you know mine V she 
 replied, with a fine smile, displaying a row of 
 very white, if too large, teeth. ' You and your 
 lovely daughter cannot fail to be known in a 
 place hke Veva}'. I am a very humble personage, 
 whose proceedings can create but small atten- 
 tion, I may say none.' 
 
 ' You must allow me to differ in that opin- 
 ion,^ replied Lord Ballina, with a courteous 
 bow. 
 
 This lady was charming, and, following her to 
 the table where she had been sitting, he craved 
 permission to look at her sketches. Permission 
 being readily accorded, they were soon engaged
 
 A life's devotion. 259 
 
 in animated discussion on the beauty of the sur- 
 rounding scenery, and so fascinated did Lord Bal- 
 lina become of the handsome stranger, that in a 
 fit of enthusiasm elicited by her charms and con- 
 versation — the latter much interlarded with flat- 
 tering encomiums on Shelah's beauty — ere they 
 parted he had promised to bring his daughter 
 to see her, and had also arranged for their making 
 a picnic together to Chillon. 
 
 Long, but in vain Shelah waited that evening 
 for her father's return, and it was only when 
 a messenger arrived from the hotel with a few 
 hasty lines from Lord Ballina, telling her he 
 would not be home till late, that she sent away 
 the dainty little repast prepared for his evening 
 tea, while, deaf to Bridget's entreaties that 
 she should go to bed, she could not be per- 
 suaded even to undress, until peeping through 
 the casement of her bed-room window, she 
 saw him returning home, and perceived that her 
 handsome father looked unusually bright and 
 cheerful. Then, without a word, she crept into 
 bed and cried herself to sleep. She had at- 
 tained the certainty that her society no longer 
 sufficed him. 
 
 S2
 
 260 A life's devotion. 
 
 A few days later, to Shelah's inxepressible 
 sorrow, they quitted their pretty chalet, and took 
 up their residence at the hotel.
 
 261 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 j\Irs. Lawrexce Brown was a twice-made widow. 
 Her first husband, a lieutenant in the army, had 
 only survived his marriage a year, leaving her 
 little else than his name, and an infant daughter 
 wholl}^ unprovided for. 
 
 If Mrs. Brown mourned her husband's death, 
 it by no means interfered with her selecting a 
 second help-meet with a celerity that even 
 astounded those who best knew the vivacious 
 widow's disposition. She calmly disposed of 
 their astonishment by accounting for her short 
 widowhood in the following words : 
 
 * You forget I have a child to think of. My 
 heart is buried in poor Alfred's grave, my life is 
 ended, but hers is all before her ; and ]\Ir. 
 Brown settles a handsome fortune upon little 
 Adela the day I marry him, and that day, lie 
 says, must not be postponed.'
 
 262 A life's devotion. 
 
 Having thus coupled her child's interests and 
 Mr. Brown's ardour in one, and considering these 
 combined facts were sufficient exoneration for 
 apparently undue haste in the step she was about 
 to take, Mrs. Lawrence became Mrs. Brown. 
 She revealed to no one that by so doing she 
 secured to herself great advantages in the way 
 of wealth for the rest of her days. Nor was 
 she long burdened with her second husband's 
 society. He was more than an elderly man at 
 the time of his marriage, and had left India, 
 where he had spent thirty years of a hard life, 
 to reside at Bath, for the benefit of his numer- 
 ous ailments ; here he met Mrs. Lawrence, and 
 here decorously ended his days. Immediately on 
 his demise, his widow, who had a tender recol- 
 lection of her younger husband, incorporated 
 the name of Lawrence with that of Brown, con- 
 sidering that the addition gave importance to a 
 name that was in itself common and vulgar. 
 But even when she had succeeded in becoming 
 known under the double appellation, being a 
 lady of exalted aspirations, she determined at 
 the earliest opportunity to change it for a
 
 A life's devotion. 263 
 
 loftier one. To become a member of the 
 aristocracy was the object of her ambition , and, 
 to a woman wealthy as she was, she considered 
 this object easy of attainment. 
 
 When Mrs. Lawrence Brown heard of Lord 
 Ballina's having a chalet at Vevay, to which 
 place she had only come for a short time, her 
 plan of campaign was at once decided upon. 
 Being of an inquiring tm-n of mind, she qnicldy 
 learnt that, though a nobleman, he was poor. She 
 felt her chance had arisen, and at once decided 
 to convert him into one of the richest members of 
 the aristocracy. His having a child was un- 
 fortunate, because Mrs. Lawrence Brown disliked 
 children, girls especially, all except her own ill- 
 favoured Adela. She adored this daughter, 
 the offspring of her girlish, first marriage, that 
 Adela who, so opportunely, by not answering 
 to her name, had paved the way for Mrs. 
 Browna making Lord Balhna's acquaintance. 
 And yet this girl, the object of a mother's truest 
 love, was plain, almost deformed — in fact, ' an 
 ugly little brown thing,' as Bridget had termed 
 her, and, moreover, she was peevish from ill-
 
 264 
 
 health, querulous, and spiteful. But she was 
 •well-educated, and by no means deficient in 
 worldly wisdom. 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence Brown was rather sharp, un- 
 scrupulous, and wholly uneducated. But some 
 natural quickness enabled her efiectually to 
 disguise her lack of education ; and being a 
 keen observer of mankind, and having travelled 
 much, and hovered a good deal on the outskirts 
 of society in many lands, she turned these 
 advantages to the best possible account at all 
 times and seasons. 
 
 * An uncommonly clever and agreeable 
 woman,' had been Lord Ballina's dictum 
 respecting the wily widow after the first after- 
 noon he had spent in her society. Nor was he 
 the only one of his sex who had passed a 
 similar judgment on this lady after an equally 
 short acquaintance. 
 
 When Mrs. Brown appears in our story, she was 
 little under forty, but owing to great attention 
 to her appearance and her self-indulgent life, 
 she had preserved a singular freshness of ap- 
 pearance and youth. Nor were these personal ad- 
 vantages in any way dependent on meretricious
 
 A life's devotion. 265 
 
 arts. Her hair, black as night, was guiltless of 
 all restorers, her brilliant colour was her own, 
 her forehead was smooth and unwrinkled. It 
 was only when her face was in perfect repose 
 that an ominous line between the brows, and 
 certain slighter ones about her thin, tightly- 
 closed mouth, indicated that Mrs. Brown was 
 settHng into the autamn of life, and also that 
 she had a temper of abnormal violence. 
 
 Her daughter was just eighteen, and, as the 
 two were engaged in conversation some ten 
 days after they had made Lord Ballina's ac- 
 quaintance, they presented the strangest con- 
 trast imaginable. 
 
 These ladies occupied the principal apartment 
 of the hotel at Vevay, and, the afternoon being 
 intensely hot, both windows and green jalousies 
 were hermetically closed, and only a pleasant 
 half light pervaded the apartment. Adela Law- 
 rence was reclining on a sofa overcome by 
 the heat and more than usually fretful, while 
 close beside her sat her mother, armed with an 
 enormous fan, witli which she was ineffectually 
 endeavouring to cool the air for her daughter's 
 comfort, who observed, croasly,
 
 266 A life's devotion. 
 
 * There, that will do, mother. It is not a bit 
 of good, and it only fidgets me. I wish we had 
 not left Chamouni. Cannot we go back there? 
 It suited me much better than this hot place/ 
 
 * Impossible, Adela,' snapped Mrs. Brown. 
 * What an ungrateful girl you are !' 
 
 ' Oh, there is no use getting into a temper. 
 I understand all about it, mother. Now that 
 you have made Lord Ballina's acquaintance, I 
 suppose we shall stay in this hot, stuffy place as 
 long as he does.' 
 
 ' Well, is it not quite as much for your ad- 
 vantage as my own that I have striven to make 
 his acquaintance T Did I not make my second 
 marriage for your sake, and yours only V 
 
 ' Not the least for your own advantage, of 
 course,' maliciously snapped the invalid. 
 
