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 The Old Love is the New. 
 
 % flobcl. 
 
 BY 
 
 MAURICE WILTON. 
 
 IX THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 3C<mbon : 
 
 SAMUEL TINSLEY & CO., 
 31, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND. 
 
 1880. 
 
 [All Rights Reserved.']
 
 8^3 
 
 v.l 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. A WALK HOME FROM SCHOOL - - I 
 
 II. INCHIGEELA - - - -24 
 
 III. THE O'LEARYS - - - - 44 
 
 IV. THE BLIND FIDDLER - - - 7 1 
 V. GOING TO FIGHT THE FRENCH - - 94 
 
 VI. THE UNYANS - - - Il8 
 
 II. TWO KINDS OF REVENGE - - - 135 
 
 VIII. ONLY THE DEATH OF A BABY - - 158 
 
 IX. MY LADY'S BOWER - - - - 1 75 
 
 X. THE BLIND BOY's ' QUID PRO QUO ' - 204 
 
 XI. A NEW LOVE FOR AN OLD - - - 2 22
 
 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A WALK HOME FROM SCHOOL. 
 
 1 Of love and springtime, of happy and gladsome 
 days.' 
 
 1 Master Claverin', faith then will ye stop 
 talkin' to Miss O'Moore; pon my word 
 ye've made me head ache wi' your jab- 
 berinV 
 
 ' It's just time to talk, Mrs. Brien/ said 
 the young urchin addressed ; ' I ought to 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 2 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 be going home by now, instead of spending 
 my time here.' 
 
 ' Faith, then, you're making good use of 
 it. And who should be best judge of how 
 the time passes, I'd like to know — you or 
 I ? It wants ten minutes to twelve. Will 
 ye be standing up all of you now, if you 
 plaise, and be saying your multiplication 
 table ? Master Claverin', say your four- 
 times table !' 
 
 1 I shan't say any more to-day.' 
 
 ' Will ye be rebellin' against your betters, 
 is it, Master Claverin' ? If ye were two 
 years younger I'd birch you. Come, now, 
 begin !' 
 
 ' I shan't, I've done for to-day, and I'm 
 going home ; come along, Kathleen !' 
 
 ' I dare not, Frank, the mistress will 
 be after us,' whispered the little girl ad- 
 dressed.
 
 A WALK HOME FROM SCHOOL. 3 
 
 ' Come along, I tell you ; if you're ever 
 going to be my wife you'll have to do what 
 you're told.' 
 
 Francis Clavering, the son of Mr. Cecil 
 Clavering, of Cionmore, an urchin of ten 
 summers, jumped up upon a bench, took 
 down his own hat from the pegs, and 
 another belonging to a girl, seized Kathleen 
 by the hand, and rushed out from the 
 schoolroom down the little paved walk to 
 the gate of the dame's garden and out 
 into the road. 
 
 * And will ye come back, then ?' screamed 
 the angry dame. 
 
 * Indeed and no/ was the boy's answer. 
 1 Come and try to make me or Miss 
 O'Moore come back, and you'll see what 
 you'll get. My father's always talking 
 about tyrants, and you're one of them.' 
 
 With this, he ran down the road, 
 
 1 — 2
 
 4 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 dragging his little companion with him, 
 although her running powers were far in- 
 ferior to his own. 
 
 They suddenly stopped at the inter- 
 cession of the little girl. 
 
 ' I can run no more, Frank/ she said. 
 ' What a wild fellow you are I When you 
 don't get into a scrape by yourself, you get 
 me into one with you. I declare it's no 
 more of you I'll have.' 
 
 ' Indeed and you'll have me all your life, 
 Kathleen ; you'll marry no one else but 
 me. I shall be away, perhaps a deal, if I 
 become a soldier, but I'll think of you. 
 Come and sit down here under the hedge, 
 and let us talk a little.' 
 
 'And supposing Mrs. Brien comes after 
 us, what will you say then ?' asked Kath- 
 leen. 
 
 ( Say ? I scarcely know ; but she shan't
 
 A WALK HOME FROM SCHOOL. 5 
 
 touch you. Nobody shall ever touch you, 
 if I am by, Kathleen,' said Francis, so 
 earnestly, that his- little companion of eight 
 looked straight into his dark hazel eyes 
 and asked : 
 
 1 Do you really mean that, Frank ? Do 
 you suppose, if you went away for a long 
 time, and I saw anyone else very nice, that 
 I shouldn't like him as well as I do you ? 
 Of course I should; in fact, I'm not sure 
 that I don't like Miles Clark as well as I 
 do you.' 
 
 ' Jf you're certain of that, Kathleen, I'll 
 go and fight him now. No one shall ever 
 take you away from me. Listen to me a 
 bit, will you, instead of trimming your hat 
 with those wild flowers ? I really love 
 you, I do, Kathleen, and when I'm a man 
 I'll marry you. Will you wait for me ?' 
 
 1 I'll see,' answered the little coquette,
 
 6 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 taking up her hat and running at full speed 
 down the road, and looking back roguishly 
 now and then to see if her youthful lover 
 was following her. 
 
 But the boy sat still, a sorrowful look 
 came into his bright eyes, and with one 
 hand he pulled away at the grass which 
 grew on the bank where he was sitting. 
 Presently the little girl stole back beside 
 him and said : 
 
 1 Frank, why are you sad ?' 
 
 ' Because you make me so ; you never 
 listen to me when I talk sense, only when 
 I tell you some story or other about people 
 that never lived,' said Frank petulantly. 
 
 ' Well, tell me a story now, and I won't 
 run away, Frank !' said Kathleen coax- 
 ingly. 
 
 Kathleen O'Moore was the only daughter 
 of Sir Patrick O'Moore, whose estate ran
 
 A WALK HOME FROM SCHOOL. 7 
 
 side by side with that of Mr. Cecil Claver- 
 ing. Her mother had died in her infancy, 
 and she was the only child. 
 
 Sir Patrick was a great sporting man, 
 and also took an interest in farming, so, 
 although he was a most affectionate father, 
 and loved his little child with all the capa- 
 bilities of his rough, warm heart, yet he 
 left her to the care of his housekeeper, and 
 to the education of the village school- 
 mistress. She was growing up like a 
 lovely wild-flower, was very precocious, 
 and her constant companion was Francis 
 Clavering, the only son of her father's 
 friend and neighbour. 
 
 She had sunny-bright hair, light-blue 
 eyes, and a face of perfect proportions, 
 and would grow up, as her father used to 
 say sorrowfully, 'just like her own poor 
 mother.' Though only eight years old,
 
 S THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW, 
 
 she was a coquette ; Francis was devoted 
 to her; she would share his adventures, 
 and was ready for any amount of frolic and 
 fun ; but when he talked of love, she always 
 laughed at him and made him angry by 
 mentioning, as a rival, Miles Clark, the son 
 of the bailiff of a neighbouring estate, 
 whom Francis characterised as a low-born 
 fellow, and beneath a real lady's notice. 
 
 Francis Clavering had an honest, brave 
 young face, his dark eyes told of truthful- 
 ness, and a general expression of frankness 
 captivated all who saw him. 
 
 But to return to the young couple's con- 
 versation. 
 
 1 What sort of a story would you care 
 for, Kathleen ?' 
 
 * Well, it's not to be like the one you told 
 me of yesterday, Frank. That was too 
 plain — it was meant for you and for me.
 
 A WALK HOME FROM SCHOOL. 9 
 
 I want something quite different. Now go 
 on, it's time for me to be home now.' 
 
 * Oh ! you're in no hurry to-day, Kath- 
 leen ; your father is out somewhere.' 
 
 'Just the reason indeed why I must 
 hurry. If he were at home, Mrs. Rouse 
 would just say nothing ; but when he's out 
 she carries on like "gemini !" ' 
 
 * What's that, Kathleen ?' 
 
 1 Papa says it ; I don't know what it 
 means, but I suppose it must be some wild 
 animal,' said the young lady, venturing an 
 opinion. 
 
 1 And why a wild animal, Kathleen ?' 
 
 ' Because I've heard him say it of Mrs. 
 Rouse, Frank. But go on with your 
 story !' 
 
 1 Well, once upon a time,' began Frank. 
 
 1 How long ago ?' interposed the audi- 
 ence.
 
 io THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 * Ten years, perhaps/ said Frank. 
 ' Not long enough, Frank.' 
 
 1 Twenty years ago,' — a shake of the head 
 — ' thirty — forty — fifty — a hundred !' Each 
 suggestion was met by a shake of the head. 
 
 ' In the time of Adam ?' asked the story- 
 teller. 
 
 ' No, because it would have to be about 
 him and Eve, and I'm tired of that ; be- 
 sides, I don't believe it.' 
 
 * Oh, Kathleen !' exclaimed Frank, quite 
 shocked at her impiety, ' it's in the Bible !' 
 
 ' May be it is, but still I never think it 
 true that people had nothing to wear, 
 Frank.' 
 
 1 Why not, Kathleen ?' 
 
 1 Because it would have been so cold.' 
 
 ' But it was hot then,' said Frank. 
 
 * How do you know ?' asked the irre- 
 pressible one.
 
 A WALK HOME FROM SCHOOL. ti 
 
 1 I don't know, but I suppose so, Kath- 
 leen.' 
 
 1 Well, that's too far back. Say Queen 
 Elizabeth's time, Frank 1' 
 
 ' Very well, Kathleen. Once upon a 
 time, when Queen Elizabeth lived ' 
 
 ' When was that, Frank ?' 
 
 ' I don't know ; long ago. There were 
 two boys and a girl ' 
 
 ' Now you're sure it wasn't you and 
 Miles Clark and me ?' 
 
 ' How could it be, Kathleen, so long 
 ago?' 
 
 1 Oh, of course not ! I forgot, Frank.' 
 
 * One was a gentleman's son, and the 
 other a low-born fellow that no real lady 
 would look at ' 
 
 ' But the bailiff's son wasn't alive then, 
 Frank !' 
 
 ' I didn't say that he was, Kathleen !
 
 12 THE OLD LOVE LS THE NEW, 
 
 There are other people like that besides 
 him. Well, the gentleman grew up, and 
 so did the low-born ' 
 
 Francis stopped, as he saw that Kathleen 
 was going to interpose again, so he said — 
 
 ' No, I didn't mean that — and so did the 
 other who wasn't a gentleman. The one 
 that was a gentleman became a soldier and 
 went away to fight, but he loved the girl 
 at home all the same — ?' 
 
 ■ What was her name, Frank ?' 
 
 ' Don't interrupt so often, Kathleen — her 
 name was — was — Kath — no, no — Bridget.' 
 
 1 And was she like Biddy, the dairy- 
 maid ? Why did he love her, Frank, with 
 such red arms and ' 
 
 1 Of course she was beautiful, Kathleen ; 
 there can be a beautiful Bridget.' 
 
 ' Can there ?' asked little Kathleen 
 dubiously.
 
 A WALK HOME FROM SCHOOL. 13 
 
 1 This one, at all events, was lovely — 
 like you, Kathleen,' said Francis, as he 
 could think of no one more lovely. ' Well, 
 the soldier fought bravely and became a 
 great man, but he never forgot Kath — 
 Bridget, I mean ; he kept her always in his 
 pocket ' 
 
 ' But you said that she was at home, 
 Frank !' 
 
 1 Yes, yes ! but this was a picture, like 
 the one your papa always keeps in his 
 pocket, in the old red case with the little 
 piece of hair inside/ 
 
 * I know, Frank ; he makes me kiss it 
 every night.' 
 
 * Does he, Kathleen ?' 
 
 1 Yes, Frank ; but you mustn't tell any- 
 one. Papa said that I mustn't tell Mrs. 
 Rouse, because she would say he was an 
 old fool.'
 
 14 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 ' Is your papa afraid of Mrs. Rouse, 
 Kathleen ?' 
 
 ' No, of course not ; but go on with your 
 story, Frank !' 
 
 1 Well, at last he was allowed to come 
 home, because the war was over ; and so 
 he came back and found that Bridget had 
 married the bailiff's ' 
 
 'Who, Frank?' 
 
 ' No, I mean the other that wasn't a 
 gentleman, who had made himself very 
 rich ; and Bridget had forgotten all about 
 the poor soldier, although she said that 
 she never would forget him, and because 
 the other man, who wasn't a gentleman, 
 had given her some beautiful pre- 
 sents.' 
 
 ' What were they like ?' asked the little 
 minx, with avaricious eyes. 
 
 ' There was a diamond bracelet, and a
 
 A WALK HOME FROM SCHOOL. I5 
 
 horse, and a new silk dress, and lots of 
 other things.' 
 
 * Nothing to eat, Frank I* insinuated the 
 little Kathleen. 
 
 1 Yes, all sorts of cakes and goodies/ 
 replied Frank. 
 
 ' Of course she married him ; except, I 
 suppose, that if the soldier brought nicer 
 things she'd afterwards be sorry. What 
 did he bring, Frank ?' 
 
 ' His arm was in a sling, and he had a 
 lot of medals, like papa, and just enough 
 money to marry.' 
 
 1 Then of course she wasn't sorry that 
 she'd married Miles Clark, Frank ?' 
 
 1 Who ?' asked Francis, in alarm. 
 
 * I mean the other who wasn't a gentle- 
 man,' said Kathleen, trying to recover her- 
 self. 
 
 ' Yes, she was sorry, Kathleen, because
 
 16 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 after she married she was very unhappy, 
 and when the soldier came home, and 
 showed her the old red case that all the 
 velvet was kissed off, she cried.' 
 
 1 Then did she marry him, too, Frank ?' 
 ' No, Kathleen ; she couldn't have two 
 husbands/ 
 
 'What a pity, Frank! What did she 
 do?' 
 
 * She cried, and cried, and cried, until 
 she broke her heart.' 
 
 ' And what did he do, Frank ?' asked 
 Kathleen, with a disappointed look. 
 
 * He did the same, Kathleen.' 
 1 And what then, Frank ?' 
 
 1 They both died, and they put them into 
 
 the churchyard.' 
 
 ' But why did it end so sad, Frank ?' 
 ' Because Bridget didn't wait for the 
 
 soldier, Kathleen.'
 
 A WALK HOME FROM SCHOOL. 17 
 
 1 And if she had waited, Frank ?' 
 'They would have lived happily. Do 
 you like that story, Kathleen ?' 
 
 ' Not a bit, Frank ! I think it is very 
 stupid. If I had been Bridget, I wouldn't 
 have died, because I should have been 
 happy enough with Miles Clark.' 
 
 ' But I didn't say Miles Clark,' urged 
 Francis ; f besides, you wouldn't marry 
 him!' 
 
 1 You meant him, I know, Frank, and I 
 think I shall marry him.' And off ran 
 Kathleen again ; but this time Francis 
 followed her, calling out — 
 
 'You shan't! I'll kill him if you 
 do!' 
 
 Kathleen ran until she came to the gate- 
 way that led into the grounds of her father's 
 house. 
 
 1 Good-bye, Frank,' she said. 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 18 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW, 
 
 1 Good-bye, Kathleen. Will you not 
 kiss me ?' 
 
 1 Not to-day, Frank.' 
 
 * Why not ?' asked Frank sorrow- 
 fully. 
 
 1 Because I don't want to, Frank.' 
 Francis walked on with a sense of in- 
 jury. Presently he heard a voice calling 
 out — 
 
 * If you want a kiss, come back and take 
 one.' 
 
 So he went back and took his coveted 
 reward. 
 
 All this chanced in the springtime, in the 
 days of early love — ' days that were always 
 fair.' There was no shadow to cloud the 
 sky, grief was unknown, and the tiny 
 troubles that came were soon ended, like 
 April showers, and served to make the 
 sunshine that followed more sweet. The
 
 A WALK HOME FROM SCHOOL. 19 
 
 tender leaves of hope were already put 
 forth in the heart of little Frank, and the 
 frost of Kathleen's miniature coquetry- 
 did not nip them, but served rather to 
 strengthen their growth, and to root more 
 deeply still in the boy's heart the determi- 
 nation to make his little neighbour and 
 playmate the companion of his life. Child- 
 like as was the fancy, it was yet serious to 
 him ; day by day he grew more jealous 
 of any attention shown to Kathleen by 
 another; she was his by right, as he 
 thought, and he would brook no rival in 
 the field. She was an angel in his child's 
 eyes — her beauty was perfect, and oft-times, 
 when he called with his father upon Sir 
 Patrick O'Moore, he would stand as if 
 spell-bound when she appeared in some 
 pretty little toilette of quaint brocade or 
 satin, made up for her by the housekeeper 
 
 2 — 2
 
 20 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 from the wardrobes of her mother and 
 grandmother. 
 
 The parents only watched their games 
 as those of children, until at length Francis 
 was sent to school in a neighbouring town, 
 and Kathleen's freedom was very con- 
 siderably curtailed by the introduction of a 
 governess into Sir Patrick's house, who 
 with a firm hand and a firmer will restrained 
 Miss O'Moore's wildness, and gradually 
 changed the romping little school-girl into 
 a well-mannered young lady. Mrs. Rouse 
 even acknowledged the change for the 
 better, in spite of the declaration she made 
 when the governess entered the house, 
 to the effect that ' interlopers never did 
 any good for themselves or for anyone 
 else.' 
 