 * Every advantage that marriage brought me 
 was shared by you, Adela. I did violence to 
 my own feelings in order to procure you inde- 
 pendence and wealth,^ reproachfully replied her 
 mother. 
 
 * And, having secured both for yourself at the 
 same time, you now wish to lose them again,' 
 Adela laughed, spitefully.
 
 A life's devotion. 267 
 
 * Listen to me, Adela,' replied her mother, 
 kissing her daughter with such tenderness that 
 it seemed as though some of her own redundant 
 health must be transfused through the medium 
 of that warm embrace into the sickly frame of 
 the invalid. ' We are rich, very rich, but w© 
 are nobodies. It is only on the Continent that 
 we are accepted in any society. You have often 
 desired to give up travelling — to remain quietly 
 in England. If I marry Lord Ballina — a mar- 
 riage I feel certain I shall ultimately accom- 
 plish — your wish can be fulfilled, while we at 
 once get into society. We shall no longer 
 stand trembling on the threshold of the great 
 world of fashion. People Avill no longer dare, 
 after accepting our dinners at Cannes and Nice, 
 to turn their insolent heads aside when we 
 again meet in London, or to ignore the cards 
 we leave at their doors, as though they had 
 never known us. Adela, don't you understand, 
 we can be avenged on these proud aristocrats, 
 for we shall be one of their number?' 
 
 As she thus delivered herself of a long-stand- 
 ing grievance, Mrs. Brown's face glowed and 
 her eyes sparkled with the thought of her an-
 
 2r)8 
 
 ticipated triumph. She looked uncommonly 
 handsome, and quite capable of carrying out 
 every design of social revenge she harboured, 
 if she ever got the opportunity. 
 
 ' I fail to see how your becoming Lady Bal- 
 lina will enhance my dignity,' drily remarked 
 Adela. Then suddenly she sat up on the sofa, 
 and, fixing her keen, clever little eyes of a 
 greenish hue on her mother, exclaimed, * Mother, 
 beware, you are falling in love with this hand- 
 some, penniless Irishman. If he marries you, 
 it will be only for your money, and that you 
 may settle it on that flaxen-haired child, whom 
 he adores. You have forgotten her, and your 
 dislike of children. How will it suit you to 
 have this idol of your intended husband's always 
 near you V 
 
 ' Bah !' exclaimed Mrs. Brown. * And you are 
 not civil, Adela. I am not only a rich woman — ' 
 She gave a conscious little laugh. 
 
 * You are a handsome one likewise, mother, 
 1 am well aware. But the first Lady Ballina 
 was, I hear, the most beautiful of women, adored 
 l^y her husband, and this child is hers.' 
 
 * You speak like an oracle, and mean well, I
 
 A life's devotion. 269- 
 
 have no doubt, Adela. But I know what I am 
 about. The child is of an a^e to go to school^ 
 where she ought to have been long ago/ 
 
 Mrs. Brown as she spoke moved to the win- 
 dow, ostensibly to open it, for the sun was 
 sinking behind the mountains, but in reahty to 
 hide her rising colour. Adela had asserted a 
 fact the truth of which she was hardly con- 
 scious. Her mother was not falling in love 
 with Lord Ballina, she was already in love with 
 the handsome, impecunious Irishman, and was 
 determined to be victor in the task she had 
 assigned herself of winning his affections. In 
 everything she had hitherto striven for she had 
 been successful. Her first husband had raised 
 her from obscurity into a sphere of comparative 
 gentility. At his death she had sought for 
 riches, and, almost without an effort on her 
 part, they had been abundantly accorded her. 
 She was now seeking rank, a great social posi- 
 tion, and, behold ! they appeared to be within 
 easy reach. Love she had never thought of 
 when she first met Lord Ballina. But his hand- 
 some face, easy, agreeable manners, had made 
 a complete conquest of the widow's heart, and
 
 270 A life's devotion. 
 
 this new and powerful sentiment had engen- 
 dered a less amiable one— jealousy of his 
 daughter. If she succeeded in maiTjing Lord 
 Ballina, could she ever hope to supplant this 
 adored daughter in his affections? Evidently 
 Adela was incredulous on this point. 
 
 As Mrs. Brown opened the window, Shelah's 
 sweet, silvery laugh rose from the garden and 
 re-echoed through the air. She was frolicking 
 with a white Persian kitten given to her by the 
 master of the hotel. Everybody desired to do 
 something to please the lovely child, who was 
 a general favourite not only for her beauty, 
 but in consequence of her innocent, gracious 
 manners ; and then she was motherless. 
 
 * Pauvre petite, elle n'a point de mere,' was 
 the sympathizing remark of the people about 
 when they saw her go out on the lake with 
 Bridget, as she had often done since they had 
 come to sojourn at the hotel. For Shelah could 
 not be induced to accompany her father when 
 Mrs. Brown was to form a third in their expe- 
 ditions. 
 
 Arrested in her occupation by Shelah's laugh, 
 the widow peeped through the still closed
 
 A life's devotion. 271 
 
 jalousies to observe what was going on iu the 
 garden, and feasted her eyes in silent admira- 
 tion on Lord Ballina, who was sitting on the 
 parapet overhanging the lake, smoking, and 
 watching his daughter with amused intentness. 
 It was fortunate the watcher above could not 
 read his thoughts, for, at the same time, he was 
 deliberating how soon he could leave Vevay 
 and whither he should bend his steps when he 
 had done so. 
 
 In truth, Lord Ballina was ruefully realising 
 that he had placed himself in a very awkward 
 position, and he was moreover becoming 
 considerably wearied with Mrs. Brown's so- 
 ciety and of her attentions. Her pursuit 
 of him had been too ardent and too ap- 
 parent, as was also his own superlative folly 
 in having so precipitately made her acquaint- 
 ance. He was angry and disgusted with him- 
 self for having given rise to hopes and expec- 
 tations in the handsome widoAv's bosom he 
 had not the most remote intention of grati- 
 fying. Marry again ! To commit such sacrilege 
 to his beloved Helen's memory had never en- 
 tered his head. Indignantly he repelled such
 
 272 A life's devotion. 
 
 an idea, while the recollection of a certain 
 moonlight evening spent on the lake with Mrs. 
 Brown made him hot all over. It was this 
 night's folly that had opened his eyes to the 
 enormity of the error into which he had been 
 led by his passing appreciation of that lady's 
 flashy charms. He was too great a moral 
 coward, and also too kind-hearted a gentleman, 
 to consistently repel advances originating in 
 his own thoughtless conduct. But matters 
 had arrived at such a point that he must do 
 something, and after considerable deliberation 
 and wavering avoidance of the widow's society, 
 too feeble and fluctuating to be noticed by her, 
 he came to the conclusion that his only escape 
 from her pertinacious attentions was in judi- 
 cious flight. Thus, while she felt confident of 
 carrying the citadel by a brilliant coup de main. 
 Lord Ballina had determined on secret and 
 ignominious retreat. 
 
 ' Shelah I' called out her father, suddenly, 
 after several minutes of deep reflection. 
 
 Flushed with running up and down the gar- 
 den, and with her hair blowing about in every 
 direction, she flew up to him, hugging the kitten
 
 A life's devotion. 273 
 
 close to her face, and said, ' Is it not a lovely 
 little thing, papa V 
 
 * Would you not like to go on the lake, 
 darling?' He pulled the kitten's whiskers ab- 
 sently as he spoke, and, as Shelah did not 
 answer, he added, quickly : ' By ourselves. You 
 and I alone. Kitty a third, if you like.' 
 
 ' Oh, papa, how dehghtful ! Let us come 
 quickly away, before ' she hesitated. 
 
 * Before Mrs. B. appears. Is that it, Shelah?' 
 he smihngly asked. 
 
 She looked at him significantly, and nodded 
 her head. Drawing her towards him, he kissed 
 her golden curls, tenderly saying, softly, 
 
 ' You remind me of your mother more than 
 ever, my sweet child. You have grown so 
 much graver lately. You are not like yourself, 
 I fear you were happier at the chalet. You 
 avoid me sometimes since we have been here, 
 Shelah.' 
 