 Every time that Frank came home for 
 the holidays, Kathleen seemed to be further
 
 A WALK HOME FROM SCHOOL. 21 
 
 out of his reach. When she used to 
 run away from him along the roads he 
 felt like a boy chasing a butterfly ; but 
 now it was almost like looking up at a 
 skylark and trying to reach it with his 
 hand. 
 
 When the time came, Frank was sent 
 to Dublin, to the university, and Kathleen's 
 education was considered ' finished.' Sir 
 Patrick O' Moore, however, had further 
 work for the governess, for in spite of Mrs. 
 Rouse's prophecy, already mentioned, he 
 asked her to become Lady O'Moore, and 
 she consented ; so that when Francis re- 
 turned from his first vacation he found 
 Kathleen with a stepmother. 
 
 Lady O'Moore pointed out to her hus- 
 band that it was quite time to be finding a 
 suitor for his daughter. Sir Patrick sug- 
 gested Frank Clavering as one who
 
 22 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 seemed devoted to her. This, however, 
 did not chime in with the governess's ideas ; 
 she had married a baronet herself, would 
 probably become a baronet's mother, but 
 was not yet content. She had a younger 
 brother, considered by all to be a very 
 handsome fellow ; true, he was only strug- 
 gling into existence as a barrister in Dublin ; 
 but at the same time she believed that her 
 influence over Sir Patrick, and the tendency 
 she noticed in her stepdaughter to obey 
 her father, even were Kathleen not to 
 admire the man chosen for her, would ac- 
 complish her little scheme. It was only 
 natural that Lady O' Moore should wish to 
 serve her own flesh and blood rather than 
 her husband's; so that Francis Clavering 
 soon found to his cost, though not to his 
 surprise, that he had an enemy, and not a 
 friend, in Kathleen's stepmother. He still
 
 A WALK HOME FROM SCHOOL. 23 
 
 cherished the idea of making Kathleen his 
 wife : it formed part of his existence, and 
 he never dreamed of anything but suc- 
 cess.
 
 24 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 INCHIGEELA. 
 
 ' Is she kind as she is fair ?' 
 
 Sir Patrick O'Moore's property was 
 close to the village of Inchigeela, in which 
 Mistress Brien had kept the little school 
 until she slept with her forefathers, which 
 she had been doing for some three years 
 at the time of which we now write. 
 
 The road to Inchigeela, from Crooks- 
 town, affords much beautiful scenery — here 
 a valley richly covered with firs of all 
 shades, with laurels and lilacs; again a 
 gentle hill to ascend, and a rustic bridge to
 
 INCHIGEELA. 25 
 
 cross ; then the country takes a wilder 
 aspect : the mountains of Kerry, Killarney, 
 and Kenmare rise grandly in the distance, 
 while nearer still are those of Gougane, 
 Barra and Sheehee, until, descending a hill, 
 you find yourself in a bleak valley covered 
 with deeply-bedded turf for a long distance. 
 This left behind, you come upon the castle 
 of Drumcarragh, the stronghold of O'Leary; 
 further on, to Boyle's Bridge, o'ergrown 
 with ivy, and spanning with its picturesque 
 arches the winding and silver Lee ; then on 
 again, into a wilder country, until you de- 
 scend a hill and enter the little village of 
 Inchigeela. After quitting this, you come 
 upon three lakes, into which the river ex- 
 pands itself — lakes which present the most 
 animated scenery, dotted over with islets, 
 each of them looking like an enchanted 
 spot.
 
 26 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 Sir Patrick's house overlooked these 
 lakes ; his property was very extensive, 
 was in a high state of cultivation, and 
 every available plot of ground had been 
 reduced to tillage; his father had been a 
 careful farmer, had always lived upon his 
 estate, and never entrusted the care of it to 
 rascally agents and their system of pillage. 
 
 Mr. Clavering, on the other hand, was 
 only just redeeming his property, which 
 was much smaller than that of his more 
 wealthy neighbour. His father had lived 
 in England, had been what was called an 
 ' absentee,' and had given the collection of 
 rents from tenants and the supervision and 
 management of his Irish estates into the 
 hands of a cunning and dishonest agent. 
 The late Mr. Cecil Clavering had reports 
 from time to time of the impossibility of 
 making his tenants pay their rents, while
 
 INCHIGEELA. 27 
 
 in reality they were being collected and 
 pocketed by his trusted bailiff. 
 
 At length he wrote to say that he would 
 come and look after his property for him- 
 self; to this he received a letter, begging 
 him to do nothing of the kind, because if 
 he did he would certainly be shot by one 
 of his discontented tenants. Then he 
 wrote again to say that he must have 
 money, that he could not live upon air ; 
 whereupon his saving agent drew ten thou- 
 sand pounds from his own banker, sent it 
 to his master as a loan, and, as security, 
 mortgaged Clonmore to that amount. This 
 system of pillage had been carried on suc- 
 cessfully until the death of the late owner, 
 when his son, who suspected that some- 
 thing must be wrong, came over to Ireland, 
 took the reins into his own hands, ejected 
 the unfaithful servant, and set about re-
 
 28 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 trieving the property which had been im- 
 paired by him. 
 
 Frank Clavering's education was 
 finished ; he had taken his degree at the 
 university, and his father was about to buy 
 him a commission in the army. He was 
 spending some little time at home, and 
 frequent were the walks and excursions he 
 took along with Kathleen, in spite of her 
 step-mother's invariably preaching about 
 the propriety of a ' chaperone.' 
 
 Sir Patrick laughed at the idea : they 
 were at school together, he said, had grown 
 up like brother and sister, and he would as 
 soon trust his daughter to Frank's care 
 as to any one else's. To this he always 
 received a gentle reminder that the young 
 people were now of a marrying age, that 
 it had been resolved, in those many ' cur- 
 tain ' lectures to which Sir Patrick had to
 
 INCHIGEELA. 2 g 
 
 submit, that Kathleen was to do better 
 than marry Frank Clavering ; and, in 
 order to bring this about, were they not 
 going to spend the coming winter in 
 Dublin ? However, about this time Lady 
 O'Moore presented her husband with a 
 son, and through necessity on her part, and 
 through joy on the old baronet's part, 
 Francis and Kathleen were left to one 
 another's society as much as they liked, 
 and without comment. 
 
 They took rides, drives, and excursions 
 on the lakes, Frank doing all with serious- 
 ness of purpose, and with a firm resolve at 
 heart ; Kathleen laughing at him when he 
 spoke of love, enjoying the pleasure of 
 being with her old schoolfellow and play- 
 mate very much in the spirit of long 
 ago. 
 
 It was late in September that Francis
 
 30 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 one evening pushed off his boat from the 
 shore of one of the lakes. Kathleen was 
 sitting in the stern of it. The sun had 
 gone down behind the hills, but the bright 
 coloured clouds were reflected in the water, 
 and the rushes seemed to grow from a rain- 
 bow of colour. The birds flew low above 
 the water, one of them now and then 
 brushing it with its wings ; the water 
 rippled about the prow of the boat, and 
 Kathleen's hand, over the side of the little 
 vessel, made waves as she went along, 
 gently propelled by Frank's strong arms. 
 At length they reached one of the little 
 islets, on which was a broad sward of grass, 
 with two or three trees growing, now rich 
 in autumn tints, while beneath them the 
 ground was thickly strewn with golden 
 and rosy relics of the trees' summer 
 beauty.
 
 INCHIGEELA. 31 
 
 ' Shall we get out, Kathleen ?' asked 
 Frank, as the side of the boat grazed the 
 islet. 
 
 ' No, Frank ; we will sit where we are. 
 Those are the very first words you have 
 spoken this evening. Have you been 
 dreaming ?' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Frank, smiling, ' of you.' 
 
 • Well, then, please don't do it again ; I 
 don't care to come all this way without 
 speaking a word,' said Kathleen. ' But 
 what have you been dreaming about, 
 Frank ? About me, you say ; but what 
 about me ? 
 
 I Why, I can't make you out exactly, 
 Kathleen ! I soon form my opinion of 
 most people, but I've known you now since 
 I began to exist, and I don't know yet if 
 you care for me.' 
 
 I I have told you again and again that I
 
 32 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 do care for you — what more do you want, 
 Frank ?' 
 
 1 Yes, you have said it, I know ; but have 
 you meant it, or have you only said so just 
 to please me ?' asked Frank earnestly. 
 
 Kathleen laughed softly, and half whis- 
 pered — 
 
 ' I have said it to please you.' 
 
 * Will you be serious for a few minutes ?' 
 pleaded Frank. 
 
 ' Certainly, sir/ replied Kathleen, smiling. 
 
 'Well, Kathleen, when we were children 
 we used to talk about getting married/ 
 
 1 We were foolish then, Frank.' 
 
 1 But if we talk about it now, we are not 
 foolish, Kathleen.' 
 
 ' But I do not mean to talk about it, 
 Frank. I have not made up my mind to 
 get married; I am perfectly happy as I 
 am, and I do not want to give up my free-
 
 INCHIGEELA. 33 
 
 dom yet. If you ask me to marry you, I 
 will say " no," and if anyone else asks me 
 to marry him, I shall give him the same 
 little answer.' 
 
 ' Then I may hope, Kathleen ?' urged 
 Frank. 
 
 ' It is better to live just as we are — I like 
 you and you like me, and I should be afraid 
 to say that you may hope, for fear that you 
 should be disappointed.' 
 
 ' How do you mean, Kathleen ?' 
 
 ' Why, I mean this, that I certainly do 
 not love you, if love is what I have read 
 about and heard of. When I am not with 
 you, you are out of my head ; I have never 
 had a sleepless night on your account, and 
 if you went away, I shouldn't be nervous 
 about you ; I shouldn't watch impatiently 
 for the postman ; I should miss our walks 
 and drives and rows on the lake ; I might 
 
 vol. 1. 3
 
 34 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 feel a little dull until some one else came 
 to stay with us or near us, but then I dare- 
 say I should forget all about you.' 
 
 ' Don't talk like that, Kathleen — you'll 
 drive me wild if you do.' 
 
 1 You bring it on yourself, my friend/ 
 she said saucily. 
 
 ' You will see, Kathleen, that I will 
 never marry anyone but you ; I said it 
 when I was a little boy, I say it now, and 
 I'll keep to it. If I don't marry you it 
 will be your fault, and you will make me 
 wretched for the rest of my life/ 
 
 ' We shall see,' answered Kathleen, 
 laughing ; * there is no fear of your being 
 that. When you go away you will see 
 some one to say all the pretty things to 
 that you have said to me ; I cannot fancy 
 your breaking your heart over me, Mr. 
 Frank Clavering. But don't let us sit here
 
 INCHIGEELA. 35 
 
 any longer ; it's getting cold, and mamma 
 is fidgeting by this time.' 
 
 ' Not about you, Kathleen/ said Frank, 
 taking off his coat again and putting his 
 hands to the oars, ' but about the propriety 
 of your being out alone with me ; with 
 anyone but me it would not matter. I am 
 no favourite with Lady O' Moore, I can 
 see.' 
 
 ' I don't believe that, Frank ! Why 
 should she dislike you ?' 
 
 * Because she is afraid that you will 
 marry me, and she doesn't want that, 
 Kathleen.' 
 
 ' What does she want, Frank ?' asked 
 his fair companion, laughing provokingly. 
 
 1 She wants you to marry some one else, 
 of course. I can see through her little 
 schemes,' said Frank sagaciously. 
 
 1 I cannot see, Frank, that you have any 
 
 3—2
 
 36 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 reason for supposing that. It can make 
 no difference to Lady O'Moore whom I 
 marry/ 
 
 4 Not to her, perhaps, Kathleen, but cer- 
 tainly it might make a great difference to 
 some member of her family — some wretched 
 half-paid barrister or clerk, or something of 
 that sort.' 
 
 ' And do you suppose that I should 
 listen to what she had to say on the subject, 
 Frank ?' 
 
 1 Well, it depends on what sort of a 
 fellow he is ; if he's an old grizzly man, 
 probably not; but if he should happen 
 to be a fine handsome young fellow, why 
 
 then ' 
 
 I should say " no " to him, Frank. I 
 don't mean to be married, so now let the 
 subject be dropped.' 
 
 ' You could settie it, Kathleen, for
 
 INCHIGEELA. yj 
 
 ever, if you would say " yes " to 
 me.' 
 
 1 Well, I won't say " yes M to anyone, 
 not yet at all events. But here we are 
 coming- to the shore, so back-water a bit, 
 Frank, or we shall come with a dreadful 
 bump ; you've been rowing quite fast for 
 two or three minutes.' 
 
 Frank did as he was told, and presently 
 handed Kathleen out on the bank. They 
 walked towards her father's house in 
 silence. At length she said : 
 
 'Are you coming in to-night, Frank, to 
 supper V 
 
 ' No thank you, Kathleen, I shall go 
 straight home when I've seen you into your 
 house.' 
 
 4 Why won't you come, Frank ?' 
 
 1 Because I want to talk with my father,' 
 said Frank sadly.
 
 38 THE OLD LOVE LS THE NEW. 
 
 ' Nonsense, Frank, you can do that to- 
 morrow. I ask you to come/ 
 
 1 No, no, not to-night ; my father will be 
 lonely. He doesn't see too much of me 
 now that I am at home, and I shall be off 
 again soon.' 
 
 ' Where are you going, Frank ?' 
 
 ' To join my regiment, Kathleen.' 
 
 ' Why, but the commission isn't bought 
 yet,' said Kathleen. 
 
 1 My father bought it a fortnight ago, 
 and I am going to join the 88th, Kathleen. 
 But here is your gate, and I will say good- 
 night' 
 
 ' Good-night, Frank,' said Kathleen, 
 almost sorrowfully. ' I'm sorry you're 
 going away so soon. I shall miss you.' 
 
 ' Will you really ?' asked Frank 
 earnestly, taking both hands in his own 
 and looking full into her face ; ' then why
 
 INCHIGEELA. 39 
 
 not make me happy before I go and say 
 -yes"?' 
 
 Kathleen shook her head. 
 
 ■ Not yet, at any rate, Frank ; perhaps 
 when you come back. Good-night ; we 
 shall see.' 
 
 And she went through the gate, up 
 between the tall arbutus hedges, until she 
 was lost to sight. Frank stood looking 
 after her until she had disappeared, and 
 then walked away towards his father's 
 house. 
 
 He reached Clonmore in a few minutes, 
 turned in at the gate, but instead of walk- 
 ing up the gravel path he crossed a broad 
 lawn, which ran up to the foot of a terrace, 
 on which opened the library- windows. 
 He felt certain that he would find his 
 father there, as Mr. Clavering usually 
 spent an hour before supper in looking
 
 40 THE OLD LOVE LS THE NEW. 
 
 over accounts and balancing his exchequer. 
 As Frank approached the terrace he saw 
 that the centre library-window was open, 
 and as he drew nearer he perceived the 
 figure of a man, which every now and then 
 came between him and the light. The 
 figure he could see was dressed in tattered 
 clothes, and he wondered at its being there 
 at such an hour. Frank crept cautiously 
 up the terrace-steps, and as he approached 
 he saw that the figure held something in 
 his hand. That something was presently 
 raised, pointed in at the window ; it was a 
 pistol. 
 
 Francis rushed upon the man, threw up 
 the arm that was taking aim, and the 
 bullet intended for his father's head pierced 
 the library ceiling. Mr. Clavering started 
 up from his table in affright, at hearing the 
 report and the scuffle going on outside the
 
 INCHIGEELA. 41 
 
 window ; he advanced quickly and found 
 his son engaged in a wrestle with a strong 
 ruffianly-looking man. He tried to inter- 
 fere, when science got the better of brute- 
 force, and the would-be murderer lay 
 stretched upon his back. Frank's hands 
 were firmly pressed upon the man's throat, 
 and his knee upon his chest. 
 
 Meantime the alarm was given, and 
 several servants entered upon the scene ; 
 the man was bound hand and foot, was 
 removed to an outhouse, and placed under 
 the guardianship of a couple of dogs until 
 the next morning, when he was to be taken 
 before a magistrate and handed over to 
 the constable to be lodged in the county 
 gaol for trial. 
 
 1 That 'was a narrow escape for me, my 
 boy,' said Mr. Clavering, as he sat down to 
 supper with his son ; ' but for you and for
 
 42 THE OLD LOVE LS THE NEW. 
 
 your coming up as you did, I should have 
 been a dead man now ; you've saved your 
 father's life, Frank.' 
 
 ' Easily enough, father ; but it is a great 
 wonder that I arrived so opportunely ; 
 Kathleen was very anxious for me to stay 
 to supper.' 
 
 ' Then it is a wonder, Frank, that you 
 came when you did,' said his father, 
 smiling. 
 
 Frank joined in the smile, but he felt 
 heavy at heart. 
 
 ' I wonder what grudge that ruffian owes 
 you, father/ he said, by way of turning the 
 conversation. 
 
 ( It is hard to say, Frank. Some 
 grievance real or imaginary, I suppose. 
 You see I'm a magistrate as well as a land- 
 lord.' 
 