 ' Not you, papa, not you,' she said, colouring 
 deeply as she climbed on to his knee, and, hav- 
 ing dropt the kitten, she put her arms round his 
 neck. * But I was happier at the chalet. Wo 
 were always together then. 1 had you all to 
 
 VOL I. T
 
 274 A life's devotion. 
 
 myself, and there is nobody so gay and pleasant 
 as you are. I don^t wonder at everybody liking 
 you.' 
 
 Lord Ballina felt his little daughter's cheeks 
 were wet as she pressed her face close to his 
 own, and buried it in his luxuriant beard, and he 
 whispered into her ear, 
 
 * Shelah, 1 wish we had never left the chalet, 
 and I wish to heaven I had never seen Mrs. 
 Lawrence Brown. She is like a burr ; there is no 
 shaking her off.' 
 
 Shelah gave a joyful little laugh as she replied, 
 
 * Oh, I wish, too, we had never seen her. 1 
 don't like her at all. She took hold of my 
 curls the other day, and said I was too old to 
 have them hanging about, and that they ought 
 to be cut off because they looked untidy.' 
 
 ' Your pretty curls ! what business is it of 
 hers, I should like to know V exclaimed Lord 
 BaUina, angrily, his intention of leaving Yevay 
 considerably strengthened by Mrs. Brown's in- 
 terference with Shelah's curls. 
 
 'I don't want to make you angry with her as 
 she is a friend of yours,' said the child, prettily ; 
 * and I know you must wish to be with grown-up
 
 A life's devotion. 275 
 
 people sometimes. But I am getting older 
 every day, and, when I am older and wiser, 
 perhaps then you will not want anyone else for 
 company. Oh, papa, my own papa, say you won't.' 
 
 She fixed her eyes, full of tears, imploringly 
 on his face. 
 
 *My darling, I don't want anyone else for 
 company, now or eA^er,' he exclaimed, clasping 
 her in his arms, and covering her face with 
 kisses. 'I have been an egregious donkey, but 
 I shall be one no longer.' 
 
 He guessed at once what fears had been 
 brooding in Shelah's mind, sown there by his 
 own folly, as he well knew. And yet he felt 
 humiliated, wounded to the quick that she 
 could imagine he had so far forgotten the past 
 as to think for a moment of supplying his Helen's 
 place with another Avife, of giving his daughter 
 a step-mother. He was guiltless, entirely guilt- 
 less of such an intention. 
 
 Both Lord Ballina and Shelah were equally 
 startled at this moment of mutual expansion by 
 the noise occasioned, as Mrs. Brown threw open 
 the jalousies of her apartment, and they both 
 looked towards the hotel, when they perceived 
 
 T 2
 
 27G A life's devotion. 
 
 the comely widow, hat in hand, smihng down 
 upon them, as she gracefully kissed her hand in 
 their direction. 
 
 ' Bother !' exclaimed Lord Ballina, under his 
 breath, while Shelah, scrambling off his knee, 
 seized hold of his hand and, dragging at it, said 
 with nervous impatience, 
 
 ' Oh, papa, make haste, or she will be here ; 
 let us run.' 
 
 Hastily picking up the kitten, she fled towards 
 the lake, her father following in a few swift 
 strides. 
 
 In the meanwhile Mrs. Brown, having donned 
 her most bewitching hat, and armed herself with 
 a roseate sun-shade, approached Adela's sofa to 
 bid her farewell. 
 
 * I must go at once, Adela, or I shall miss him ; 
 that child has evidently wheedled Lord Ballina 
 into taking her on the lake, and he promised to 
 go out with me, this very afternoon, to Chillon.' 
 
 Mrs. Brown displayed all the fluttering excite- 
 ment of a girl of eighteen about to keep an 
 appointment with her lover. But the daughter 
 placed a detaining hand on her mother's arm, 
 and said, emphatically,
 
 A life's devotion. 27'/ 
 
 * Mamma, make no mistakes. I know nothing 
 about lovers and love-making; nor am I ever 
 likely,' she added, bitterly ; ' but of this I am cer- 
 tain : if you wish to become Lady BaUina, 
 you must be careful in all your actions with 
 respect to his little daughter. Don't snub her 
 until you are Lady BaUina, or your chance is 
 lost. And now, have you looked over that short 
 abridgement I made out for you last night, 
 heads for conversation? and I trust you have 
 learnt those lines of Byron about the storm on 
 the lake. They are very lovely and effective,' 
 she smiled, ' especially when quoted on the spot 
 which inspired them.' 
 
 *Yes, yes,' impatiently, *I glanced over the 
 heads of conversation, and am quite up in the 
 present state of the political world, Russia's 
 aggressions, etc. Poetry is no use. I have tried 
 it, he does not care that for it.' 
 
 Mrs. Brown emphasised these last words by 
 a suggestive snap of her fingers, and, having 
 readjusted her daughter s pillows, flew out of 
 the room. 
 
 The abridgement to which Adela made al- 
 lusion requires some explanation. Being a
 
 278 A life's devotion. 
 
 clever girl, and too delicate and suffenng 
 to mix in society, she devoted her weary and 
 otherwise unoccupied hours to literature, read- 
 ing every book she could lay her hands upon 
 with avidity : history, philosophical works of 
 the most abstruse character, besides a daily 
 and searching study of the papers, occupied 
 her whole time. Such reading, though it had 
 left her own mind in a rather chaotic and un- 
 happy state, enabled her to coach her less 
 enlightened mother on various subjects, and to 
 enlighten her on many topics of which that lady 
 was wholly ignorant, and who was consequently 
 saved an intellectual labour she cared not 
 for, and for which she averred she had no leisure. 
 The smattering of knowledge thus gained, 
 however, enabled Mrs. Lawrence Brown to 
 hold a very respectable place in conversation. 
 When in society, if she were not quite secure 
 of the subject under discussion she preserved a 
 becoming silence, and remained an absorbed 
 and attentive listener. Perhaps it was owing to 
 this discreet silence that ^Irs. Lawrence Brown 
 had earned the reputation of being a remarkably 
 intelHgent woman. Everybody appreciates the
 
 A life's devotion. 279 
 
 gentle flattery accorded by a good listener. 
 
 After her mother had left the room, Adela sank 
 upon her cushions with a weary sigh, murmuring, 
 
 ' Rest, rest, at any price. Though, once she 
 gains the prize she has in view, her love for the 
 sickly daughter will be swallowed up in this 
 new and more absorbing passion. So be it, if 
 we only give up this aimless, roving existence.' 
 
 Then, urged by the promptings of curiosity 
 the girl rose from her couch to observe what 
 took place in the garden. Mrs. Brown was 
 sailing swiftly down towards the lake Avith her 
 feathers and furbelows fluttering in the breeze. 
 She was as light-hearted as a girl of seventeen. 
 Of course. Lord Ballina, would wait for her, 
 was waiting. The fact was he had found 
 difficulty in getting his boat ofl", notwithstanding 
 his own impatience and Shelah's anxiety, to 
 avoid the widow's accompanying them. If she 
 reached the landing-place, ere they started, all 
 was lost. 
 
 'Oh, papa, why can't we get the boat off"?' 
 exclaimed Shelah, in tones of agony. * Don't 
 look round, she is quite close now.' 
 
 Notwithstanding tliat Lord BalHua was as
 
 280 A life's devotion. 
 
 anxious as his daughter to escape the pursuer, 
 he could not help laughing, for he felt his position 
 partook of the ludicrous. 
 
 At last, crimson in the face from his desperate 
 exertions, with one final effort he managed to 
 shove the boat off, when with a few vigorous 
 strokes of the oar they shot into deep water. 
 In the excitement of success, he exclaimed, 
 
 * Hurrah ! Victory is ours, Shelah, unless she 
 takes to the lake.' 
 
 Shelah burst into a ringing shriek of triumph- 
 ant laughter, not only at their having defeated 
 the widow, but at her father's ludicrous sug- 
 gestion that she might take to the water and 
 swim after the boat, in her present fantastic 
 attire. 
 