 ' Well, I hope he'll be severely pun-
 
 INCHIGEELA. 43 
 
 ished,' said Frank ; ( the ruffian deserves 
 it.' 
 
 ' I'm afraid that doing so won't rid us of 
 enemies like him ; the mischief was done 
 in my father's time ; and where you get 
 rid of one of them, another dozen rise in 
 his place.' 
 
 ' But you are fair enough with all your 
 tenants,' urged Frank. 
 
 ' May be so, my boy ; but I may have 
 punished some relation or friend of that 
 fellow's from the bench, and he tried to 
 pay me off for that.' 
 
 No more was said ; Frank took a look 
 in at the prisoner before he went to bed, 
 and found him lying fast asleep upon a 
 litter of straw.
 
 44 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE o'lEARYS. 
 
 1 Altogether directed by an Irishman.' 
 
 Sir Patrick 0' Moore soon heard of the 
 attempt made upon his neighbour's life, 
 and paid a visit to Clonmore early the next 
 morning. 
 
 1 Well, Clavering, my boy/ he said 
 cheerily, ' not dead yet ! I congratulate 
 you on your escape/ 
 
 ' I have to thank my own son for it, 
 O'Moore.' 
 
 ' Nov/ what do you suppose induced 
 that ruffian to try and kill you, you're
 
 THE LEARYS. 45 
 
 a gentle enough landlord, eh ?' asked Sir 
 Patrick. 
 
 Yes, but you see that hasn't all to do 
 with it ; perhaps I'm being visited for the 
 rogueries of my father's agent, or perhaps 
 I've committed some friend or relation of 
 his for trial ; there's no saying with such a 
 ruffian as this, how long the idea of 
 revenge has been in the family, or how 
 little he himself has to do with the 
 grievance, or supposed wrong done. — 
 Would you like to see him ?' asked Mr. 
 Clavering. ' What will you do ?' 
 
 1 To be sure, my boy, I'll commit him for 
 trial on the spot ; let Frank make his 
 deposition before me, I'll make out the 
 warrant, and the constable shall £0 off with 
 him to the county gaol at once.' 
 
 Mr. Clavering ordered the prisoner to 
 be brought in to the library by two stout
 
 46 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 servants, to have his legs untied, but his 
 arms left pinioned. Frank was also sum- 
 moned, 
 
 The prisoner was brought in ; he was 
 a finely built man, with a sullen cast of 
 countenance, and a determined look. 
 
 Frank made his deposition, and Sir 
 Patrick then addressed the prisoner. 
 
 * What is your name ?' he asked. 
 
 ' O'Leary,' was the sullen reply. 
 
 ' Can you prove an alibi 7 asked Sir 
 Patrick. 
 
 ' I don't know about that, I tried to 
 shoot Mr. Clavering and I didn't manage 
 it, and anyhow I'm sorry that I didn't,' 
 said the prisoner. 
 
 ' And what has Mr. Clavering done to 
 you, O'Leary ?' 
 
 ' Maybe he's done nothin' to me hisself, 
 but his father turned my father out of his
 
 THE LEAR VS. 47 
 
 cabin, and there are all my little ones 
 starvin' at home with not even a potato 
 for the pig ; and I can't stand it, it's the 
 Claverins , doin', an' one of them shall 
 suffer for it, that's all.' 
 
 ' Mr. Clavering's agent may have be- 
 haved badly to your father, O'Leary, but 
 what has that to do with Mr. Clavering or 
 the fact of your children being in want of 
 food ? Why didn't you come to your 
 landlord, one of the best in the county, 
 and ask for assistance ?' 
 
 * An' d'ye suppose, Sir Patrick O' Moore, 
 that Mr. Claverin's agent acted without 
 his master's orders, an' it's like father 
 like son ? It almost chokes me to see 
 them chil'ren o' mine, and the missus too, 
 with ne'er a bit to eat nor drink. " Go to 
 Mr. Claverin'," says she, "an' ask him to 
 help you 1" " I'd as soon go to the divil, '
 
 4 8 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 says I, "as ask that proud man for a dry 
 crust o' bread." An' then I went out an' I 
 took my pistol with me, and I crawled up 
 to those very windows and looked in an' 
 saw how well off the landlords are, and 
 how their tenantry may starve under their 
 .very eyes, an' I said, " No more oppression 
 for me !" an' you know the rest/ 
 
 * Well, O'Leary, I'm sorry that you took 
 such foolish measures ; thank God, you 
 were not a murderer, but you've done 
 yourself more harm than good ; as a 
 magistrate I commit you for trial, and until 
 you are tried, you must go to the county 
 gaol. You're likely to get a stiff sentence, 
 there's been too much of this sort of thing 
 lately.' 
 
 ' And who's to work for the missus and 
 the little uns, Sir Patrick ?' 
 
 ' You should have thought of that
 
 THE OLEARYS. 49 
 
 before O'Leary, you have wronged them, 
 and done yourself no good. But here is 
 the constable,' said Sir Patrick, as a man 
 entered the room, ' I hand you over to 
 him to be conveyed to the gaol.' 
 
 ' May I not go an' say good-bye to my 
 missus ?' asked the prisoner. 
 
 c No, O'Leary, I can't allow it ; you have 
 yourself to thank for all this,' and Sir 
 Patrick signed to the attendants to remove 
 the prisoner. As the man went out, he 
 cast back a look of defiance and hatred 
 at Mr. Ciavering and his son, but said 
 nothing. 
 
 'What a fool that fellow is!' said Sir 
 Patrick thoughtfully. ' What in the name 
 of fate did he think to get for himself by 
 killing you ?' 
 
 1 Those people don't reason, O'Moore,' 
 answered Mr. Ciavering ; ' I suppose the 
 
 vol. i. 4
 
 5 o THE OLD LOVE LS THE NEW. 
 
 poor fellow doesn't reason at all. He had 
 a motive for anger, and he acted upon 
 impulse.' 
 
 1 And the whisky-bottle/ interposed Sir 
 Patrick, laughing ; ' you'll find that he's 
 brought all this misery on himself; and 
 though that rascal of an agent of your 
 father's may have done his family some 
 injury, I don't see what it has to do 
 with the fact of his own children starving. 
 Bless me, these people do nurse up their 
 revenge from one generation to another ; 
 there's no fine feeling in it at all, and so 
 sure as one fellow tries to do what this 
 fellow did, there are others to follow his 
 example.' 
 
 ' Yes ; I suppose if this fellow gets a 
 severe sentence the whole O'Leary clan 
 will be insulted, and you and I shall get 
 into their bad books, O'Moore.'
 
 THE O LEARYS. 5 i 
 
 1 We'll hope not, but we must be careful, 
 Clavering. Do you know whereabouts 
 this fellow's cabin is — you might take a 
 look at his wife and children ?' 
 
 ' Yes, I have an idea ; but as for their 
 starving, I never heard anything of that 
 before. I suppose the fellow spends all his 
 earnings on whisky, and I dare say the 
 poor wife and children suffer accordingly 
 doubtless she is a kind-hearted good soul, 
 and will be shocked to hear of this affair.' 
 
 1 What a brute a man is to make his 
 wife suffer !' said the kind-hearted old 
 baronet. ' I never can refuse a bee^ar 
 when it's a woman ; a man can generally 
 shift for himself. Well, Frank, my boy,' 
 he said, turning to young Clavering, 
 ' Kathleen tells me you're going to join 
 your regiment ! How soon are you 
 going ?' 

 
 5 2 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW, 
 
 * In another week, Sir Patrick,' said 
 Frank. 
 
 * He will find it hard to leave Kathleen, 
 I suspect/ said Mr. Clavering, winking at 
 the baronet. ' When are you going to 
 propose to her, Frank ?' 
 
 1 I have proposed to her, father,' he 
 answered, colouring to the roots of his 
 hair. 
 
 1 What's that ?' asked the baronet, in 
 surprise. 4 She never told me a word of 
 this.' 
 
 1 Probably not, sir,' said Frank ; ' she 
 refused my offer.' 
 
 1 Is that true, Frank ?' asked his father, 
 * I shouldn't have thought it possible. I 
 always looked upon it as an understood 
 thing that you should marry Kathleen. 
 What do you say, O'Moore ?' 
 
 1 I hardly know what to say,' said the
 
 THE OLEARYS. 53 
 
 baronet, quite disconcerted, and remember- 
 ing his wife's expressed opinion on the 
 subject ; ' when a girl says " no n I am sure 
 her father oughtn't to tell her to say " yes," 
 however much he may wish her to marry 
 a man. Never mind, Frank ; there are 
 more ladies in the world looking out for 
 husbands than those who have them/ 
 
 ' They are nothing to me, sir,' said 
 Frank, earnestly. ' I have told Kathleen 
 that if she does not marry me no one else 
 shall.' 
 
 ' Ah ! my boy,' said Sir Patrick, rising 
 to go, and clapping Frank upon the 
 shoulder, ' we all have said that ; if 
 Kathleen sticks to her " no," you will find 
 some one else — she's only a first love ; 
 you'll forget her !' 
 
 1 She is my first, and shall be my last 
 love, Sir Patrick,' said Frank, warmly.
 
 54 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 ' We shall see, my boy, we shall see. I 
 must be off now. Come and say good-bye 
 to me before you go ! I hope you'll make 
 as good a soldier as your father did, Frank, 
 and always escape being shot, as he did 
 last night. Good-bye, Clavering ; go and 
 see Mrs. O'Leary, and try to still troubled 
 waters ; there's nothing like the oil and 
 feather, believe me.' 
 
 1 For cleaning pistols, do you mean ?' 
 asked Mr. Clavering, smiling. 
 
 1 No, for keeping them away ; but still, 
 I needn't preach to you about that ; take 
 care of your head, Clavering, that's all — 
 your son may not always be near you,' 
 and the baronet said farewell. 
 
 1 0'Moore doesn't seem to mind much 
 whether you marry Kathleen or not, 
 Frank/ said Mr. Clavering. ' He used to 
 talk of it to me as a certainty.'
 
 THE OLEARYS. - 
 
 ' That is his wife's doing,' said his son ; 
 4 the governess has little schemes of her 
 own, I am certain of it.' 
 
 ' Perhaps so, Frank ; he and she and 
 Kathleen are going to spend the winter 
 in Dublin, a thing Sir Patrick never did 
 before. His second wife seems to have 
 him under her thumb. But come with 
 me, Frank, to O'Leary's cabin; if his 
 wife is in real distress we must relieve her. 
 I am not sure that I know where it is, so 
 I'll just ring the bell and ask Murphy ; he 
 knows every rabbit-hole, and every rabbit 
 beloncnn^ to it, for miles round.' 
 
 Murphy was a sort of general ' factotum,' 
 half-keeper, half-stableman. He appeared 
 at the door in a few minutes ; his face 
 was exceedingly good - humoured and 
 broad, and he had a head of shock red 
 hair, a lock of which orrew over his
 
 5 6 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 forehead, which he pulled by way of saluta- 
 tion. 
 
 ' Plaise did yer 'oner want me ?' he asked. 
 
 * Yes, Murphy. Tell me where does 
 O'Leary live ?' said Mr. Clavering. 
 
 ' Does yer oner plaise to main the one 
 as lives close by, or the one as lives not 
 very far off, or the one that lives maybe a 
 stone's throw from the stable/ 
 
 1 The one that tried to shoot me last 
 nigiit,' said Mr. Clavering. 
 
 * Ah, thin, yer 'oner, sure it's none of 
 them. For that bla'guard lives maybe 
 two miles from this, and drinks enough 
 whisky to flood the country, and his wife, 
 a decent sowl, into the bargain/ said 
 Murphy, indignantly. 
 
 * And how much do you drink, Murphy?' 
 asked Frank, smiling. 
 
 1 Maybe a couple o' thimblefuls a day,
 
 THE LEAR VS. 57 
 
 Misther Frank, jist enough to keep the 
 life in me. And it's never me ye saw the 
 worse for the cratur.' 
 
 1 Well, that will do, Murphy,' said Mr. 
 Clavering, seeing that the man was inclined 
 to indulge his fancy for talking ; ' where 
 does this O'Leary live ?' 
 
 ' His name, sur, is Mike, and he lives 
 on the road towards Ballingeary, nigh half 
 way there ; not on the road, it's true — 
 there's a lane turns off to the right, just 
 as you get to the other side of the cross ; 
 turn down that — it's a bleak barren sort of 
 a place — but the first cabin as you come 
 to on the left is Mike's.' 
 
 Mr. Clavering and his son took the 
 course Murphy had given them along the 
 beautiful road, by the side of the lakes, 
 which winds round the northern margin of 
 the shore. Then they quitted the lakes,
 
 58 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 entered a lonely valley encompassed by 
 mountains, followed the road towards 
 Ballingeary, until they came to the cross 
 that Murphy spoke of, when they turned to 
 the left down what he had called a lane, but 
 what was in reality nothing but a deep rut, 
 and in winter time was a slough of despond. 
 
 * This property can't be of much use to 
 you, father,' said Frank, as he picked his 
 way along the rut. 
 
 6 Plenty of turf, Frank, but that is all. 
 This must be the fellow's cottage ; at any 
 rate, it's the first on the left. What a 
 horrible place ! These people do live in 
 holes, and seem to love dirt.' 
 
 O'Leary's hut was certainly a wretched 
 place to look at from the outside ; there 
 was a hole in the roof, and the cabin 
 looked more like a pigsty than a human 
 habitation. The door was shut, and Mr.
 
 THE O LEAR VS. 59 
 
 Clavering knocked with his stick. It was 
 opened by a woman miserably clad ; her 
 feet were shoeless and stockingless ; her 
 face was wan and pale, but in spite of that 
 there was beauty there,, and an echo of one 
 time loveliness lurked in the depths of her 
 soft Irish eyes, and in the abundance of 
 her dark hair. She dropped a curtsey, and 
 addressed a few words to her children to 
 quiet them. 
 
 ' Are you Mrs. O'Leary ?' asked Mr. 
 Clavering, kindly. 
 
 1 1 am, sur,' she said, sadly. 
 
 'Well, I am Mr. Clavering, your landlord.' 
 
 1 And is yer 'oner come to turn me out ; 
 shure, I trust ye will have a little mercy. 
 The chil'ren and me have had nothin' to 
 eat to-day, and Mike's been out since the 
 night afore last, and I don't know what's 
 become of him.'
 
 60 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 ' 1 have not come to turn you out, Mrs. 
 O'Leary, I want to talk with you. I 
 have no idea of turning you out ; I will 
 send some one to mend the place for 
 you.' 
 
 ' Faith, thin, yer 'oner, ye needn't take 
 the trouble ; it does mighty fine for us, if 
 you'll jist allow us to stay here and could 
 get a bit of work for Mike,' pleaded the 
 poor woman. 
 
 1 If there is anyone you can send up to 
 the house — one of the children, perhaps — 
 I'll send you down something to eat/ said 
 Mr. Clavering, looking over to a corner of 
 the cabin, where the pig and the children 
 were huddled together. 
 
 ' Yes, sur, I can send Biddy, an' thank 
 you, for I'm nigh fit to drop myself!' 
 
 ' Here are five shillings for you, Mrs. 
 O'Leary, and if you will send up to the
 
 THE OLEARYS. 61 
 
 house every morning there are always 
 plenty of pieces that you can have.' 
 
 ' Indeed, yer 'oner, an' I'm much 
 obliged; I've all along been wanting to send, 
 but Mike wouldn't have it. He's always a 
 ratin' against landlords, an' more partikler 
 about you, sur, or rather your father, until 
 he frightens the life out o' me.' 
 
 ' How does he spend his wages and his 
 time ?' asked Mr. Clavering. 
 
 ' The little money he has, on whisky, 
 and he's always down at the inn in Bal- 
 lingeary a talkin' with a set o' wild fellows. 
 I'm always afraid of his gettin' into trouble, 
 talkin' about freedom an' oppression, an' so 
 on.' 
 
 1 Well, I have come to talk to you about 
 your husband,' said Mr. Clavering, seri- 
 ously. ' I have no good news for you, and 
 neither he nor his family deserve any kind-
 
 62 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 ness from me. He tried to shoot me last 
 night, and very nearly succeeded.' The 
 poor woman turned very pale, and began 
 to cry. ' He is in the county gaol and 
 committed for trial ; I expect he will get a 
 long imprisonment. You can go and see 
 him when you wish, Mrs. O'Leary.' 
 
 < Ah ! Mike, Mike !' she sobbed ; ( I knew 
 it would come to this. Ye were steady 
 
 enough when I married you, and now ' 
 
 the poor woman sat down on a low stool 
 and rocked herself to and fro, crying 
 bitterly and saying, ' Ah ! wisha, wisha !' 
 
 Her little ones gathered round, five in 
 number. The eldest was a ttoy of about 
 thirteen ; he was quite blind, but his face 
 struck Mr. Clavering as being remarkably 
 beautiful. He had an abundance of light 
 golden hair, which curled over his fair 
 forehead. The next to him was a girl
 
 THE O LEAR VS. 63 
 
 with very dark hair, the other three looked 
 like little bundles of dirt, the smallest of 
 them scarcely able to toddle. 
 
 ; Ah, my childers !' sobbed the poor 
 mother, ' worse luck that ye have such a 
 father.' 
 
 ' What has daddy done ?' asked the 
 blind boy. 
 
 1 Tried to murder that gentl'man there/ 
 said his mother. 
 
 Mr. Clavering, having said all that he 
 had to say, took his leave ; he asked the 
 poor woman to send up the little girl to 
 Clonmore for food as soon as she liked, 
 and bade her send the blind boy too. 
 
 1 I like his face,' said Mr. Clavering ; 
 1 and I fancy I can give him some better 
 clothes than he has on, poor boy !' 
 
 ' Thank you, yer 'oner,' said the poor 
 woman, shaking her head ; ' he's mighty
 
 64 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 weak, and I fancy a little touched here/ 
 she added, pointing significantly to her 
 forehead. 
 
 'Why, Mrs. O'Leary?' asked Mr. 
 Clavering, looking fixedly at the beautiful 
 boy, who seemed far too angelic for such a 
 hovel. 
 
 There was a melancholy look in the 
 boy's face, a shade of sorrow over what 
 should have been a happy countenance. 
 The blind must always have a longing, an 
 unsatisfied yearning to take but even one 
 look at the world, just to see what it is 
 like ; one peep at the faces of those who 
 surround them, to change into a reality the 
 ideas they have of persons and things. 
 Mrs. O'Leary looked at her boy too, and 
 a look of affection came into her soft 
 eyes. 
 
 ' He is beautiful,' she said, tenderly ;
 
 THE O LEARYS. 65 
 
 ' too beautiful for me ! the Almighty must 
 have meant him for Paradise, and sent him 
 here — I don't know why. But he always 
 seems to be dreaming, and is always 
 scratchin' away on an old fiddle he 
 has.' 
 
 1 What is his name ?' asked Mr. Claver- 
 
 ing. 
 
 1 Patrick, yer 'oner, and may the saint 
 defend him !' 
 
 ' Well, Pat, my boy,' said Mr. Clavering, 
 kindly, ' you come along to Clonmore with 
 your sister to-day, and bring your fiddle 
 with you.' 
 
 ' Thank you, sur !' replied the boy ; ' I 
 like you, sur !' 
 
 1 Why, my boy ?' asked Mr. Clavering. 
 
 ' Because of your voice, sur,' was the 
 reply. 
 
 ' Good-day, Mrs. O'Leary !' said the 
 
 VOL. i. 5
 
 66 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 landlord ; ' remember what I have told you 
 about going to see your husband ; and 
 mind, whenever you want anything, send 
 to Clonmore.' 
 
 ' Thank you, sur P said the poor woman, 
 dropping a curtsey. 
 
 Mr. Clavering and his son talked about 
 the poor woman for some little time, and 
 about the boy-fiddler. At length Mr. 
 Clavering said : 
 
 'We were talking about Sir Patrick this 
 morning, Frank ; he is quite altered sinc6 
 he married a second time — he seems to be 
 scarcely his own master. But why do you 
 think that Lady O'Moore objects to your 
 marrying Kathleen ? It can make no 
 difference to her.' 
 
 ! She wants Kathleen to marry some 
 relation of her own, I suspect, father ; I 
 dare say she has some one of her poor re-
 
 THE O LEAR VS. 67 
 
 lations in mind for whom Kathleen would 
 be a good match.' 
 
 ' That is possible, Frank. I confess to 
 no great liking for the second Lady 
 O'Moore. There was no house in the 
 county — I may say in the kingdom — where 
 I used to spend a happier evening than at 
 Sir Patrick's, both while his dear good 
 first wife was alive — God rest her soul ! — 
 and during the time that succeeded the sad 
 event of her death. It was three or four 
 years after that before he could speak cheer- 
 fully, but afterwards, until he married again, 
 he was a genial companion. I was always 
 perfectly at home there, always welcome ; 
 but now there is restraint, forced cordiality, 
 and it seems as if the old friendship were 
 decaying, and ceremonious politeness 
 coming in the place of it. Remember, I 
 believe that O' Moore's heart is as lar^e as 
 
 5—2
 
 6S THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 ever, and the grip of his strong hand as 
 honest as ever ; but he's afraid of his wife : 
 she has the management of the house now. 
 I dare say she is a plotting woman : she 
 succeeded, at any rate, in getting a baronet 
 for a husband, and I'm sure she puts on 
 enough airs for the daughter of a duke.' 
 
 1 At any rate, father, she doesn't want 
 me to marry Kathleen. I don't know if 
 she has influenced her in any way, but 
 Kathleen has refused to marry me.' 
 
 1 Never mind, Frank, there will be many 
 a girl fall in love with you, and perhaps 
 you'll find a better wife for yourself than 
 Kathleen O'Moore. I always looked 
 upon it, as I said this morning, as a settled 
 thing that you should marry her ; but a 
 change has come over the spirit of my 
 dream.' 
 
 1 Father,' said Frank gravely, c if I do
 
 THE OLEARYS. 69 
 
 not marry Kathleen, I shall never marry- 
 any one else.' 
 
 ' Well, then, my boy, you must try again 
 with her. She may accept you yet, in 
 spite of whatever she may have against 
 you, or whatever her upstart step-mother 
 may have to say on the subject. I sin- 
 cerely trust that she may. My highest 
 wish, Frank, is to see you happy. I have 
 the greatest confidence in you, into what- 
 ever set you may get in your regiment. I 
 believe you to be, my boy, a man of the 
 highest honour and principle : and when a 
 father can say that truthfully of his son, he 
 ought to be the happiest and proudest man 
 in the kingdom. Would that your poor 
 mother had lived to see you grow up !' 
 
 When they reached Clonmore they 
 found a letter waiting for them in Lady 
 O' Moore's handwriting. It was an in vita-
 
 70 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 tion to dinner for a day early in the next 
 week, in order that Mr. Frank Clavering 
 might be able to accept it before he went 
 away.
 
 THE BLIND FIDDLER. 71 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE BLIND FIDDLER. 
 
 * Widow Machree, 'tis no wonder ye frown !' 
 
 Biddy O'Leary and her blind brother set 
 off for Clonmore about an hour after Mr. 
 Clavering had paid a visit to their father's 
 cabin. 
 
 Mr. Clavering's housekeeper was de- 
 puted to receive them, and to look out 
 some of Mr. Frank's clothes, which he 
 wore when he went to Dame Brien's school, 
 for the blind boy. 
 
 1 If ye plaise, Mrs. Machree, there's two 
 childers belonging to the O'Leary who
 
 72 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 tried to shoot his 'oner last night, that ye'll 
 just have to receive/ said Murphy, appear- 
 ing at the door of the housekeeper's room. 
 
 ' Faith, thin, who says so, ye spalpeen ?' 
 asked Mrs. Machree, indignantly. 
 
 'His 'oner; they're the dirtiest pair I 
 ever set eyes on, an' it will be that their 
 feet will make your tidy carpet in a great 
 mess, I'm thinkin',' said Murphy, with a 
 grin. 
 
 6 Don't stand there grinning like a Kil- 
 kenny cat, Murphy,' said the housekeeper, 
 spitefully. ' If it's Mr. Claverin's orders, 
 of course they must come, though to my 
 thinkin', it's you as should receive them in 
 the stable. Och hone, thin ! it's an argu- 
 ment I don't understand, for a man to try 
 and shoot you one night, and for your 
 housekeeper to feed his children the next 
 day, and clothe them too.'
 
 THE BLIND FIDDLER. 73 
 
 ' An' it's I would be glad enough of the 
 clothes myself,' said Murphy, contemplating 
 his own garments. ' Ye don't happen to 
 have anything for me, Mrs. Machree ?' 
 
 1 Not even a potato peelin'. Be off! I 
 tell you, and bring them children along, if 
 they're to come ; and maybe ye'll see that 
 their feet are a bit clean !' 
 
 Murphy disappeared, and presently re- 
 turned, leading the two little O'Learys by 
 the hand. 
 
 ' The boy can't see because he's blind, 
 Mrs. Machree ; but he's a fine child, and 
 a deal better lookin' than the girl,' said 
 Murphy. 
 
 ' Be off, Murphy ! Come in, child !' she 
 said to the girl, who stood timidly at the 
 door, holding her brother by one hand, 
 and holding up the corner of a ragged 
 apron to her mouth with the other.
 
 74 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 She advanced timidly at the invitation, 
 and Mrs. Machree bade her brother and 
 her sit down. The housekeeper was really 
 a very kind-hearted woman, but she did 
 not like the fact of Murphy's crowing over 
 the quantity of mud that would be brought 
 in upon her tidy carpet. She soon placed 
 food before the two little hungry souls, and 
 told them to eat as much as ever they 
 wanted. 
 
 'Can the boy eat by himself?' Mrs. 
 Machree asked. 
 
 1 Yes, my lady/ answered Biddy O'Leary, 
 in whose eyes the housekeeper was quite a 
 grandee. 
 
 ' Come, my poor boy, eat away ! here's 
 your fork. Give me that fiddle you're 
 cuddling there ! ye don't want it now/ and 
 she took the old worn instrument from 
 him.
 
 THE BLIND FIDDLER. 75 
 
 Biddy looked across at her brother, and 
 laid down her own spoon and fork, which 
 she had been plying vigorously. 
 
 1 Why don't the boy eat ?' asked the 
 housekeeper of Biddy. 
 
 ' Please, my lady, he can't !' was the 
 timid answer. 
 
 1 And why not ? Does he want to be 
 fed?' 
 
 1 No, my lady, but his fiddle !' 
 
 1 What about it — does he suppose I 
 want to steal it ?' asked Mrs. Machree, 
 impatiently. 
 
 ' I can't eat without it,' said the boy, 
 sorrowfully. 
 
 1 Bless me ! what do you mean, child ?' 
 asked the housekeeper, doubting her sense 
 of hearing. ' What can your fiddle have 
 to do with your eating ?' 
 
 ' Please, my lady,' urged Biddy, ' mither
 
 76 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 says he's a bit gone, and it's just a fancy 
 of his.' 
 
 ' Well, of all the oddities I ever heard of 
 that's the oddest. But here's your fiddle, 
 and now eat away !' 
 
 As soon as little Pat had his property 
 returned to him, he began to appease his 
 hunger, and Biddy went on with her repast. 
 In an incredibly short space of time, plates 
 which had been piled high with food were 
 left empty. 
 
 ' Now here's a basket for you, full of 
 such pieces as neither of you ever tasted 
 before. Mind and take them home care- 
 fully ; here's a coat for you> my boy, and a 
 fine shawl for your mother, which belonged 
 to Mrs. Claverin' herself, and a deal too 
 good for the like of me or you, but still 
 it's the master's orders, so take it,' said 
 the housekeeper, eyeing the article wistfully.
 
 THE BLIND FIDDLER. 77 
 
 ' And is it all finished now ?' asked the 
 boy, discontentedly. 
 
 ' Indeed, and is that all the thanks, it is, 
 that Mr. Claverin' and myself gets for all 
 our trouble ?' said Mrs. Machree sharply. 
 ' Ye're a strange pair, or rather the boy — 
 the girl is nice spoken enough/ put in 
 the housekeeper, remembering with some 
 pleasure that she had been addressed as 
 'my lady.' 'He won't eat without his 
 fiddle, and, when he does eat, he eats as 
 much in one meal as I should eat in a 
 month, and then wants to know if that's 
 all ! Bless me, is it dessert ye want, like 
 the gintry themselves, or a glass of 
 punch ?' 
 
 1 Ye don't understand me,' said the boy 
 sadly ; ' I want to see Mr. Claverin'.' 
 
 1 And what do ye want of Mr. Claver- 
 in' ? Sure it's the people, the likes of
 
 78 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 you, as is fed on potato-peelings, that are 
 never satisfied, although your own father 
 tried to kill Mr. Claverin with his own 
 hands last night/ 
 
 ' He asked me to brino- me fiddle an to 
 play a bit to him, and shure ye seem 
 moighty angered wi' me/ said the boy 
 deprecatingly. 
 
 ' Not a bit, my child, but I don't under- 
 stand the ways of such as you ; maybe 
 your mother's right, and that ye're a bit 
 soft in your head, poor boy !' said Mrs. 
 Machree sympathisingly. 
 
 ' Shure thin, that's not true,' said the 
 blind boy with emphasis, ' becos I fiddle 
 a bit, and none of them is blind, they don't 
 feel as I feel.' 
 
 'Well well, child, I don't want to hurt 
 you ; shure it's the Almighty knows as you 
 suffer enough of His own pleasure with yer
 
 THE BLIND FIDDLER, 79 
 
 poor eyes fast closed/ said the house- 
 keeper. ( Now what good does scratching 
 away on an old fiddle do you, I'd like to 
 know ? Better to set you at some 
 work.' 
 
 ' I don't want to work,' said Pat crossly ; 
 * when I play on my fiddle, I can almost 
 see, and I spake far better what I mean 
 by it than by talking there now, and it's 
 not ye nor any one else as seems to know 
 what I mean.' 
 
 1 Ah ! ye're a queer child, and there's 
 something a bit unnatural about you ; 
 let's hope the divil has nothing to do 
 with it,' said Mrs. Machree, crossing her- 
 self. 
 
 ' Please, my lady,' put in Biddy, ' he's 
 sometimes out-o'-doors all night a scratchin' 
 away, an' mother's afraid of a clurechaun 
 carryin' him off some night, though he
 
 80 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 always carries an image of the Blessed 
 Vargin round his neck.' 
 
 1 You seem to be a child of sense, at any 
 rate/ said the housekeeper to the little 
 girl. ' And now be off home with you, 
 and remember that your mother and the 
 others aren't as well filled as ye are.' 
 
 'And may I not see Misther Claverin' ?' 
 asked the boy. 
 
 1 Bless me, child, he's too much occu- 
 pied with one thing or the other. What 
 have you to say to him ?' 
 
 As the housekeeper finished her last 
 sentence, Murphy appeared at the door 
 and said, with a broad grin : 
 
 ' If you plaise, thin, Mrs. Machree, it's 
 foine company you're entertainin' to-day.' 
 
 1 What do you mean ?' asked the house- 
 keeper viciously. 
 
 ■ Mr. Claverin's compliments to Master
 
 THE BLIND FIDDLER. 81 
 
 and Miss O'Leary, and will ye plaise jist 
 step in to the dinin'-room,' said Murphy 
 comically. 
 
 * Then I am to see him !' exclaimed the 
 blind boy joyfully, his whole face lighted 
 up by a bright smile. 
 
 1 Yes, and it's the queerest business I've 
 ever set eyes on,' said the housekeeper, in- 
 dignantly ; ' there's me own sister that has 
 never been asked even to take a glass of 
 wine with Mr. Claverin', and these here 
 brats are too good for the housekeeper's 
 room. Such a want of propriety in Mr. 
 Claverin' ! I s'pose he's too good-natured, 
 and aftur bein' shot at, too !' 
 
 1 Shure an' if ye want civilities,' said 
 Murphy, grinning, ' for yer sister, ye 
 moight try an' shoot his 'oner yerself, Mrs. 
 Machree !' 
 
 ' Will ye keep a civil tongue in your 
 
 vol. i. 6
 
 82 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 head, Murphy ?' said the housekeeper, in 
 an annoyed tone. l What with these two 
 childers and yerself, it is, I'm nigh 
 daffed !' 
 
 e Come along,' said Murphy to the two 
 children, spitefully, ' an' I'll show you some 
 company worth having ; there's a moighty 
 difference, I can tell you, 'twixt the 
 doining-room an' the housekeeper's-room 
 in this house.' 
 
 Biddy took her blind brother by the 
 hand and led him after Murphy, who 
 threw open the dining-room door and 
 announced in a comical manner : c Misther 
 and Miss O'Leary, plaise sur.' 
 
 ' Well, Pat, my boy,' said Mr. Claver- 
 ing, kindly, taking no notice of Murphy's 
 announcement, l so you have brought your 
 fiddle.' 
 
 ' Yes, sur, thank you,' said the blind
 
 THE BLIND FIDDLER. 83 
 
 boy, smiling; 'an' it's myself an' Biddy 
 as has to thank you for plenty to eat an' 
 drink.' 
 
 ' Quite welcome, my boy,' said Mr. 
 Clavering. * Now, Pat, I want to know 
 what your father used to say about 
 me?' 
 
 c A deal against yer 'oner,' said Pat ; 
 ' me an' my fiddle used to talk it 
 over.' 
 
 ' How do you mean, my boy ?' 
 1 Father used to go on so wild, sur, an' 
 I could jist make me fiddle strike it off to 
 a word better than I could say it,' said the 
 boy, nodding his head. 
 
 1 But what did he say, Pat ?' asked Mr. 
 Clavering, not understanding the boy's 
 sentiments, which seemed to him strange 
 and calculated to form part of the weak- 
 ness of intellect which Mrs. O'Leary 
 
 6—2
 
 84 THE OLD LOVE LS THE NEW. 
 
 had mentioned. ' Did he say that I was 
 cruel ?' 
 