 This triumphant and mocking laugh rippled 
 over the lake and was heard by the irate and 
 crest-fallen Mrs. Brown, who at that very mo- 
 ment had reached the landing-stage, panting, 
 and unbecomingly flushed. But, though certain 
 she had been observed by Lord BaUina, the boat 
 sped merrily on its way, while she was left on 
 shore, to digest this humih^ating disappointment 
 as best she might.
 
 A life's DEVOTION. 281 
 
 The expression of her face was not pleasant 
 as she slowly bent her steps back to the hotel, 
 with as much dignity as she could assume, for 
 she was aware that many eyes were watch- 
 ing her ignominious retreat with maHcious 
 satisfaction. As she flung herself on a bench 
 to regain composure and breath, and a more 
 dignified appearance, she murmured, with angry 
 vehemence, 
 
 * So, my Lord BalHna, you propose to take me 
 up and drop me at your pleasure. But no, it 
 is that girl's doing. Ah ! Miss Shelah of the 
 golden curls, I'll be even with you yet.' 
 
 Adela Lawrence, who was still standing at her 
 post of observation, looked down at her mother 
 with a smile of half pity and malice, as she said, 
 softly, 
 
 * Poor mother ! she is not quite so near the 
 desired goal as she flattered herself. But there 
 are more roads to Rome than one, and, pretty 
 Shelah, you are no match for my very astute 
 parent.' 
 
 These last words were spoken not unkindly. 
 Yet, though Shelah had inspired Adela with 
 both interest and compassion, she most ardently
 
 282 A life's devotion. 
 
 desired her mother to be successful iu her pur- 
 suit of Lord BalHna, for she was intensely weary 
 of the nomadic life she had been forced to 
 lead. She longed for rest, and, in the marriage 
 her mother had in contemplation, she saw the 
 prospect of a more settled existence for herself. 
 Long ill-health had made Adela selfish.
 
 283 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 It was on a glorious evening late in July that 
 Captain Carmichael, after a hurried journey, 
 arrived at Baden. The sun had long deserted 
 the valley in which this pretty town is so beau- 
 tifully ensconced, and its fir-clad hills looked 
 densely black and sombre against the soft pink 
 sky, the after-glow of the sun's departed glory. 
 The immediate vicinity of the hotels and Kur- 
 saal Gardens were, however, gay enough, for the 
 whole Baden world was out of doors, enjoyiug 
 the cooler air that had been denied it during the 
 almost tropical heat of the day. Everybody 
 appeared joyous and smiling. Exquisitely 
 dressed ladies of many nationalities flitted 
 about in all directions, seemingly, as Shelah had 
 observed in hor letters, as free from care or 
 sorrow as the summer butterflies, to whom they 
 bore so strong a resemblance. Lamps were
 
 284 A life's devotion. 
 
 already lit, and groups of both sexes sat in 
 cheerful knots beneath the trees, sipping coflfee 
 or imbibing ices, laughing and flirting mean- 
 while with their attendant cavaliers, whose 
 devotion to these bright dames in no way inter- 
 fered with their vigorous smoking. 
 
 ' Shelah's observation is not at fault. But 
 what a place to bring her to, and the very last 
 for him to be in,' was Hugh's reflection, as the 
 strains of Strauss' exquisite band fell upon his ear, 
 enhancing the fascinating charm of one of the 
 most delightful and dangerously seductive spots 
 in Europe ; for, at the time Lord Ballina had 
 imprudently taken up his sojourn at Baden a 
 strong imperial hand had not swept away with 
 stern decision that terrible blot disgracing the 
 Fatherland. 
 
 In every health-resort in Germany, the chief 
 attraction was the splendid building called the 
 Kursaal, devoted to the gamblers' occupation, 
 and, with its lovely gardens and musical bauds, 
 forming an irresistible attraction to the listless 
 idlers and pleasure-seekers of all lands. But 
 Hugh Carmichael experienced neither enchant- 
 ment nor pleasure as he was driven rapidly from
 
 A life's devotion. 285 
 
 the station to the hotel where Lord Balh'na was 
 residing. He had come to Baden, where he had 
 never been before, for the soh? purpose of per- 
 suading Lord BalHna to leave at once a place 
 fraught with such infinite danger to a man so 
 weak to resist temptation as he was. Yet he 
 recognised to the full how difficult was his self- 
 appointed task, for even at Malta Lord Ballina 
 had proved impatient of his advice and admo- 
 nitions, though these were guardedly tendered, 
 for Hugh had discovered that his friend was 
 jealous of the influence he had over Shelah. 
 
 Lord Balhna had, ever since her birth, been 
 inclined to spoil his only child, and, when the 
 selfish absorption of his great grief had passed 
 away, his love for her, quickenedj)y jealousy of 
 Hugh, awoke with fresh vigour, and he became 
 again completely devoted to Shelah, and en- 
 deavoured at times to counteract his salutary 
 influence by half-laughing remarks on her men- 
 tor's undue severity. But, while Shelah made 
 no disguise of the happiness she felt at her 
 father's renewed affection, her allegiance to 
 Hugh Avas never shaken. And when Lord 
 Ballina, who hated to see his little daughter
 
 286 A life's devotiox. 
 
 poring over some task she was diligently pre- 
 paring for her godfather, would strive to tempt 
 her away from further study, torn between the 
 wish to please Hugh, and the delight of an ex- 
 pedition with her merriment-loving father, it was 
 only after a hard struggle she finally yielded to 
 Lord Ballina's superior claims on her love and 
 obedience. It was so difficult for Shelah to 
 imagine anyone she loved, or who loved her, 
 could be in the wrong. And, unfortunately, men 
 who like Lord Ballina are guided by impulse are 
 very often in the wrong. 
 
 One of these little scenes flashed across Captain 
 Carmichael's mind, magnifying the difficulties he 
 felt were lying in his path when he and Lord 
 Ballina should meet. But his meditations were 
 brought to an abrupt conclusion, as he found 
 himself at the hotel indicated in Shelah's letter 
 as the one where she and her father were 
 residing, and a smihng proprietor, followed by 
 a troup of waiters, rushed to the door to greet 
 his arrival. 
 
 Young, good-looking, vigorous, and healthy, 
 this promising-looking EngHshman was evidently 
 another pigeon come to fling himself into Mon-
 
 A life's devotion. 287 
 
 sieur Blanc's net. Poor pigeon ! to be ultimately 
 denuded of all its gay plumage. But what cared 
 Monsieur Hoffmann if such a disaster should 
 take place ? That was not his affair and he 
 rubbed his fat hands and bowed as obsequiously 
 to the new arrival as though he had been an 
 archduke, while with inward glee he prophesied 
 his prolonged sojourn at his own hotel, and had 
 accompanying visions of a lengthened hotel-bill, 
 to be paid, if not by this good-lookhig milor 
 himself, by his relatives or friends. Such things 
 had happened before. And history repeats it- 
 self, especially at Baden. 
 
 * Lord BaUina is staying here, I believe. Can 
 I have a room?' 
 
 Hugh spoke excellent German, and was glad 
 to have an opportunity of using it. But English, 
 even in these days, formed part of the educa- 
 tion of all Germans, and, though but imperfectly 
 acquainted with the language. Monsieur Hoff- 
 mann, anxious to display his learning, replied in 
 EngHsh, saying, 
 
 ' Most certainly milor can have apartments, 
 though Baden overflows. Will milor trouble 
 himself to mount to the troisi^mc V
 
 288 A life's devotion. 
 
 * I don't care if it is the neuvieme, as long 
 as I can get into this hotel,' replied Hugh, good- 
 huraouredly, adding, with a smile, * 1 am not a 
 milor.' 
 
 ' Ah !' the exclamation one of prolonged sur- 
 prise. ' Monsieur has all its appearance. But, 
 now I observe more nearly, monsieur has more 
 the " air militaire." Will le general be good- 
 ness itself, and view its apartments.' 
 