 ' He said that your father turned us out, 
 an' that since thin everything has gone 
 wrong. " I have a grudge agin them 
 Claverin's," he used to say ; " my own 
 father said to me when he was a-dyin' 
 on a heap o' straw, ' Mike, my boy, don't 
 forget what I've tould yer of the Claverin's, 
 an' moind you carry it out.' ' I swear it, 
 father,' " an' since thin, yer 'oner, he's been 
 puttin' it off an' puttin' it off until he sees 
 us all a starvin' an' himself out of work, 
 an' thin he tried to kill you. I used to 
 talk with him about it, an' he used to talk 
 to me as though I was a man ; father loves 
 me, he does, an' sometimes listens to me 
 when he'd a'most stroike mother over the 
 head if she said anythin'. About a week 
 ago he comes home, an' he says, " Pat, my
 
 THE BLIND FIDDLER, 85 
 
 boy, come out wi' me an' bring your fiddle 
 along wi' you." So I went out an' he took 
 me a long way off. At length he stopped, 
 an' he says, " Now you may play away," 
 an' I began, an' I hears him fire one shot 
 an' thin another an' another, and I said to 
 'im, " Father, what are you doing ?" An' 
 he says, " Practisin' to shoot well." " For 
 what ?" says I. " I'm a goin' to shoot 
 birds," says he. " That's a lie," says I ; 
 " father, you're goin' to shoot Mr. Cla- 
 verin'." " I'm not, ye young divil," says 
 he, an' he struck me over the head, the 
 first time he ever did such a thing, an' a 
 day or two aftur that he went away, an' 
 the next time I hears anythin' of 'im was 
 when you come to see my mother, an' I 
 heard my father was in prison. I asked 
 her why, but all along I guesst what it 
 was.'
 
 86 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 ' And is that all, Pat, that you know ?* 
 asked Mr. Clavering. 
 
 ' That is all, sur/ was the answer. 
 
 'Well, now you may give me a tune, 
 Pat ! Fiddle away !' 
 
 The blind boy turned his poor old fiddle 
 and began a wild weird strain ; at first, soft 
 and low, like the weeping of a little child 
 or mourning mother, ending in a sigh, then 
 going off into a wild confusion like the 
 roaring of wind through a forest and the 
 dance of the dead leaves, then ending up 
 with a quiet, sweet melody that sounded 
 like the peace of a delivered soul, like 
 gratitude for some sanctuary or haven of 
 rest after a storm of troubles. 
 
 Mr. Clavering listened; he understood 
 the beauty of the last passage, the rest was 
 lost upon him. 
 
 ' You play very beautifully, Pat,' he said,
 
 THE BLIND FIDDLER. 87 
 
 'and I'll buy you a new fiddle, if you like, 
 and you may come and play to me two or 
 three times a week. You can get rid of 
 that old thing !' 
 
 1 Get rid of this !' exclaimed the boy, 
 passionately, as the tears came from 
 beneath his closed eyelids ; ( of this, yer 
 'oner, my old friend that I love better than 
 the whole wurld put together, never ' 
 Plaise God when I die they'll bury it with 
 me.' 
 
 ' Very well, my boy, then you shall keep 
 to the old fiddle ; it makes beautiful music, 
 although it is old.' 
 
 ' Plaise yer 'oner,' put in Biddy, ' it's a 
 wonder he could play at all in the house, 
 he never does.' 
 
 1 Why not, my little woman ?' asked Mr. 
 Clavering. 
 
 1 Because, yer 'oner/ said the boy, with
 
 88 THE OLD LOVE LS THE NEW. 
 
 feeling, ( I can't play in the house ! I can't 
 think in the house ! But when I go out, 
 and it's mostly o' night-times, nights when 
 there's wind or a storm, I sit down in the 
 middle o' a field or under a hedge, I take 
 off my cap, an' as the wind comes a blowin' 
 about my hair, I feel as though it were the 
 fingers o' God, an' then I speak to him 
 with my fiddle. I tells Him by it that I'm 
 sad ; I ask Him by it to let me see, even for 
 half an hour ; I thank Him for what I have, 
 an' then I plays to remind meself o' what 
 heaven is, an' I forgets where I am. 
 That's why my mother says I'm soft, becos 
 she never knows indeed what it is I'm aftur 
 — it's only meself that knows what I mean.' 
 Mr. Clavering sat musing upon what 
 the boy had said ; it seemed very strange 
 to him, to find a boy with so much delicacy 
 of feeling, such a love for music ; and he
 
 THE BLIND FIDDLER. 89 
 
 could not but think how often it is the 
 case that where God has seen fit to de- 
 prive man of one of his senses, there is 
 atonement made either in a double power 
 of one of the other senses, or a compensa- 
 tion in the shape of some prominent faculty, 
 or in some highly endowed mental or moral 
 possession. 
 
 ' Well, Pat, you must come another day 
 and play for me. Is there anything I can 
 do for you ?' 
 
 ' Yes, yer 'oner ; I won't take a new 
 fiddle, but I'd like some new strings for 
 this one ; they're well-nigh done for now, 
 an' I'm always a fearin' lest one of them 
 should give.' 
 
 1 You shall have seme new ones, my 
 boy, and come as often as you like.' 
 
 ' How long d'ye think it will be, sur 
 afore I see my father agin ?'
 
 90 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 ' I don't know, Pat, but you can go to 
 the gaol when you wish to/ 
 
 ' Thank ye, sur, good-day/ and Biddy, 
 with a low curtsey, led her brother away. 
 
 * Strange boy that,' said Mr. Clavering 
 to his son. ' I dare say he finds more real 
 pleasure in that scratching than many a 
 professional violin-player.' 
 
 ' He certainly has some odd notions/ 
 said Frank, 'but he plays uncommonly 
 well for a boy who has never been taught/ 
 
 ' Teaching might have spoilt his music, 
 Frank ; art is a poor imitation of nature, 
 after all.' 
 
 ' To change the subject, father, I suppose 
 you mean to dine with the O'Moores on 
 Thursday ?' 
 
 ' Yes, to be sure, I fancy it's a sort of a 
 farewell dinner to you before you go away. 
 You must have another try with Kathleen,
 
 THE BLIND FIDDLER. 91 
 
 Frank ; if she will say " yes/' you will go 
 away the happier.' 
 
 ' Indeed I should, father, but I fear 
 there is no chance of that/ 
 
 Mr. Clavering thought of the little blind 
 boy a good deal for the rest of the day ; 
 he seemed to be strangely drawn towards 
 him. Pat was such a contrast to his sur- 
 roundings, seemed to have so much natural 
 refinement and talent, that Mr. Clavering* 
 who, as a rule, reflected much upon 
 character, felt a strong inclination to know 
 more of the child. 
 
 Mr. Clavering was English, and not 
 impulsive ; he was drawn towards the boy 
 by some connecting link of sympathy 
 between them — the boy had quite wound 
 himself round the man's heart, although 
 they had met but twice. 
 
 Pat fully enjoyed the gift the Almighty
 
 92 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 had given him ; the polish of art in music, 
 the finish of education, serve, perhaps, to 
 take off the keen edge of it as a natural 
 endowment. 
 
 The boy thought in music, he spoke to 
 his God by means of it, he expressed his 
 sentiments in it, those of joy as well as of 
 sorrow ; he displayed his affection in it ; a 
 cross word from his father that dwelt upon 
 his sensitive mind was orot rid of in the 
 sighing of his strings ; he bemoaned his 
 blindness in it, and when all around failed 
 him, because they did not understand him, 
 because his mind was too delicate for their 
 rough handling, then it was that he went 
 out alone, even on the stormiest nights, 
 and found comfort in the companionship of 
 melody. 
 
 You may express your ideas of nature 
 upon canvas, you may tint the sunset
 
 THE BLIND FIDDLER. 93 
 
 thereon, and the spring-time and the 
 winter, but you cannot paint your own 
 sorrow, your own joy, you cannot put your 
 individual mind upon it. But in music 
 you can do this ; you can recall the past, 
 you can breathe out your grief jn a plain- 
 tive strain, or express your pleasure in a 
 gay and lively measure, and not only do 
 you feel this yourself, but musical souls 
 harmonise with your own, and eyes dim 
 with tears and lips curl with laughter, as 
 your hand wanders over the notes of a 
 piano, or an organ, or a harp, or the bow 
 glides backwards and forwards over the 
 strings of a violin. But Mr. Clavering did 
 not enter into a twentieth part of the feel- 
 ings of the musical Irish lad.
 
 94 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 GOING TO FIGHT THE FRENCH. 
 
 ' For King George upon the throne.' 
 
 Mr. Clavering accepted Lady O' Moore's 
 invitation to dine at Arbela, Sir Patrick's 
 seat. He and his son were the only 
 guests ; it was a farewell dinner to Frank, 
 who was to join his regiment in a couple 
 of days, which would soon be ordered to 
 Spain to win spurs for itself and to aid in 
 gaining honour for old England in the 
 Peninsular War, which so far looked dark 
 for the prospects of the allies. 
 
 Lady O' Moore was glad to get rid of
 
 GOING TO FIGHT THE FRENCH. 95 
 
 Frank ; he was a formidable suitor for the 
 hand of Kathleen, and stood seriously in 
 the way of her little designs. When he 
 was out of the country, and consequently, 
 as she thought, out of Kathleen's mind, 
 she would be able to bring forward her 
 brother Hugh, whom she intended as a 
 husband for her step-daughter. She fancied 
 that, aided by his good looks and his 
 fascinating manner, he would walk over 
 the course and win a bride whose dowry 
 would amply fill his pockets, which was 
 always only too light. 
 
 Sir Patrick knew that his lady wished to 
 make what she considered a good match 
 for his daughter, but he fancied that she 
 sought to better Kathleen's choice by 
 bringing forward some peer or titled 
 person ; he never dreamed that one of her 
 own family, of whose pedigree her ladyship
 
 96 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 seemed doubtful, would be the one brought 
 forward, not on account of Kathleen's 
 happiness, but in order to serve his wife's 
 selfish ends. It was perhaps natural that 
 Lady O'Moore should seek to elevate her 
 own family ; but had she been a woman of 
 strict integrity and heart, and loved her 
 husband as a wife should love him that is 
 a part of herself, she would never have 
 stooped to study the fortune of a younger 
 brother in preference to the happiness of 
 her husband's daughter. 
 
 Kathleen did not even as yet know that 
 her step-mother had made any suggestions 
 concerning her marriage; she saw that 
 Lady O'Moore did not care for Frank, or 
 behaved as though she did not, but this 
 she attributed to personal pique. 
 
 She was glad that her step-mother had 
 induced Sir Patrick to go to Dublin for the
 
 GOING TO FIGHT THE FRENCH. 97 
 
 winter ; the visit promised a gaiety forming 
 a marked contrast to her monotonous round 
 of country life, which would be rendered far 
 less bearable by the departure of Frank 
 Clavering. 
 
 The dinner was not of the liveliest ; as 
 Mr. Clavering had remarked to his son, 
 Lady O'Moore had introduced a restraint 
 which was, to say the least of it, unpleasant. 
 She had adopted a hauteur with her rise in 
 life, which, always a disagreeable adjunct, 
 is still more so when exercised by one who 
 has risen, and who tries to adopt a dignity 
 which is foreign to innate nature and to 
 bringing up. She had ' corrected ' her 
 husband's ' freedom of manner,' had sub- 
 dued his hilarity and thinned off his harm- 
 less little jokes, until she brought about a 
 change in Sir Patrick which was painfully 
 noticeable to those who knew him as the 
 
 vol. i. 7
 
 S8 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 light-hearted companion of old. The 
 consequence was, that in the presence of 
 his wife he seemed to be studying what 
 he was saying instead of coming out with 
 what was natural. 
 
 ' Have you been to see the O'Learys 
 yet ?' he asked Mr. Clavering, during the 
 course of dinner. 
 
 'Yes, O'Moore, I went to see them the 
 very day you were last at Clonmore/ 
 replied his friend. 
 
 ' What O'Learys are those ?' asked 
 Lady O'Moore, affectedly. 
 
 'Tenants of mine, Lady O'Moore; the 
 father of them is the man who tried to 
 shoot me,' answered Mr. Clavering. 
 
 ' Fancy troubling one's self with people 
 like those, Mr. Clavering. I believe that 
 Sir Patrick would shake hands with some 
 of his tenant's pigs, if I would let him.'
 
 GOING TO FIGHT THE FRENCH. 99 
 
 ' One may be polite, even to a pig, 
 Lady O' Moore, without much injury to 
 one's self,' said Mr. Clavering, quietly. 
 
 1 I think it is a great mistake to try and 
 take people out of their positions, and to 
 lower yourself by trying to do so,' said her 
 ladyship, haughtily. 
 
 Mr. Clavering suppressed a smile. ' It 
 is hard for us to say what we were a 
 generation or two back, Lady O'Moore, is 
 it not ?' he asked. 
 
 Her ladyship did not answer this home- 
 thrust, but asked, ' What is there remark- 
 able about these dreadful O'Learys, Mr. 
 Clavering ?' 
 
 1 Mrs. O'Leary is a nice-looking woman, 
 and has been pretty, Lady O'Moore.' 
 
 1 Do you admire common people's 
 beauty ?' asked her ladyship, with a weari- 
 some drawl. 
 
 7—2
 
 ioo THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW, 
 
 1 Certainly I do ; there are far prettier 
 faces to be seen in cottages than in palaces. 
 In one, you get nature — the white face is 
 natural, and the blush the bloom of health ; 
 in the other you very often find nature is 
 aided, or rather, in my idea, impaired, by 
 artificial means.' 
 
 ' Well, then, I presume you found 
 natural beauty in the OLearys, Mr. 
 Clavering ; you are certainly very severe 
 on the upper classes. What else did 
 you find ?' asked her ladyship, taunt- 
 ingly. 
 
 'Genius, Lady O' Moore. There is a 
 wonderful boy in the family, with a face 
 that would have made an admirable model 
 for an infant Baptist, had he the use of his 
 eyes, poor child ; and more than this, he is 
 a marvellous violinist.' 
 
 ' How absurd to encourage a person of
 
 GOING TO FIGHT THE FRENCH. 101 
 
 that class in such an accomplishment ! He 
 should learn to work, and leave the violin 
 to his betters. I would put him at the 
 plough-tail ; I should take away his violin, 
 and let him do as every one else in his 
 class does/ 
 
 ' Putting aside the impossibility of a 
 blind boy's being able to plough,' rejoined 
 Mr. Clavering, rather warmly, ' and sup- 
 posing him to have his sight, he would 
 never make a good plough-boy. Burns's 
 poems were better than his furrows, I'll be 
 bound ; how could you have taken his 
 poetry out of him ?' 
 
 I That is different, Mr. Clavering ! but 
 the idea of encouraging music in an Irish 
 cabin.' 
 
 I I do not see that it is at all different ; 
 the boy has no encouragement, Lady 
 O' Moore : his mother calls him mad, and
 
 io2 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 no one around him enters into the fine feel- 
 ings of the lad. He expresses his whole 
 soul in music, and if you were to take 
 away the child's violin, you would, I dare 
 say, kill him ; at any rate, you would take 
 away the sunlight of his life.' 
 
 * I can scarcely follow you, Mr. Claver- 
 ing/ said her ladyship ; ' the boy must 
 have lessons before he can make a profes- 
 sion of his music.' 
 
 ' The boy never will make a profession of 
 it ; and if he did, he could charm more 
 really musical souls by the pure outcome 
 of his genius than he ever would after any 
 number of wearying music lessons from 
 master or mistress.' 
 
 1 Such an occupation as violin-playing 
 seems to me to be utterly at variance with 
 the boy's position ; if he has a real talent, 
 which I doubt in a person of his class, you
 
 GOING TO FIGHT THE FRENCH. 103 
 
 ought to suppress rather than encourage 
 it/ said Lady O'Moore. 
 
 ' Take care, Clavering my boy P put in 
 Sir Patrick, by way of pleasing his wife. 
 ' You'll get the worst of it/ 
 
 ' How are you to do that, Lady O'Moore, 
 may I ask ?' asked Mr. Clavering, warmly. 
 ' Are you going to say that all real genius is 
 confined to upper classes ? If you reflect 
 a little upon what you know of great men, 
 artists, musicians, sculptors, what you will, 
 you must acknowledge that some of the 
 greatest of them have come from the 
 lowest classes of life. God doesn't give all 
 His gifts to people who are great in the eyes 
 of the world, anymore than he puts His 
 most beautiful flowers and fruits upon the 
 finest of trees ; and I can only say that it 
 would not only be a senseless task to take 
 away poor Pat O'Leary's old fiddle, but it
 
 401 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW, 
 
 would be a cruel shame, apart from the fact 
 of there being no object gained by doing 
 so/ 
 
 ' I'm afraid you are a republican, Mr. 
 Clavering/ said her ladyship, smiling, and 
 not knowing what else to say. 
 
 ' 1 am nothing of the sort, Lady O'Moore. 
 I should be as sorry to see you scrubbing 
 boards as I should be to see Pat O'Leary's 
 fiddle-bow broken across any one's knee, 
 and the poor blind boy deprived of his 
 highest pleasure, in a twentieth part of 
 which it is impossible for us to enter.' 
 
 Sir Patrick here interposed, and turned 
 the conversation by addressing Frank 
 Clavering, who had been conversing in 
 an undertone with Kathleen throughout 
 dinner. 
 
 'When are you going away, Frank, my 
 boy ?' he asked.
 
 GOING TO FIGHT THE FRENCH. 105 
 
 'On Thursday morning, early, Sir 
 Patrick/ replied Frank. 
 
 1 And when have you to leave for Spain, 
 Mr. Frank ?' asked Lady O'Moore. 
 
 ' I do not know, Lady O'Moore — very 
 soon, I expect ; there is a demand for 
 more troops.' 
 
 ■ What a terrible thing war is !' sighed 
 her ladyship, philanthropically. 
 
 ' Yes ; but it will go on as long as we 
 have such an unscrupulous villain as 
 Buonaparte alive !' said Sir Patrick. 
 1 Happy the Briton who can get a slap 
 at a rascal like that! Give him one 
 for me, Frank, my boy, if you get the 
 chance.' 
 
 1 I will, Sir Patrick !' said Frank, smiling; 
 then, turning to Kathleen, he said, 'You 
 will come for a ride with me to-morrow, 
 won't you ? It is my last day here for a
 
 106 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 long time ; perhaps I never might come 
 back!' 
 
 ' Nonsense, Frank ¥ said Sir Patrick ; 
 * kill as many French as you like, but take 
 care of yourself. Of course Kathleen will 
 spend to-morrow with you ; it would be 
 hard lines on you if she couldn't, after a 
 friendship that began with babyhood.' 
 
 Lady O'Moore looked severely at her 
 husband, and said, ' I have made other ar- 
 rangements for Kathleen to-morrow, my 
 dear.' 
 
 e Then I cannot carry them out, mamma/ 
 said Kathleen, boldly. * I shall of course 
 spend the day with Frank/ 
 
 ' As you like, Kathleen, as you like, but 
 you will entirely upset my plans,' said her 
 ladyship reproachfully. 
 
 ' I am very sorry, mamma ; if you had 
 mentioned the subject to me before, I
 
 GOING TO FIGHT THE FRENCH. 107 
 
 might have got through them for you to- 
 day/ 
 
 Here the subject dropped. Lady 
 O'Moore left the dining-room with Kath- 
 leen, and did not prove herself to be too 
 agreeable a companion in the time that 
 elapsed before the gentlemen joined them ; 
 she was ' piqued ' at the recollection of her 
 conversation with Mr. Clavering, and she 
 was anxious about the morrow. Frank 
 Clavering's last day at home might spoil 
 all her little scheme, and Kathleen might 
 return from her ride the plighted wife of 
 one whom her ladyship was anxious to see 
 out of the way. 
 
 In spite of all, however, Frank called for 
 Kathleen on the following morning, and 
 she went for a ride with him without 
 paying the least heed to what her step- 
 mother had to say.
 
 10S THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 They had a spirited gallop across 
 country, and walked their horses leisurely 
 along the road on their homeward 
 way. 
 
 * Kathleen,' said Frank, ' are you going 
 to give me any satisfaction before I leave 
 you ?' 
 
 ' I am not going to say " Yes," Frank ; 
 I must have time to consider !' 
 
 6 And what have you been doing, Kath- 
 leen, but considering ever since you were 
 a little girl of eight years old ?' 
 
 1 I have never considered the subject of 
 marrying you seriously, Frank/ said Kath- 
 leen, smiling. ' We grew up as school- 
 fellows and playmates together, and I like 
 you now very much in the same way that 
 I liked you when I was eight years old. I 
 shall miss you when you go away, but as 
 to promising to marry you, I cannot do
 
 GOING TO FIGHT THE FRENCH. 109 
 
 that, Frank, for I do not know my own 
 mind.' 
 
 ' Let me try to know it for you, Kath- 
 leen/ said Frank, earnestly. ' You are 
 afraid that after you had said " Yes " to 
 me, that you would see some one else 
 whom you infinitely preferred, and that 
 then you would be miserable. Is that 
 it?' 
 
 * No, Frank, not exactly ; when you come 
 back, I shall surely know my own mind. 
 I doubt if you know yours yet. You 
 never met any girl but me to know inti- 
 mately ; there is no saying whom you may 
 meet to drive me from your thoughts ; it 
 must remain as it is, Frank — I cannot say 
 " Yes " yet.' 
 
 * Kathleen, it is easy for you to talk like 
 that ; you do not know your own mind, 
 you say ; you cannot say " No," and yet
 
 no THE OLD LOVE LS THE NEW. 
 
 you will not say " Yes." I should go 
 away far happier if you would consent to 
 become my wife : I should have an object 
 in view, a happiness to which I might look 
 forward. It is very easy indeed for you 
 to treat the matter so lightly. I shall 
 never alter what I have already said ; if it 
 is nothing to you to make me miserable, 
 that is another thing ; but as to my loving 
 any one else as I love you, or dreaming of 
 marrying any one else, it is impossible. I 
 shall say no more : I do not wish to think 
 you heartless, but sometimes I fear that 
 you are so.' 
 
 No more was said upon the subject 
 until the end of the ride, when Frank was 
 bidding her good-bye. 
 
 ' Good-bye, Kathleen,' he said sorrow- 
 fully, ' I may never see you again, who 
 knows ?'
 
 GOING TO FIGHT THE FRENCH. in 
 
 1 I hope there is no chance of that, 
 Frank ; as it is, I shall miss you dread- 
 fully, but you must wait for the little word 
 you want. Good-bye !' 
 
 ' Good-bye, darling Kathleen, God bless 
 you !' he said fervently, as he kissed her ; 
 then he mounted his horse and rode away 
 his eyes blinded with tears. 
 
 There was much gloomy despair in his 
 heart ; he must really go away without 
 what he longed for, without the promise of 
 one day possessing her whom he held 
 dearer than life. The thought was dis- 
 tressing to him. Why was Kathleen so 
 perverse ? Why, if she cared for him, was 
 it that she was so unwilling to do what he 
 begged of her ? His love for her had 
 strengthened with years ; what had been 
 perhaps an almost boyish fancy, had 
 grown into a passion, and he felt that
 
 112 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 without Kathleen life would be deprived 
 of all that could render it worth living for. 
 Yet there was no help for it ; he must wait 
 patiently ; he would fight for his king and 
 his country and would throw his whole 
 being into that ; had he to die, he would 
 die without a murmur in so good a cause, 
 and were he to live, he could only hope 
 that his next meeting with Kathleen might 
 bring about what he so earnestly longed 
 for. 
 
 And how was it with Kathleen ? She 
 could not drive Frank's image from her 
 mind for that night ; she recalled the past, 
 she remembered him as her youthful lover, 
 ever constant, ever determined to make 
 her his own, and now she was putting an 
 end to his hopes with what purpose she 
 could scarcely tell ; yet she could not bring 
 herself to confess that she loved him — she
 
 GOING TO FIGHT THE FRENCH. 113 
 
 could not say it truthfully, she thought ; he 
 must wait, and she would do the same, 
 and then, when he came back, if her heart 
 were really her own, she would give it to 
 him. But she had so much of the woman 
 in her composition that when she went to 
 bed that night she bedewed her pillow with 
 tears and lay awake a long time restless 
 and unhappy. 
 
 When Frank reached home, he told his 
 father of what ill-luck he had a^ain en- 
 countered, for that Kathleen seemed de- 
 termined to say him ' Nay.' 
 
 Mr. Clavering sympathised deeply with 
 his only son, but at the same time pointed 
 out to him how useless it was to fret ; if 
 Kathleen would not take him as her hus- 
 band, no one could make her ; and he 
 recommended his son to try and forget 
 this, his first love, assuring him that he 
 
 vol. 1. 8
 
 H4 THE OLD LOVE LS THE NEW. 
 
 would yet meet some one who would take 
 his fancy more than even Kathleen had 
 done, and who would perhaps after all 
 prove herself a better wife. 
 
 Mr. Clavering had said as much as this 
 before. Frank only shook his head ; he 
 was beyond the power of consolation or 
 suggestion ; and his father, as a final re- 
 source, begged of him to throw off his 
 depression and to try and render his last 
 evening at home as agreeable as he 
 could. 
 
 1 It may be a long time before we meet 
 again, my boy, if ever/ said Mr. Claver- 
 ing ; ' let us try and forget our individual 
 troubles and smoke our last pipe together 
 in cheerfulness as well as in peace.' 
 
 The consequence of this remark was, 
 that a little toddy and one or two pipes of 
 fragrant tobacco turned Frank's thoughts
 
 GOING TO FIGHT THE FRENCH 115 
 
 into another vein, and the last evening 
 together at Clonmore passed all too quickly 
 for father and son. 
 
 It was going on for midnight when a 
 knock was heard at the library-door, and 
 Murphy walked in. 
 
 1 Well, Murphy, what do you want?' 
 asked Mr. Clavering. 
 
 ' Plaise, then, an' beggin' yer 'oner's 
 pardon, I'm thinkin' of makin' a change in 
 my profession,' said Murphy, with a grin. 
 
 'Are you going to leave us, Murphy ?' 
 asked Mr. Clavering, in surprise. 
 
 1 Plaise, then, yer 'oner, it's soldiering I 
 want to go, an' with Misther Frank, too, if 
 he'll take me.' 
 
 1 Do you want to enlist, Murphy ?' asked 
 Frank, smiling. 
 
 ' Yes, Misther Frank, an' in your regiment, 
 if it's possible. Faith, thin, I'd like to be 
 
 S— 2
 
 u6 THE OLD LOVE LS THE NEW. 
 
 your orderly, as I think they call it ; at all 
 events, maybe your 'oner would put me in 
 the way of makin' a soldier o' myself, as 
 I'm moighty tired of bein' a servant, an' 
 would leave all that to Mistress Machree 
 an' such people as those.' 
 
 1 I doubt if you would stand fire,' said Mr. 
 Clavering, looking at Murphy's red head. 
 
 ' Indeed, yer 'oner, an' it's not I as would 
 be runnin' away from a lot o' rascally 
 Frenchmen.' 
 
 Frank looked at his father and smiled, 
 then asked, ' What have you to say, 
 father ?' 
 
 ' Let the man go, by all means, if he 
 likes, my boy ; take him with you if you 
 can !' 
 
 * All right, Murphy, you be ready to 
 start with me to-morrow morning, and I'll 
 make a soldier of you. Good-night !'
 
 GOING TO FIGHT THE FRENCH. 117 
 
 Murphy took his departure, and Mr. 
 Clavering burst into a fit of laughter. 
 However, he went on to say that perhaps 
 the poor fellow would turn out a faithful 
 servant, and might prove himself useful. 
 
 Shortly after this, father and son parted 
 for the night, and Frank made all necessary 
 preparations for an early start on the next 
 morning.
 
 n8 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE UNYANS. 
 1 Call we this plodding fricaseer, a cook ?' 
 
 ' Ay ! Epicurus, too, was sure a cook.' 
 
 Lady O'Moore had a good deal that was 
 epicurean in her blood ; that is to say, her 
 father's blood ran in her veins, purple or 
 otherwise, and that he had been a chef 
 at an hotel in London. Indeed, were we 
 to trace his history still further back, we 
 should find him advancing step by step in 
 kitchen dignity, step by step in kitchen 
 lore, and advancing, sometimes slowly, 
 sometimes rapidly, towards the 'coif of
 
 THE UNYANS. 119 
 
 kitchen supremacy. And as he advanced, 
 so he became more eager, more impatient 
 of the dignity ; and when he attained to 
 it, and the golden dust for which he had 
 slaved, and not in vain, blew thicker and 
 thicker about him, it blinded him, and he 
 neither looked back nor was contented 
 with the present, but longed for the future, 
 when he could doff the ' coif he had barely 
 'donned/ and could leave kitchen ranges 
 and kitchen discipline to his successor — for 
 the second in kitchen authority was only 
 waiting for an opportunity to step into 
 kingly boots. 
 
 And the time for putting off his ' mortal 
 coil' in the shape of white apron, paper 
 cap, and gravy spoon, was not long in 
 coming to Jacob Unyan. Success had 
 almost come to him for the whistline to it : 
 of course he was shrewd, of course he had
 
 120 THE OLD LOVE LS THE NEW. 
 
 tact, but yet he knew, and others knew, 
 men of greater shrewdness and greater 
 tact, whose luck never ran for the time so 
 smoothly and so continually in the right 
 direction as did his. He had rather a 
 special knack of crowding opportunities 
 and channels of making money into his 
 profession. His salary as 'chef was not 
 very big, and an entire conformity to his 
 capacity as such would have brought him 
 in comparatively little. 
 
 But Jacob Unyan made use of side 
 channels. He sent out neat little dinners, 
 1 harmonious ranged and consonantly just/ 
 to the houses round. The rough materials 
 for these cost him nothing ; their original 
 destination, in their completeness, was the 
 hotel lunch-table or the table- d 7wte. He 
 had a great talent for making a little go a 
 long way, and so, with a little filching and
 
 THE UNYANS. 121 
 
 paring and scraping, he was enabled to 
 retire in middle life, and to give his 
 children a decent education. 
 
 Yet, alas ! the tact, economy, and thrift 
 of years were puffed away with one breath 
 of an ill-wind, and this ill-wind — specula- 
 tion. He was persuaded that it would 
 blow favourably, whereas it veered round 
 and blew a perfect hurricane right in his 
 teeth, sent him upon his very beam ends, 
 and took his masts away by the board. 
 So complete was the surprise, that he 
 never righted himself, but gradually 
 settled down and sank in a sea of dis- 
 appointment and thwarted hopes. The 
 kitchen had been an atmosphere in which 
 his genius had thrived, the Stock Exchange 
 was beyond his mental constitution. 
 
 When he died, he left his four children 
 almost destitute, and so it fell to their lot
 
 122 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 to make the most of their abilities, backed 
 up by the advantage of a good education. 
 
 Mrs. Unyan departed this life before her 
 husband ; the blast of triumph had sounded 
 in her ears, but the hurricane of failure 
 came after she had gone. 
 
 Two of the children went to America, 
 while Lucy and Hugh settled down to- 
 gether. The former, now Lady O'Moore, 
 launched out as a governess, while the latter 
 was in due time called to the bar in Dublin. 
 Lucy Unyan had taught in two or three 
 families before she went as governess to 
 Kathleen O' Moore ; she had a fair smat- 
 tering of French, German, music, and 
 other accomplishments, dressed with 
 tolerable taste, and was decidedly good- 
 looking. She passed as an orphan, as the 
 daughter of a gentleman who had been 
 unfortunate in business, and that was all
 
 THE UNYANS. 123 
 
 any one knew about her. No one took 
 the trouble to find out what the parent 
 Unyan had been. It would have been a 
 difficult task to do so ; his name was not 
 in the Blue Book, and what was an Unyan 
 in the great metropolis ? Were there not 
 plenty of them in every profession, from 
 picture frame-makers up to Royal Acade- 
 micians, and from bailiffs' officers up to 
 Queen's Counsel ? 
 
 Miss Lucy Unyan was 'genteelly con- 
 nected,' was naturally reticent about her 
 ancestry, which had suffered the reverses 
 of fortune, and was therefore admitted as 
 'a lady in reduced circumstances' to train 
 up the children of several well-to-do people. 
 She had given up this position of ' daily 
 governess ' to fill the post of f resident 
 governess ' to Kathleen, and to teach her 
 to become a lady ; that is to say to file off
 
 124 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 the rough edges, to check the overflow of 
 spirits, to soften the merry laugh, and to 
 slacken the romping step ; to restrain the 
 natural expression of feeling and idea, and 
 to tinge with some of her own unreality 
 the hitherto unchecked wild-flower life of 
 the baronet's daughter. And so well did 
 she play her hand, so innocently did she 
 use little winning ways, and such pretty 
 attentions did she show to Sir Patrick, 
 making herself at the same time so essen- 
 tial to household order and government, 
 that he asked her to marry him. He re- 
 flected upon how soon Kathleen might get 
 married, and upon his consequent loneli- 
 ness, and this reflection led him to the 
 step which made Lucy Unyan Lucy 
 O'Moore, in his eyes, but in her satisfied 
 ambition, Lady O'Moore. 
 
 With what pride she wrote to tell her
 
 THE UNYANS. 125 
 
 brother Hugh of the conquest she had 
 made! How she dilated upon the fact of 
 her possessing a title, upon Kathleen's 
 beauty, and his chance of marrying the 
 baronefs daughter ! And when the wed- 
 ding-day was at hand, and Sir Patrick 
 asked his bride-elect if she had no rela- 
 tions whom she wished to invite to the 
 wedding, she replied, with touching simpli- 
 city, and absence of any traces of a blush, 
 that she was an orphan, had but one 
 brother, who was a barrister, and that he 
 was too hard pressed with business to leave 
 Dublin. Sir Patrick married Lucy Unyan 
 for love. He admired her, believed she 
 would make his home comfortable and 
 would be a careful housewife. But mar- 
 riage wrought wonders, or rather woes, in 
 the wife, and promoted regrets in the 
 bosom of the husband.
 