 This jumble of genders, milors, and generals, 
 caused Hugh to laugh outright, as he replied, 
 
 ' Not a general yet, but I hope soon it will 
 be colonel.' 
 
 As he followed the still chattering hotel- 
 keeper to a very scantily-furnished apartment au 
 troisieme, Monsieur Hoffmann, having gathered 
 from the new arrival's Avords that he was ac- 
 quainted with Lord BaUina, thought the moment 
 opportune for making certain enquiries respect- 
 ing this nobleman, who had been living at his 
 hotel over six weeks, and to find out whether he 
 was as wealthy as his rather lavish expenditure 
 implied. As yet he had not even asked to see his 
 rapidly increasing bill, which was filling Mon- 
 sieur Hoffmann's mind with vague apprehension.
 
 A LIFE'S DEVOTION. 289 
 
 for be was well aware where Lord Ballina's days 
 and nights were passed. 
 
 Hugh's portmanteau having been brought up, 
 Monsieur Hoffmann peremptorily dismissed the 
 garcon, and Avas beginning, fussily, to unpack it, 
 when Hugh called out impatiently, 
 
 * There, there, that will do. I am my own 
 valet. I prefer waiting on myself. What o'clock 
 is your table-d'hote ? And can you inform me 
 where I am likely to find Lord Ballina?' 
 
 Monsieur Hoffmann was at the door, but 
 skipped nimbly back, saying, 
 
 ' Table-d'hote is over for to-day. Monsieur le 
 Capitaine. But I can serve you petit diner in 
 the salon, at any hour. Milor Ballina? mais 
 certainement you will discover at the Kursaal. 
 He is ** joueur effrene," hardly gives himself time 
 to eat or drink. But he has the luck — the Inck. 
 He did break the bank in his first week.' 
 
 Monsieur Hoffmann spoke in tones of ardent 
 enthusiasm. He Avas too excited to observe the 
 look of dismay pictured on Hugh's face, who 
 remained totally silent, not wishing to arrest the 
 flow of sad intelligence flooding his ears. It 
 was best he should know the worst. It would 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 A life's devotion. 
 
 make his future course of action easier. As he 
 remained silent, Monsieur Hoffmann continued, 
 ■with great excitement, 
 
 * But the bank he cannot break every night, 
 and Milor Ballina on dit has had its reverses. 
 But then milor is millionaire — has its thousands I 
 So its losses count not.' 
 
 The hotel-keeper's words were those of asser- 
 tion, but doubt was expressed on his face as he 
 thus spoke. Hugh stood in the middle of the 
 room, with knitted brows, and pulling his long 
 moustache as he listened to the man's alarming 
 statements, but the only reply he vouchsafed 
 was, 
 
 ' Thank you. Monsieur Hoffmann, I take little 
 interest in the gossip of the Kursaal. Will you 
 kindly arrange that my place at the table-d'hote 
 shall be next to Lord Ballina.' 
 
 ' Impossible. Milor always has seat between 
 Madame Brown and Mees Fitz-Maurice. Ah I 
 quelle helle demoiselle is placed on the other side 
 of Milor and Mees Lawrence. I am desolated, 
 I cannot make accommodation for monsieur.' 
 
 'Then place me as near Miss Fitz-Maurice as 
 you can,' responded Hugh, waving his hand
 
 291 
 
 impatiently towards the door. He had ah'eady 
 divested himself, partially, of his dusty travel- 
 stained gear, and wished to be alone. 
 
 Could it be possible that all this man had said 
 was true ? If so, how had Helenas husband 
 fallen from the high estate to which her love had 
 striven to raise him 1 And this .Mrs. Lawrence 
 Brown must be the very woman to whom Shelah 
 had alluded as being the object of her fear and 
 aversion. Poor, deserted, unhappy girl ! And 
 as Hugh, with utmost celerity, changed his attire, 
 Helen's voice seemed to be ringing in his ears, 
 urging him to Hy to her husband's rescue — her 
 beautiful, earnest eyes seemed to be pleading 
 with him for instant action in favour of Shelah'e 
 future happiness. 
 
 It v/as already dark, when Hugh emerged 
 from the hotel and walked rapidly through 
 the gardens, in the direction of the Kursaal. 
 Before seeing Lord Ballina, he hoped to come 
 across Shelah. He had made inquiries, and been 
 informed by a civil maid that madcmoiselK' 
 was not in her apartments, but probably mon- 
 sieur would find her in the gardens with her 
 bonne, as she often sat there until a late hour in 
 
 u 2
 
 292 A life's DEVOTION'. 
 
 the evening. But for some time Hugh searched 
 in vain for the sweet face he loved and knew so 
 well. Was it possible her father could have 
 taken his daughter again into that den of 
 iniquity, theKursaalV His blood boiled with 
 indignation at this surmise. But no, Ballina 
 could not have repeated so grave a trans- 
 gression. To have ever done so must have been 
 a solitary instance of thoughtlessness. He was so 
 little given to reflecting on the consequences of 
 his own actions — he loved so to have Shelah al- 
 ways with him. Hugh was endeavouring to frame 
 excuses for his friend — for Helen's husband. 
 
 Not knowing his way about the gardens, but 
 determined to find Shelah, and thinking she and 
 Bridget would most likely seek some retired 
 spot for their evening walk, Hugh plunged down 
 a dark alley, and had not taken many steps 
 when, to his great satisfaction, he caught sight 
 of her he sought sitting with Bridget on one 
 of the garden-benches. She was reading out 
 loud, while this faithful woman busily plied her 
 knitting-needles. A lamp hanging above from a 
 tree afforded them the light required for their 
 mutual occupations, and also, by shedding its
 
 A life's devotion. 293 
 
 radiance on Shelah's shining golden hair — for, 
 the night being sultry, she had thrown aside 
 her hat — betrayed their hiding-place to Hugh. 
 
 Shelah was so deeply absorbed in the book she 
 ■was reading, her eyes were so intently fixed on 
 its pages, that it gave him time to sadly note how- 
 pale and thin she had become in the few months 
 they had been separated. He was also struck 
 at observing how much older she looked ; the 
 time separating childhood from girlhood had 
 been passed. Sorrow, anxiety she ought never 
 to have known, had aged his dear young com- 
 panion. After a few seconds she stopped read- 
 ing, and, without raising her eyes, asked 
 pensively, 
 
 ' Bridget dear, is it nine yet? Papa promised 
 to come here at that hour and walk home with 
 me.' 
 
 The tone of the soft, llute-like voice displayed 
 such deep anxiety that it imparted the same to 
 Hugh. Before Bridget could reply a distant church 
 clock struck out the hour, and, springing to her 
 feet, the girl looked with painful eagerness up 
 the walk Hugh had just traversed. Instantly she 
 perceived him, and, with a cry of overwhelming
 
 294 A life's DEVOTION". 
 
 joy, she darted towards him Hke a bird who 
 seeks refuge from some terrible impending dan- 
 ger, and, as he clasped her in his arms, she clung 
 to him with convulsive tenacity, exclaiming, 
 
 * You are here I You are here at last, Hugh, 
 dearest Hugh. Oh, how happy I am, how 
 happy ;' then she burst into a flood of hysterical 
 weeping. 
 
 ' My darling Shelah, is this the proof of your 
 happiness V he asked, kissing her tear-bedewed 
 face with greatest tenderness. 
 
 ' I am crying for joy — for joy that you have 
 come back to me — to my father,' she whispered. 
 ' I wanted you so much, and so does he. How 
 glad he will be to see you.' 
 
 Hugh considered this last assertion extremely 
 doubtful, but replied, as he led her back to the 
 seat where she had been sitting, 
 
 ' Well, here I am, Shelah, and more glad to 
 see you than words can express. Do you know 
 I have travelled day and night to get here 
 quicker, and be in time for your birthday to- 
 morrow. And my present is quite ready for the 
 occasion. Shall I tell 3'ou what it is V 
 
 * How kind and good you are ! But it is you
 
 A life's devotion. 295 
 
 yourself I wanted,' she said, lovingly, placing 
 her head on his shoulder, and rubbing it up and 
 down against his coat like a kitten. 'And I 
 don't want to know anything about the present 
 until to-morrow.' 
 