 126 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 Lucy Unyan had been thrifty and 
 penny-wise, Lady O'Moore was extrava- 
 gant and pound-foolish ; Lucy Unyan had 
 been pliant and gentle, Lady O'Moore was 
 obstinate and harsh ; the governess had 
 been unselfish, the wife was grasping and 
 unthinking of others ; the governess had 
 shown a simple dependent spirit, the wife 
 showed the marked contrast of imperious - 
 ness. The sweet little subdued ways 
 vanished, the little attentions ceased, 
 everything had to bow its neck to her 
 wish and command, for was she not now 
 a baronet's lady, though the daughter of a 
 chef? 
 
 The new rdgime made but little differ- 
 ence to Kathleen ; she went her own ways 
 pretty well. She could not fail to see a 
 change in her father ; he had lost much of 
 his heartiness, much of his kind bluff
 
 THE UNYANS. 127 
 
 manner, and there was an air of restraint 
 about him which was as evident to Mr. 
 Clavering as to Kathleen herself. Then 
 came the event of a son born to Sir 
 Patrick ; this was indeed a balm and a 
 compensation for bad temper, self-will, and 
 extravagance. His fondest desire was to 
 have a son and heir, and when he was 
 born, the kindhearted baronet could in no 
 way restrain his delight. He behaved 
 like a happy school-boy, was full of chaff 
 and goodhumour, his old self seemed to 
 return to him for the time, and he lavished 
 ' douceurs ' with a prodigality which he 
 would have upbraided in any one else at 
 another time, and of which he would have 
 been incapable himself. The servants were 
 feasted, the tenantry regaled, and it would 
 be impossible to say how much whisky and 
 water, or perhaps whisky alone, was drunk.
 
 128 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 The merry-making continued for some 
 days, and then came the christening of the 
 child. The name chosen for him was 
 ' Hugh ' — it was her ladyship's desire. 
 The name had family associations for 
 her, she said ; her grandfather had been 
 called Hugh. It would, perhaps, be too 
 much to say that this was false, but it was 
 decidedly doubtful. 
 
 The late Mr. Unyan, after he had blos- 
 somed from the savoury chrysalis into the 
 retired butterfly with a heavy watch chain, 
 had cast a graceful shadow — not his own — 
 over his ancestry and over the means of 
 his rise in life, He had had a select little 
 circle of tea-drinking acquaintances, and to 
 them he always spoke of his ' profession,' 
 and, when closely pressed as to what that 
 had been, he stated that he was once ' at 
 the head of a department in a large house,
 
 THE UN VANS. 129 
 
 and this was a perfectly truthful aspect of 
 affairs, only prettily stated. Oh, Unyan ! 
 who in the flesh didst strut about in 
 domestic white, but afterwards in sleek 
 broadcloth, whose family held their heads 
 as high as their neighbours, whose little 
 suburban villa was ' spick and span,' 
 wherein, on certain occasions, little revel- 
 lings were held, when thou didst deign to 
 direct the culinary efforts of a weak plain 
 cook ! — what, then, was the pinnacle of 
 thy pride ? to what, then, did thy fancy 
 soar ? Sometimes, perhaps, thou didst 
 dream of ' donning ' some day the red 
 cloak of an alderman, while the official 
 chain sparkled like some all-alluring will- 
 o'-the-wisp, or of even living to become 
 the chief magistrate of the great metro- 
 polis, and of receiving the touch which 
 dubbed thee knight of some great ban- 
 vol. 1. 9
 
 130 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 quet given to foreign prince or heathen 
 potentate ! 
 
 But then there came 4 a killing frost/ the 
 investments failed, and thou didst escape 
 an almost penury by death. Well, sooner 
 or later, that comes to all. But if thy shade 
 can behold, how are thy culinary efforts 
 now crowned with success ! Erst little 
 Lucy is a lady of rank, mother to a future 
 baronet, and is doing her best to marry 
 thy son to a wealthy wife. Dry thine eyes, 
 departed Unyan, and rejoice that thou, a 
 follower of Epicurus, hast recuperated a 
 line of baronets whose ancient title would 
 otherwise have disappeared from off the 
 face of the earth ! 
 
 Yes, Lady O'Moore has a right by 
 birth, has she not, to condemn the blind 
 boy's musical skill and to speak with dis- 
 dain of the lower classes ? The proud
 
 THE UNYANS. 131 
 
 purple blood that chases through her veins 
 rebels rightly at gifts God-given to one her 
 inferior by birth and in station. She is 
 one of those unreal people who find their 
 way into society, one of those who try to 
 lord it over others, who, though of gentler 
 blood and of far greater refinement, are re- 
 tiring, unobtrusive, and easily suppressed. 
 My lady this or that, or even plain mistress 
 so-and-so, who has raised herself by mar- 
 riage, holds her ' receptions ' and her 
 1 kettle-drums.' She knows ' good people, 
 and by an amount of ' hauteur ' and ' airs ' 
 forms a circle for herself. Within this, 
 those of her own rank, less lucky than she 
 has been, look up to her as to a queen, 
 flatter and fawn upon her, and obey her 
 1 beck and nod,' while others of far better 
 blood, but of timid dispositions, accept her 
 invitations as commands, are invited be- 
 
 9—2
 
 132 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 cause they give her parties a little hant 
 ton, and even if she drop her /is, and of 
 course no baronet's lady would do that, 
 there are people only too willing to excuse 
 her, and to propound the theory that such 
 a delinquency is quite pardonable, because 
 ' she is, you see, of foreign extraction.' 
 
 Lady O' Moore intended to pass a very 
 gay winter in Dublin ; she had already 
 framed plans for enjoyment. She had 
 induced Sir Patrick to take a handsome 
 town-house, and had made up her mind to 
 entertain largely. Her pet scheme was 
 the introduction of Hugh into her hus- 
 band's house as a suitable match for 
 Kathleen ; that was her piece de resist- 
 ance, and she thought of it with as much 
 anticipation as did her father, when, in 
 days long gone by, he prepared some 
 savoury dish of curious conceit either to
 
 THE UNYANS. 133 
 
 please his own palate or the taste of others, 
 and thus to put money into his pockets. 
 
 Fortunately for Hugh, he had inherited 
 none of his father's mental defects or 
 external qualities. He really was a very- 
 handsome young fellow ; he was gentle- 
 manly and easy in manner, and had none 
 of the pretensions which must have de- 
 fined, or nearly so, the circle of society 
 from which Lady O'Moore had sprung. 
 It was fortunate, too, for both of them, that 
 the other brother and sister were far away. 
 Sir Patrick had heard that his lady had 
 connections abroad, but he did not know 
 how near or distant by blood or water, nor 
 had he the faintest conception of their 
 genealogy, their manners, habits, or social 
 status. And just at present, too, his 
 thoughts were not even so often with his 
 wife as they had been, for his whole admi-
 
 134 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 ration was given up to the son and heir. 
 Lady O'Moore did not mind this ; she was 
 constantly, almost always, thinking of the 
 gay winter she was going to pass in 
 Dublin, and her thoughts in connection 
 with this ran rather on silks and satins 
 and dinners and balls than on Sir Patrick's 
 diminished attentions.
 
 TWO KINDS OF REVENGE. 135 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TWO KINDS OF REVENGE. 
 'Revenge is sweet.' 
 Mike O'Leary was tried at the assizes 
 and received a sentence which was far too 
 lenient for his crime ; however, the learned 
 judge, considering that there were extenu- 
 ating circumstances which led the man to 
 attempt Mr. Clavering's life, and having 
 also received a letter from Mr. Clavering 
 on the subject, only sentenced Mike to 
 three years' imprisonment with hard labour, 
 to be followed by another three years' police 
 supervision. 
 
 As soon as Mr. Clavering heard of the
 
 THE OLD LOVE IS THE XEW. 
 
 sentence, he went and called upon Mrs. 
 O'Leary and promised to provide her with 
 the means lor going to see her husband in 
 gaol, for staying a night in the county town 
 if necessary, and for returning to Inchi^eela. 
 The poor woman gladly accepted the offer, 
 and a day or two afterwards set off for 
 Cork, accompanied by her blind boy and 
 her youngest child. 
 
 When Mrs. O'Leary and her two children 
 had left Inchigeela, Mr. Clavering sent a 
 workman down to repair her cabin, and to 
 make it, at any rate, water-tight He felt 
 no grudge towards Mike O'Leary for the 
 crime he had attempted to commit ; he 
 : t garded it in the light of a mistaken idea, 
 an act on behalf of his starving children 
 as an attempted though useless remedy for 
 some real or fancied injustice committed 
 in former days.
 
 TWO KINDS OF REVENGE. 137 
 
 Moreover, Mr. Clavering considered the 
 blind boy, who had made such an impres- 
 sion upon him ; he did not exactly see how 
 he could be of service to the lad, and yet 
 all the kindness and consideration he had 
 already shown, and yet intended to show, 
 to the O'Learys found its real spring in 
 the affection, for it was nothing short of 
 that, which he felt for that little sensitive 
 and delicate frame, and for that mind which 
 thought in music and seemed so much 
 above its surroundings. 
 
 Pat O'Leary had been a constant visitor 
 at Clonmore since Frank's departure to 
 join his regiment. Mr. Clavering felt 
 lonely without his son, and his loneliness 
 was further increased by the departure of 
 the O'Moores for Dublin. 
 
 In the frequent visits of the blind boy 
 Mr. Clavering had taken an insight into
 
 138 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 the child's character. He was a man who 
 sought for beauties in nature, a man who 
 hated sham, and who saw at once beneath 
 the mask which any one might attempt to 
 wear in his presence. He admired the 
 candid honour in his son's character, the 
 honest bluff friendship and heart of Sir 
 Patrick O'Moore, the child-like simplicity 
 and faith, the pure appreciation of God, in 
 little Pat O'Leary, while he disliked in- 
 tensely the unreal type of mind and the 
 shallow affectation of Lady O'Moore. 
 
 He had been a great thinker and a 
 great reader, for he had been much alone. 
 From the time that he had sold out of the 
 army, when he married, and his married 
 life had been speedily cut short by the 
 death of his wife, he had preferred quiet 
 study to anything else ; while his neighbour 
 farmed or hunted, went here and there and
 
 TWO KINDS OF REVENGE. 139 
 
 led a life of activity, Mr. Clavering enjoyed 
 the solace of his library, wrote essays for 
 his amusement, which he never published, 
 and made studies of character from those 
 who surrounded him. 
 
 One of his conversations with Pat 
 O'Leary had been as follows : the little 
 fellow had been playing a melancholy air 
 upon his fiddle, and had ended his per- 
 formance with a bright sparkling melody. 
 
 4 How do you like the new strings, Pat ?' 
 asked Mr. Clavering. 
 
 ' Very much, yer 'oner ; shure, there's 
 more sowl in my old fiddle than I ever 
 thought was there.' 
 
 ' Why are you so fond of music, Pat ?' 
 
 4 Shure, sur, I hardly know how to 
 answer you ; it's a hard thing to put in 
 words, but it's jist to me I fancy what sun 
 and flowers and green fields are to ye. I
 
 Ho THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 say to me little sister at times, " Biddy, tell 
 me what a flower is like," an' she tells me, 
 as well as she can, the colour and the 
 shape, and of course I can smell it for 
 myself, an' I hear the runnin' o' water, an' 
 the blowin' o' wind, an the patter o' rain, 
 an' I says to myself, " That's God"; an' I can 
 see none of Him ; an' yet I can feel Him, 
 for He's all there,' said the boy, putting 
 his hand upon his heart; 'an' thin I jist 
 begin to play, an' I seem to know it all.' 
 
 4 You always play so sadly to begin with, 
 Pat, and then you end up with a lively 
 tune. How is it ?' 
 
 1 Indeed, thin, an' I can hardly explain 
 that, yer 'oner ; the first part is, so to say, 
 that I can do no better, an' the second part 
 is to make up for it.' 
 
 1 You don't think you could do without 
 your fiddle, Pat, do you ?'
 
 TWO KINDS OF REVENGE. 141 
 
 ' Indeed no, sur, it would be like killin' 
 me. There's Biddy an' the whole lot of 
 them seem to be perfectly happy wi' their 
 potatoes, an' nigh go wild when there's a 
 bit o' bacon thrown in ; for me it's the 
 same what I eat, but it's not the same what 
 I play — sometimes I play sad when I feel 
 sad, an' happy when I feel happy, an' what 
 I could play to-day I shouldn't play to- 
 morrow, nor play to-morrow like the day 
 aftur.' 
 
 The boy really found it difficult to say 
 what he meant ; language quite failed him. 
 His music was his spiritual existence, and 
 had you taken it away from him, his life 
 could not have continued ; you would have 
 rooted out his raison d'etre ; it would have 
 been like putting seed into the ground and 
 then taking it away to await, though all in 
 vain, the issue of a flower or any sign of
 
 142 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 growth ; it would have been like depriving 
 a plant of light, which, without the fostering 
 sunshine, would droop and grow brown 
 and hang its head ; its beauty would fade, 
 its freshness and vigour would disappear, 
 it would be the bare semblance of a plant, 
 but no more. You cannot dry up the 
 source of a stream and then expect to see 
 it rippling over its course, as it used to do ; 
 you cannot put an opaque roof over your 
 head and see the stars through it; you 
 cannot let wine become vinegar and drink 
 it as nectar ; you cannot blacken snow with 
 ink and then admire its purity ; you cannot 
 crush or quell or eradicate by force an 
 innate virtue or a genius which God has 
 given, without leaving a miserable wreck, 
 and an echo which contain no sweetness 
 of the past reality ; and had the old fiddle 
 been taken away from the blind boy, it
 
 TWO KINDS OF REVENGE. 143 
 
 would have been like taking the colour 
 from rose-leaves and the perfume from 
 violets, like changing a sweet instrument 
 of harmony into a jangling discord, and 
 then saying, ' See what a change I have 
 wrought ; this is a rose, that a violet, this a 
 harp, they are unchanged in appearance !' 
 1 Yes,' they would ask, ' but where are the 
 colour and the perfume and the harmony ?' 
 They are gone ; that is the change. 
 
 When Mrs. O'Leary and her children 
 visited Mike in prison, they found him 
 gloomy and depressed. His wife cried, 
 and the blind boy crept up to his father 
 and passed his delicate hands through the 
 man's hair. 
 
 ' Are you unhappy, father ?' asked 
 Pat. 
 
 ' Yes, my boy, an' three long years of it 
 to come,' growled Mike.
 
 144 THE OLD LOVE LS THE NEW. 
 
 1 It's your own fault, father ; I begged 
 of you not to go on with that shoot- 
 ing.' 
 
 ■ Me own fault, did ye say? Out on ye ! 
 it's the fault of them bla'guard landlords. 
 D'ye s'pose Mr. Claverin will gain anythin' 
 by puttin' me in here ; d'ye s'pose he can 
 kill what I main to do ? I defy him, an' 
 if I were kept in prison for twenty years, 
 I'd take his life when I came out !' 
 
 ' Oh, Mike !' sobbed his poor broken- 
 hearted wife, ' don't talk like that. Is it 
 not enough to know that your wife and 
 childers must suffer all the time ye're in 
 here, an' if you get tryin' on such a thing 
 agin, they'll imprison ye for life, or maybe 
 hang ye. Plaise God, ye'll forget it all 
 afore ye come out, for my sake as well as 
 yer own !' 
 
 ' Divil a bit,' said Mike. ' That fellow
 
 TWO KINDS OF REVENGE. 145 
 
 shall repent it ; if I don't kill him, some one 
 else shall.' 
 
 * But, father, isn't it Mr. Claverin' as is 
 feedin' us now ?' put in the blind boy ; ' isn't 
 it he as has sent us here to-day ? an' what 
 should we do without him ?' 
 
 1 An' what for d'ye s'pose he's doin' all 
 that — for charity's sake ? Faith, thin, that's 
 bin dead long enough ago, and he's still 
 wearin' mourning for it. It's not that, but 
 he hopes to hide the sins of his father in 
 that way ; he hopes to turn aside the sword 
 that is hanging over him, but I swear he 
 never shall. No, no ; the first week as I'm 
 out let him take care of himself, for its 
 little mercy he'll have from me.' 
 
 1 I shall tell him all this,' said the blind 
 boy, resolutely. ' I shall tell him to take 
 care. Isn't it he that has fed us an' taken 
 care of us since you went away ? And 
 
 vol. 1. 10
 
 146 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 why ? Ye it was who tried to kill him ; 
 an' if he'd been like you, he'd have left us 
 to die.' 
 
 * Is it ye, Pat, as would turn agin your 
 own father for the like of him ? Is it ye 
 as could ever forgive an injury done to yer 
 family, blind as ye are ; because shure an' 
 if it's so, ye're no son of mine, an' could ye 
 see, I'd turn ye out into the world.' 
 
 ' I cannot, father, bear to hear ye talk 
 agin Mr. Claverin' ; it's he as makes me 
 happy. He doesn't say that I'm soft, he 
 doesn't say that I should stop me fiddle 
 playin' ; he it is that understands me, an' 
 I'll stan' to him, whatever you or any one 
 else may say.' 
 
 * An' is it you,' he asked fiercely of his 
 wife, ' that have put these ideas into the 
 child's head with yer soft ways, an' turn'd 
 him agin me ?'
 