 * When you will be thirteen. What a great 
 age ! But how pale you are, child, and thin ; 
 and, though you are so old, surely you ought to 
 have been in bed long ago. 1 am afraid Mrs. 
 Bridget, with whom I have not yet shaken 
 hands, is becoming over-indulgent. Is it so ?' 
 
 He turned and held out his hand, with a 
 kindly smile, to the Irishwoman. 
 
 ' We are waiting for his lordship, sir. He 
 promised to fetch Miss Shelah home ; but I 
 think, me jewel, we had best wait no longer. 
 Maybe his lordship has forgot to come ; he does 
 now and again.' 
 
 * No, no, I am sure he has not. And I won't 
 stir until I see him,' exclaimed Shelah, with a 
 passionate petulance most foreign to her usual 
 sweet manner. ' And it is unkind of you to say 
 papa forgets me. It is only very, very seldom,' 
 she added, turning to Hugh, and fixing her 
 dark eyes, the beautiful tell-tales of a sorrow
 
 296 A life's devotion. 
 
 she was endeavouring to disguise, piteously 
 upon him. 
 
 * Suppose we go in search of your father, 
 8helah?' said Hugh, rising. * But you must be 
 my guide, or 1 shall certainly lose myself in 
 these intricate, obscure gardens. Come, dear 
 child. Why do you hesitate V 
 
 Slowly Shelah rose in compliance with his 
 desire ; but, as she placed her little hand in his, 
 he was shocked at its tremor and coldness. 
 
 ' Perhaps papa will be here in a minute or 
 two. Ah ! there he is,' she exclaimed, in a voice 
 of ecstasy, bounding forward in front of Hugh. 
 But it was not Lord BaUina, and she returned 
 quickly, saying, with the deepest dejection, 
 
 ' It was not papa, after all. Will you come 
 back to the hotel with us, Mr. Hugh? No, no, 
 not that way, not by the gardens. We might 
 meet Mrs. Lawrence Brown. And, oh I I hate 
 passing the Kursaal.' She shuddered as she 
 spoke. 
 
 ' There, there. Miss Shelah, never mind the 
 big, ugly, wicked ''Curse Hall." It is well 
 named ; it has a shining outside, but a black, 
 foul interior. Don't think about it, darling.
 
 A life's devotion. 297 
 
 Now Captain Hugh has come back to us, the 
 saints be praised, he will take us away from 
 this bad, wicked place.' 
 
 Anxious as Hugh was made by Shelah's 
 whole manner, and mystified by her shrinking 
 dread of passing what Bridget so quaintly 
 termed the * Curse Hall,' he could not repress a 
 smile at the aptness of the Irishwoman's un- 
 conscious simile ; but the femile died quickly 
 away as he felt the clasp of Shelah's hand 
 tighten nervously on his, while, on looking 
 down, he was alarmed to see that her face had 
 assumed an ashen hue. Fearing she was going 
 to faint, he turned inquiringly to Bridget, who 
 whispered, 
 
 ' We had better get home at once, sir. I am 
 afraid one of her attacks are coming on.' 
 
 But Shelah, who was evidently battling with 
 herself, said, gaspingly, 
 
 * No, no, Bridget dear, I am not going to be 
 ill. But 1 don't want Mr. Hugh to come with 
 us.' She dropped his hand, and clasped her 
 own together in entreaty. ' I want you to go 
 in there ' — she pointed towards the Kursaal — 
 *at once — at once — and bring papa away.'
 
 298 A life's devotion. 
 
 Then, as though the flood-gates of her terrible 
 •unhappiness had been suddenly opened by 
 Hugh's presence, she gave full sway to the 
 hitherto pent-up sorrow of her heart, and her 
 words flowed out in a torrent. * Oh I dear 
 Hugh, quick — quick — bring him away. I'm so 
 frightened — so unhappy.' She looked round 
 with wild, terrified eyes, while her voice fell 
 into an awed whisper. * A man — a gentleman 
 — shot himself a few days ago — there— there in 
 the gardens — because he had lost all his money. 
 I saw it all. And — and ' — the sweet young 
 voice rose in agony — ' papa — papa has lost 
 money. I don't understand everything. But, 
 oh ! bring him away — bring him aw^ay. He 
 will be safe now you are come. Go ! Go ! I 
 am well, quite w^ell again.' - 
 
 As she spoke, with all the force of her small 
 hands Shelah strove to push Hugh in the direc- 
 tion of the glittering, illuminated Kursaal. 
 
 But the excitement of his arrival, and the 
 inspiring trust it had given her that all the 
 anxieties and misery she had so long endured 
 would now be ended, had been too much for
 
 A life's DEYOTIOX. 209 
 
 her delicate frame, and, even as she passionately 
 declared she was quite well, she fell into his 
 arms, to all appearance in a state of insensibility. 
 
 Both Bridget and Captain Carmichael had, 
 however, seen her in similar attacks after her 
 mother's death, and were aware that if she ever 
 "underwent any strong mental emotion they 
 might probably recur ; they also knew that 
 while her muscles and limbs were perfectly 
 rigid, and she was deprived of all power of 
 movement, she was nevertheless conscious to 
 sound, and that her brain was as active as 
 her body Avas impassive and incapacitated 
 during the time these attacks lasted. 
 
 Gathering her up quickly in his arms, and 
 noting how the imploring look with which she 
 had last looked at him remained stamped on 
 her dark, velvety eyes, he w^hispered, low and 
 distinctly, 
 
 ' Shelah, my darling, you can trust me — I 
 shall take you home, and then go immediately 
 to the Kursaal and bring your father to your 
 side. Be at rest, dear girl. Have no fear for him.' 
 
 Though deprived of the power of replying.
 
 300 A life's devotion. 
 
 he knew she had heard him, for her eyes closed, 
 and ere they reached the hotel she had fallen 
 asleep in his arms. 
 
 And such had ever been the merciful ending 
 of all her similar painful attacks.
 
 301 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 When, having left Shelah at the hotel under 
 Bridget's care, Captain Carmichael hurried to- 
 wards the Kursaal, he had not formed any 
 definite plan of action. He was well aware of 
 the deep fund of obstinacy underlying Lord 
 BalHna's character, and that, though he might 
 be fully alive to the error of his ways, he would 
 not be easily persuaded to tear himself from the 
 seductions of Baden. But the alarming altera- 
 tion Hugh had observed in Shelah's appearance, 
 and the return of an illness they trusted she had 
 long outgrown, would be, he hoped, powerful 
 advocates in his favour, unless Lord Ballina 
 liad become callous to all parental duties. Dis- 
 missing this idea, however, as quite improbable, 
 he passed rapidly through the first rooms of 
 the brilliantly-lighted Kursaal, for a glance had 
 assured him that he whom he sought was not
 
 302 A life's devotion. 
 
 there. Roulette does not afford sufficient excite- 
 ment to the habitual gambler. Passing on to the 
 salon devoted to rouge et noir, the crowd here 
 was so great it was with some difficulty he made 
 a passage through it. The air was stifling, but 
 finally, having elbowed his way through this 
 excited mass of human beings, he managed to 
 find standing-room close to the table where the 
 more determined players were seated, their 
 countenances portraying all the miserable pas- 
 sions by which they were actuated. 
 
 But these players did not concern Hugh, 
 except inasmuch that he sadly reflected Helen's 
 husband had sunk to their level, and, as he 
 looked around in search of Lord Ballina, he 
 faintly hoped he might not discover him amongst 
 these hopeless gamblers. Yain hope I In an- 
 other moment his eye fell upon the form he 
 knew so well, and his heart sank within him. 
 Could this indeed be his handsome, laughter- 
 loving friend — this haggard, worn-looking man, 
 who appeared as though he had not slept for 
 nights, and whose crisp, golden curls and beard 
 usually kept so bright and trim were now dull 
 <ind dishevelled, while the expression of his
 
 A life's devotion. 303 
 
 cheerful, genial couutenance was so changed as 
 to leave him but the semblance of his former 
 self. 
 
 Hugh groaned iu spirit as he noted the alter- 
 ation that persistency in a fatal, soul-destroying 
 vice had Avorked in the handsome BalHna. At 
 the present moment, with his elbows resting on 
 the table, and his hands wildly clutching the 
 thick masses of his dishevelled curls, he was 
 intently watching the dealer, and debating in 
 his mind whether to allow his largo stake to 
 remain on the table, or at once to realise his 
 gains and withdraw from further risk. There 
 had just taken place one of those astounding 
 runs on the red, and a mass of Lord Ballina's 
 ill-gotten notes and gold lay on the winning 
 colour. The pallor of his face and the eager 
 glance of his eye as he Avatched the automatic 
 movements of the dealer betrayed the dreadful 
 anxiety of mind under which he was labouring, 
 for be was neither a philosophical loser nor calm 
 winner. Drops of perspiration stood on his 
 face as the stolid croupier called out the num- 
 bers, and once, with a nervous movement, ho 
 stretched out his hand as though to withdraw
 
 304 A life's devotion. 
 
 his stake, but it was now too late ; and after all 
 red turned up, and he was again in a fair w^ay of 
 once more breaking the bank. This delirious 
 hope decided him, and the infatuated man 
 allowed his money to remain on the table. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Hugh had come round to 
 where Ballina sat, and, as he watched his 
 friend's terrible emotion, it was impossible for 
 him not to feel intense interest in the turn 
 events might take, although he little surmised 
 of what consequence their results would be to 
 Lord Ballina. As the fatal words, ' Rouge perd- 
 couleur gagne,' passed the croupier's lips in 
 perfect indifference as to the effect they might 
 produce on his hearers, and at the same time he 
 swept away the whole of Lord Ballina's stake, 
 the unfortunate man pushed his chair wildly 
 back with a suppressed oath, and, rising im- 
 petuously from the table, hastily turned to leave 
 the room. As he did so, he found himself face 
 to face with Hugh. At so unexpected a pres- 
 ence the colour rushed in a torrent into his pale, 
 perturbed face, and he started back, exclaiming 
 in shame and dismay, 
 
 * Good heavens, you here?*
 
 A life's devotion. 305 
 
 * I have only been in Baden a few hours, and 
 have been searching for you everywhere. Come 
 outside with me, BalHna. I must speak to you 
 at once. I have something of importance to 
 communicate.' 
 
 As Hugh spoke, he placed his arm within his 
 friend's and led him away from the scene of his 
 disasters. 
 
 Lord Ballina made no resistance. The very 
 shame and contrition Hugh's unexpected pres- 
 ence inspired him with were salutary in their 
 effects. Secretly he rejoiced in his sudden 
 presence. If ever a man required counsel and 
 aid, he did. All his past jealousy of Hugh was 
 forgotten at this moment. He felt like a man 
 reprieved from death, for this friend of long- 
 standing might — would certainly, if it was in 
 his power — save him not only from the conse- 
 quences of his past folly, but from greater 
 disaster looming in the distance. 
 
 Strongly agitated as both men were, neither 
 spoke until they found themselves in the outer 
 air, when Lord Ballina, who had been sitting 
 for hours in the oppressive atmosphere of the 
 rooms, staggered like a drunken man, as the 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 A life's devotion. 
 
 fresh breeze blew on his heated face. Hugh, in 
 no httlo alarm, led him to the nearest bench. 
 As Lord Ballina sank down upon it, he said, 
 with attempted hilarity, 
 
 * Don't be alarmed, dear old Mentor. I am 
 perfectly sober, delighted to see you, and pre- 
 pared to listen to any amount of advice you 
 thiok advisable to administer to this profligate.' 
 Then looking gloomily down, he continued, 
 * Only take into consideration that blood is 
 thicker than water. The blood of my ancestors 
 is asserting itself, Hugh. The hereditary disease 
 has broken out again in another generation.' 
 
 ' Forewarned, forearmed, Ballina. Aware of 
 your danger, why throw yourself in the way of 
 temptation V 
 
 ' Circumstances drove me here, and circum- 
 stances of a most unfortunate nature retain me 
 in this confounded place. It is no longer a case 
 of choice,' groaned Lord Ballina. 
 
 * But you cannot — must not remain here. Are 
 you so blinded by your infatuated passion as 
 not to have observed the terrible change that 
 has come over Shelah V 
 
 Lord BaUina had indeed observed it with
 
 A life's devotion. 307 
 
 bitter grief and self-upbraiding. And it was iu 
 the hope of sufficiently retrieving his losses 
 to enable him to pay his heavy hotel-bill, and 
 quit Baden, that he had risked on this evening 
 every farthing of which he was still possessed. 
 A desperate venture that had left him in a 
 more unfortunate position than before. At 
 present he was so absolutely penniless that pre- 
 viously to seeing Hugh he had entertained the 
 thought — for which, notwithstanding, he loathed 
 and abhorred himself — that he must no longer 
 coldly repel Mrs. Lawrence Brown's advances. 
 For this lady had followed him to Baden, and 
 so conducted herself that it was impossible for 
 even the least vain of men to mistake what had 
 been the motive power that had made her come 
 there. 
 
 And, notwithstanding his daughter's undis- 
 guised aversion and shrinking avoidance of the 
 widow's society, the unfortunate Ballina would 
 certainly, in his despair and desperation, on 
 leaving the Kursaal have taken some ill-con- 
 sidered and irretrievable step, had it not been 
 for Hugh Carmichael's timely arrival. But 
 though he had the fullest reliance on Hugh's 
 
 X 2
 
 308 A life's devotion. 
 
 judgment, as he reproachfully alluded to 
 Shelah, the old jealousy of his influence over 
 her asserted itself, and he said, sullenly, 
 
 ' You have seen her then already, and she 
 has been giving you a detailed account of her 
 good-for-nothing parent's doings.' 
 
 ' Nothing of the kind. 1 found her in the 
 gardens, anxiously watching for your arrival, 
 and in a state of pitiable agitation. She im- 
 plored me to seek for you. The dreadful event 
 which took place here last week appears to 
 have completely shattered her nerves. Oh, 
 Ballina ! how could you expose her to the 
 chance of witnessing such a catastrophe?' 
 
 * Have you come here to ^^reach me a sermon 
 on my parental duties?' still more sullenly re- 
 sponded Lord Ballina, though fully alive to the 
 truth of every Avord his friend uttered. 
 
 ' You know better. I have simply come at 
 Shelah's earnest request to bring you away 
 from a place which fills her young mind and 
 heart with horror and dread. She is now asleep. 
 But 1 grieve to tell you that, in an endeavour to 
 narrate to me the awful event of last week, she 
 became so agitated that it ended in her having'
 
 A life's devotion. 309 
 
 one of those attacks we trusted she had out- 
 grow n.' 
 
 Lord BaUina started to his feet exclaiming, 
 
 * Good God ! I am justly punished. My dar- 
 ling ! Let us go to her at once. Hugh, I am the 
 weakest, most miserable wretch in existence.' 
 
 He struck his forehead, and there was a sob 
 in his voice as he spoke. 
 
 'Nay, do not be too alarmed. She is asleep 
 now, and Bridget thinks will remain so. It is 
 only in case she wakes up that your presence 
 will be absolutely necessary to reassure her.' 
 
 ' Oh ! Hugh, what an unnatural parent you 
 must deem me. And yet, you cannot doubt 
 that I love my child with every fibre of my 
 whole heart. It Avas in order to get away from 
 this cursed place — in order to avert a still 
 greater misfortune — that I made that last des- 
 perate plunge to-night. I did not come to 
 Baden with the remotest intention of gambling. 
 Indeed, aware of my own danger, I solemnly 
 vowed never to enter that cursed place. Hut 
 one unlucky day a lady,' Lord Ballina hesi- 
 tated and coloured, and repeated nervously, ' a 
 lady of my acquaintance begged me to put
 
 310 A life's devotion. 
 
 some napoleons down for her. I could not re- 
 fuse without appearing ridiculous, and in her 
 success — for she had a most extraordiuaiy run 
 of luck — I was lost. From that moment, the 
 devil of play took possession of your unfortu- 
 nate friend, and has landed him into a quagmire 
 of inextricable difficulties.' 
 
 The two men were walkiog rapidly in the 
 direction of the hotel as Lord Ballina made his 
 confession, every word of which was a further 
 proof of the speaker's lamentable weakness of 
 character. But Hugh, who had observed his 
 hesitation in alluding to Mrs. Lawrence Brown 
 and foresaw even greater evil for Shelah in the 
 future than he had anticipated, reserved all 
 remarks on his friend's delinquencies for a later 
 period, and asked, quietly, 
 
 * May I ask who this lady is who has proved 
 so dangerous and so seductive a Circe, and suc- 
 ceeded in making you break all your prudent 
 resolutions?' 
 
 * Oh, a Mrs. Lawrence Brown, whose acquaint- 
 ance I accidentally made at Vevay, and who 
 followed us here — and, by Jove ! here she is. 
 Let us hasten ; she will remain talking for an
 
 A life's devotion. 311 
 
 indefinite period. And I want to get to my 
 poor child.^ 
 
 With Hugh as a supporter, Lord Ballina had 
 gained a moral courage whicli would have 
 wholly failed him had he been alone. But, if 
 he wished to escape the widow's observation, he 
 was mistaken. Detaching herself from the 
 friends in Avhose society she was, and wholly 
 indifferent to Lord Ballina's evident desire to 
 avoid conversation and pass on, she held out her 
 hand, saying, with a keen glance into his face, 
 
 * I hope you have had good luck ; but what 
 an inveterate gambler you must be to resist the 
 temptation this heavenly night offers of being 
 out-of-doors, and have you forgotten you were 
 engaged to have supper with me"]' 
 
 The last words were spoken in a tone of soft 
 reproach as, for a moment, she held his hand in 
 hers with tender pressure. 
 
 * I fear I must withdraw from my eugage- 
 ment to-night, Mrs. Brown,' he repHed, ner- 
 vously, glancing at Hugh, and dropping the 
 lady's hand with nncompliraeutary haste. 
 
 She perceived the glance and resented the 
 action, but observed, blandly.
 
 312 A life's devotion. 
 
 * Any friend of yours will be welcomed by 
 me. Pray introduce me. I am sure this must 
 "be Captain Carmichael, of whom I have so often 
 lieard you speak. But his arrival shall not be 
 made the excuse for throwing me over.' 
 
 If Mrs. Lawrence Brown thought to conciliate 
 Hugh by this remark she was mistaken. Her 
 voice and intonation were not those of a well- 
 born woman, and, from the moment she had 
 opened her lips, he had taken a strong aversion 
 to the handsome widow. As the introduction, 
 which was now unavoidable, took place between 
 them, he had ample opportunity of studying her 
 countenance, and was startled, not only at her 
 undeniable good looks, but also at the unfavour- 
 able judgment formed by so young an observer 
 as Shelah on one bearing this fair exterior, and 
 yet a judgment he instinctively felt was correct. 
 
 Recovering from the disagreeable astonish- 
 ment occasioned by the dimensions of the in- 
 timacy between Lord BalHna and Mrs. Brown 
 which her manner asserted, he replied, gravely, 
 
 ' I fear neither Lord Ballina nor I can avail 
 •ourselves of your invitation, Mrs. Brown.* 
 
 * Yes, I am really extremely sorry,' quickly
 
 A life's devotion. 313 
 
 added Lord Ballina, now become quite cou- 
 rageous, *but I am hastening home to my child 
 — she has not been well, and I have only just 
 been apprized of her illness. I am sure you will 
 consider this sufficient excuse for our not join- 
 ing your party, and pardon me for bidding you 
 what I fear must appear a rather unceremonious 
 good-night.' 
 
 Both men bowed hastily and moved on. As 
 they disappeared, Mrs. Lawrence Brown watched 
 them with an angry glance, murmuring, 
 
 ' So I have another foe to combat ! just as 
 fortunate circumstances had rendered my suc- 
 cess certain. Ah ! if it were not for that girl, 
 he would have proposed long ago.' 
 
 Great as was her mortification at the fiasco of 
 the entertainment she had prepared expressly 
 for Lord BalHna, and from which she expected 
 momentous results, not a trace of discomposure 
 was visible on the widow's face as she rejoined 
 her party and said, smilingly, 
 
 ' Wo need not postpone our supper any longer 
 on Lord Ballina's account, for that poor girl of 
 his is ill. It is a sad pity slie has not a proper 
 governess to take care of her, for really that
 
 314 A life's devotion. 
 
 uncouth Irishwoman counts for nothing. But 
 men never understand these matters.' 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence Brown sighed as though pro- 
 foundly touched by Shelah's deserted condition. 
 
 ' If report speaks truly, Lord Ballina will soon 
 have some one to aid him in the care and edu- 
 cation of his daughter,' slily observed one of 
 those present. 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence Brown desired nothing more 
 than that the Baden world should consider 
 a tender understanding existed between her- 
 self and Lord Ballina. But, pretending con- 
 fusion at this remark, she passed her hand over 
 her face, saying, with a pleased simper, 
 
 * Lord Ballina and I are friends, simply friends. 
 And you forget what a determined gambler he 
 is : 1 also have a daughter's welfare to think 
 about, Captain Arkright.' 
 
 Notwithstanding these cunning words, Mrs. 
 Brown was not only perfectly indifferent to the 
 fact of Lord Ballina being a gambler, but upon 
 it she had founded her chief hope of becoming 
 his wife, and was quite convinced that, when 
 her ambitious dream was reahsed, she would be 
 «qual to keeping him within bounds and pre- 
 venting him from dissipating her fortune.
 
 A lifr's devotion. 315 
 
 The real obstacle that impeded her path to 
 victory was, she well knew, Lord Ballina's love 
 for his daughter, and, following Adela's advice, 
 she had since their arrival in Baden made 
 strenuous efforts to win Shelah's good graces. 
 But all her civilities were coldly and determined- 
 ly refused. Offers to take the young girl out 
 driving met with curt refusal. If she gave her 
 Parisian bonhonnieres of extravagant price, she 
 had the mortification of seeing Shelah dispense 
 them with contemptuous, reckless generosity 
 amongst the children assembled in the gardens ; 
 occasionally on a passing beggar. 
 
 Finally one day, with studied civihty, Shelah 
 calmly requested Mrs. Brown to give her no 
 more bon-bons, as she did not care for them, 
 and Bridget did not approve of her eating 
 them, and she never did anything she disap- 
 proved of. 
 
 It was war to the knife after this between 
 Lord Ballina's sensitive, refined little daughter, 
 and the woman who, hating her, yet was deter- 
 mined to become her step-mother. What chance 
 of victory had innocent Shelah, whose only 
 weapon of defence was love for her father, 
 devotion and reverence for a mother's memory,
 
 316 A life's devotion. 
 
 against one who had been scheming all her life, 
 and always with triumphant success. Shelah's 
 dislike of Mrs. Brown had been intensified by 
 an ill-advised remark of her father's, who said 
 one day, with jocose nerv^ousness, when he 
 was overwhelmed with money difficulties, and 
 the dire possibihty had arisen in his mind that, 
 in order to extricate himself from the effects of 
 his own folly, he might be forced to offer the 
 widow his name, 
 
 ' Why, Shelah, you and Mrs. Brown, I am glad 
 to see, appear to be on quite friendly terms.' 
 
 ' On friendly terms ? I hate her more than 
 ever,' was the encouraging rejoinder. « And, oh ! 
 papa, you don't like her really.' 
 
 The beautiful dark eyes of the speaker spoke 
 volumes, and beneath tbeir steady glance Lord 
 Balhna's sank abaslied, for he knew his daugh- 
 ter had uttered the truth. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 // 
 
 London: Printed by Duncan Macdonald, Blenheim House, W
 
 m 
 
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