 TWO KINDS OF REVENGE. 147 
 
 ' Shure, Mike, I've niver spoke to the 
 child about it ; the A'mighty only knows 
 where he got such talk in from. He's up 
 wi' Mr. Claverin' every day, an' maybe he 
 gets it there.' 
 
 ' Well, now look here/ he said to his 
 wife, ' it's my strict orders that ye take no 
 charity from that man ; it's no longer that 
 I'll have that boy goin' up to Clonmore. 
 Am I to have me own family put agin me 
 by him, an' for them to be thinkin' that 
 he's right an' I'm wrong ? All that ye or 
 any one else may say or do won't alter 
 me ; an' if ye go an 7 tell people what I've 
 been sayin', ye'll jist add another three 
 years an' maybe more before I'll be out. 
 Don't come an see me agin, I don't want 
 it ; but in three years' time ye'll see me out, 
 an' thin God help him that tries to keep 
 
 10 — 2
 
 148 THE OLD LOVE LS THE NEW, 
 
 me from Mr. Claverin', or, if he's dead, his 
 son/ 
 
 He had raised his voice high during 
 this last tirade, and, as he finished, the 
 turnkey appeared at the door of the cell 
 and told the visitors that their time was 
 up. 
 
 When Mrs. O'Leary and her children 
 returned to Inchigeela they found their 
 cabin in a better state of repair than it had 
 ever been in since they inhabited it. 
 There was no hole in the roof, the 
 windows had been mended, and there 
 were one or two unbroken stools added 
 to the room, which served for living, 
 sleeping room, and pig-sty. The children 
 who had been left at home were full of 
 accounts as to the doings of the carpenter, 
 and had been amply supplied with pro- 
 visions from Clonmore. How was Mrs.
 
 TWO KINDS OF REVENGE. 149 
 
 O'Leary to carry out her husband's injunc- 
 tions ? Was she to refuse all the kindness 
 that was offered to her because of his 
 spirit of spite and revenge ? 
 
 She weighed the subject for a few 
 seconds. Obedience to a bad husband, 
 whom she yet loved — duty to her children, 
 whom she cherished and thought of more 
 than herself; and then the mother's gentle 
 solicitude overcame the wife's fears, and 
 she felt that she must accept Mr. Cover- 
 ing's bounty, for how else were the little 
 hungry ones to be filled or to be kept alive 
 in the cold winter months which had 
 already commenced with unusual se- 
 verity ? 
 
 Does a woman love her husband more 
 than her children or vice versa ? The 
 question has been asked often enough, but 
 seldom answered in a manner that would
 
 150 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 convince one way or the other. It is 
 certain that a wife loves her husband, and 
 a husband his wife, far better than she or 
 he ever loved their parents. But when 
 the little ones come, then arises the ques- 
 tion whether the two staples of the chain 
 are in themselves as sympathetic as ever, 
 or whether it is not rather that their love 
 runs through the links which bind them 
 together in the persons of their little ones ? 
 Is it a needful question to ask ? Scarcely ; 
 the great question should be, Am I doing 
 my duty to both ? Am I fulfilling my 
 duty of comfort and love to the one ? am I 
 cherishing and setting a bright example to 
 the others ? If so, then there is a sym- 
 pathy which runs through the whole chain. 
 I love the one, I love the others. Spare me 
 the one, O Heaven ! spare me the others. 
 Teach me to live so that without idle ques-
 
 TWO KINDS OF REVENGE. 151 
 
 tionings or surmisings I may engender 
 happiness, so that my love may exist with- 
 out useless doubts and may be continually 
 satisfied with itself. 
 
 Almost immediately after his return to 
 Inchigeela, Pat O'Leary went up to Clon- 
 more to see Mr. Clavering ; he did not tell 
 his mother that he was going there, for 
 fear she should object, though at the same 
 time he would have taken no heed of her 
 objection. 
 
 He resolved to tell his friend all that 
 O'Leary had said in prison concerning 
 him ; the blind boy felt great anxiety on 
 Mr. Clavering's account, and his little 
 heart was full of dismay at the thought of 
 death coming to the only one who had 
 really seemed to understand him and to 
 take interest in the subject that engrossed 
 himself — his music. It is true that Pat
 
 752 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 loved his own people, but even his affection 
 for them had never approached that which 
 he felt for his fiddle; but now he had found 
 some one worthy of sharing his heart, one 
 who seemed more to breathe the air that 
 he breathed and to enjoy and realise the 
 things that he enjoyed and realised, and 
 the thought of harm to be done to Mr. 
 Clavering distressed him in the same way 
 that he would have grieved had any one 
 said to him, f Pat, when I get the chance 
 I will break your fiddle into pieces ;' he 
 would have tried to save that, and he 
 wanted now to try and save his friend. 
 
 Pat found his way to the study-door at 
 Clonmore, and tapped with his fiddle-bow. 
 * Come in !' responded Mr. Clavering to 
 the sound, and the boy entered the 
 room. 
 
 'Why, Pat, back at Inchigeela already!
 
 TWO KINDS OF REVENGE, 153 
 
 Well, did your mother find any improve- 
 ments in the old cabin ?' 
 
 1 Indeed, shure, sur, an' I didn't wait to 
 hear nothin'. Oh ! Mr. Claverin', git out 
 of Inchigeela as soon as you can, before 
 me father comes out o' prison, or he'll kill 
 you !' and the blind boy burst into tears. 
 
 ' Nonsense, my poor boy ! he'll forget all 
 about it by that time. He is taking his 
 revenge on me now by thinking as he 
 thinks now, and I am taking mine too, in 
 trying to make you all more comfort- 
 able/ 
 
 ' Shure, an' it's not he as will iver forget 
 yer 'oner ; he'll try to murther ye when he 
 comes out o' prison, an' no one will be 
 able to prevint him,' said Pat, shaking his 
 head. 
 
 'Don't you be afraid, Pat,' said Mr. 
 Clavering, laughing to allay th boy's
 
 154 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 fears ; ' when your father comes home I'll 
 look after myself and him too ; he shall 
 have work, and you will see that we shall 
 be good friends.' 
 
 ' Shure, an' it's not I as thinks so !' said 
 the boy, dubiously. * He was well-nigh 
 daft to-day wi' rage when mother an' me 
 spoke of all ye have done for us, an' said 
 as how mother must take nothin' more 
 from ye, and that it's you are tryin' to turn 
 us agin our own father.' 
 
 * Tut, tut, my boy ! your father's angry 
 now because he's got himself into prison ; 
 he'll forget it, and I shall not have to leave 
 Clonmore. Come, my boy, have some- 
 thing to eat, and then you may play me a 
 little soft music on your fiddle, while I'm 
 writing.' 
 
 ' Indeed, yer 'oner, an' I'll neither eat 
 nor play until ye promise to take a bit o'
 
 TWO KINDS OF REVENGE. 155 
 
 care o' yourself. Mr. Claverin' F said the 
 boy, going up close to his friend and listen- 
 ing cautiously round for fear of any one 
 hearing him ; ' me father will murder ye if 
 he can. He's a terrible man, an there's 
 110 one knows it as well as I do, not even 
 mother : take a bit o' care o' yourself, sur, 
 plaise do, for I'll tell you one bit o' news,' 
 continued the child, dropping his voice, and 
 saying with emotion, 'a thing I've niver 
 yet said to a sowl, nor could say to any 
 one but you ; I'd as soon have me fiddle 
 broke as you, I would indeed, sur — I would 
 indeed !' 
 
 The poor child sobbed as tnough his 
 heart would break. Mr. Clavering tried 
 to comfort him, assured him that he would 
 take care of himself, and would come to no 
 harm at Mike O'Leary's hands, until at 
 length the child grew quieter. And when
 
 156 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 the December day was dying out, and the 
 fire burnt brightly in the grate, and out 
 through the window could be seen the cold 
 grey sky with its streak of wintry sunset 
 far beyond the leafless trees, then Mr, 
 Clavering laid aside his pen and went and 
 sat by the fire. He listened to the sad 
 strains of the blind boy's music, he looked 
 at the child's pale fair face as the firelight 
 flashed upon it, and gave himself up to a 
 reverie which the music conjured up for 
 him ; now it carried him back to the past 
 or led his thoughts into a tangle which 
 became less capable of being unravelled as 
 his eyes sought the fire and he studied the 
 curious forms within it. 
 
 Twilight is a time of dreams ; too early 
 for lights, too dark to write or read, we 
 fold our hands and, talking but little, lose 
 ourselves in a maze of thought.
 
 TWO KINDS OF REVENGE. 157 
 
 ' Are you happier now, Pat ?' asked Mr. 
 Clavering, softly. 
 
 ' Shure, sur, I've played away my 
 sorrow/
 
 158 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ONLY THE DEATH OF A BABY. 
 
 1 By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of 
 this great world.' 
 
 Lady O'Moore, as soon as she was settled 
 in Dublin for the winter, began entertaining 
 largely, and was entertained in turn. Sir 
 Patrick had taken a spacious house in 
 Gardiner's Row, fronting north Great 
 George's Street ; it was close to the house 
 occupied by the Earl of Belvedere, and 
 was then one of the finest private resi- 
 dences in the city. 
 
 Sir Patrick had a liberal heart and a
 
 ONLY THE DEATH OF A BABY, 159 
 
 well-filled pocket, but never before had so 
 many appeals been made to either of them 
 as during this visit to the capital. There 
 was a constant demand for money, and 
 many were the cheques he wrote for and 
 the cash he handed over to his extravagant 
 wife. She must have a new morning-dress, 
 or walking costume, or toilette for a ball ; 
 So-and-so's must be asked to lunch or to 
 dinner ; every one has such-and-such a 
 shaped carriage, she must have one too ; 
 she must give a ball or a reception. And 
 for the first few weeks there had been 
 constant demands for funds wherewith to 
 dress Kathleen. However, these last had 
 come so often and so monstrously,, and at 
 the same time there was so little result in 
 the person of Kathleen herself, that Sir 
 Patrick, who could not but fancy that the 
 money was really obtained for other
 
 160 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 purposes, decided upon giving his daughter 
 an allowance, and thereby enabling her to 
 dress at a far cheaper rate with a far hand- 
 somer result. 
 
 Lady O'Moore did not approve of this 
 arrangement ; she assured Sir Patrick that 
 Kathleen had no taste, no ideas as to how 
 money should be spent on dress ; but in 
 spite of such a declaration he still kept to 
 the alteration he had made, and mildly 
 hinted that his daughter had never looked 
 so well under her step-mother's expenditure 
 as she did under her own. This was galling 
 to her ladyship, and she asked, with a guilty 
 conscience, but with the appearance of con- 
 summate injured innocence, if her husband 
 deemed, for one moment, that she could 
 be guilty of misappropriation of funds ; 
 because if so, the sooner he could rid 
 himself of so base an idea, the better. Sir
 
 ONLY THE DEATH OF A BABY* 161 
 
 Patrick assured his wife that it was nothing 
 of the kind, only that he thought it much 
 better for Kathleen to learn the use of 
 money, and that she was quite old enough 
 to beofin to do so. Then be^an one of 
 those little scenes, so often attempted, and 
 as often successfully carried out by those 
 femmes qui pleurent. Lady 0' Moore 
 insisted that this was not the real reason 
 why he had seen fit to withdraw funds for 
 Kathleen's wardrobe from her hands, that 
 he was guilty of doubting his wife's honour 
 and integrity ; that he had never been cruel 
 to her before, and why should he begin 
 now ? 
 
 Then came a flood of tears to those 
 bright eyes, the little heart was too full to 
 say any more, and Sir Patrick was dis- 
 tracted to know what he oucrht to do. He 
 was unaccustomed to such scenes, and he 
 
 VOL. i. i r
 
 i62 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 left the room and sent her ladyship's maid 
 to do her best to restore weeping innocence. 
 Then the poor man went to his study, and 
 walked up and down recalling his first 
 married life ; he took the old velvet frame 
 from his pocket and kissed reverently the 
 picture of his first wife. She had never 
 indulged in such extravagances, had never 
 reproached him with hard-heartedness, had 
 never entered upon such an hysterical 
 scene as was now being transacted upstairs. 
 It had always been of him and of her child 
 she had thought, and had only remembered 
 herself last, and sometimes had had to be 
 reminded of self-neglect. Yes, he had 
 done wrong to marry again ; he had been 
 deceived by appearances and outward 
 form, and he began to perceive that the 
 governess had married him for selfish ends 
 and not for love.
 
 ONLY THE DEATH OF A BABY. 163 
 
 Then he thought of his boy ; yes, that 
 was a blessing which had come with the 
 second marriage. But the child was 
 delicate ; it lacked a mother's love, a 
 mother's constant unselfish attention ; it 
 was left too much to the hands of hirelings, 
 and instead of growing up, as it should 
 have done, a strong boy with its father's 
 tough constitution, it was merely a delicate 
 puny baby, too weak, the doctor said, to 
 live long. Her ladyship thought more cf 
 a new bracelet than of her child, more of 
 putting on a dress than of taking him in 
 her arms ; true, she remembered that she 
 was the mother of a future baronet, but 
 alas ! that thought was not enough to give 
 strength to her boy. 
 
 Up in a nursery at the top of a house 
 little Hugh O'Moore lived with his nurse ; 
 thither did his father repair many times a 
 
 11 — 2
 
 1 64 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 day, and the little one used to smile and 
 crow when the baronet appeared. But her 
 ladyship had no time to visit that lofty 
 region ; never did her august shadow 
 darken the nursery-door; when she con- 
 descended to be worried with her child, 
 ' it,' as she called him, was brought down 
 to her bedroom, or boudoir, or drawing- 
 room, and received a cold embrace and a 
 matter-of-form kiss from his mother. Sir 
 Patrick on such occasions would wish to 
 detain his little heir, but her ladyship, with 
 a wearied expression, would assure her 
 husband that the child was much better 
 with his nurse, and back ' it ' went to the 
 top of the house. 
 
 Poor little innocent ! God cannot mis- 
 place His gifts, and yet it seemed a 
 mistake to make Lady O'Moore a mother ; 
 she did not take care of the talent en-
 
 ONLY THE DEATH OF A BABY. 165 
 
 trusted to her, and she would suffer for 
 apathy and heartlessness in the discharge of 
 her duty. God gives, but He can also take 
 away ; and those who prate against Chris- 
 tianity cannot but acknowledge, however 
 it may come about, ' as for the way of the 
 ungodly, He turneth it upside down.' 
 
 It is not only the aged that are cut down 
 and removed from the garden f God's 
 earth, not only the weeds that are uprooted 
 and burnt, but the bright little flowers only 
 just blossoming into life are taken away ; 
 those that are carefully tended, and seem 
 too beautiful for earth, are transplanted to 
 heaven, and those which seem to grow in 
 a corner of the garden out of the sunlight 
 and the refreshing rain of love, their little 
 heads drooping from neglect, are revived 
 by the angels' kiss, and borne upward to a 
 land whose climate dispels ell weariness
 
 1 66 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 and sadness of heart — the unknown land 
 above the stars. 
 
 After Sir Patrick had been alone in his 
 study for about a quarter of an hour, Lady 
 O'Moore's maid entered, and informed him 
 that her lady was very ill indeed in a fit of 
 hysterics, and wished to see her husband. 
 He told the servant that he would come in 
 a few minutes, and forthwith went over to 
 his secretaire and wrote a cheque for 
 fifty pounds, and prepared with this remedy 
 — not contained in clinical medicine, as a 
 cure for hysteria — he sought his lady's 
 room. She was sobbing violently, and he 
 tried in vain to calm her. 
 
 1 What is the matter, Lucy ?' he asked. 
 
 1 You — a — know — a — well enough,' re- 
 plied the lady. 
 
 ■ Is there anything I can do for you, my 
 love ?' asked the baronet, who had formed
 
 ONLY THE DEATH OF A BABY. 167 
 
 his own ideas as to the success of the cure 
 he was about to try. 
 
 1 Nothing,' sobbed Lady O'Moore. ' You 
 are cruel and heartless to bring me to such 
 a state.' 
 
 ' My love, I am sorry ; but come, dry 
 your eyes — don't let us have any more of 
 this. I am very, very sorry to have offended 
 you, Lucy — here is a little present by way 
 of atonement ; kiss me, and make it up.' 
 
 1 How much ?' asked her ladyship, more 
 composedly. 
 
 ' Just once, my love, as a sign of peace/ 
 said the baronet, kissing her forehead. 
 
 ' No, I mean the cheque, Patrick,' said 
 his lady, raising herself on her couch and 
 inspecting the slip of paper. ' Only fifty 
 pounds ! I suppose I must be con 
 tent.' 
 
 At that moment the maid entered and
 
 1 68 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW, 
 
 informed her mistress that the nurse begged 
 her ladyship to go up to the nursery at 
 once, as Master Hugh was in a fit. 
 
 Sir Patrick rushed upstairs ; but his lady 
 said that her nerves were already too 
 much taxed to allow of her paying a visit 
 to her son, and requested that the doctor 
 should be sent for immediately. 
 
 ' If anything dreadful happens to that 
 child I shall have to postpone my dance ; 
 I cannot give it next week, and in any case 
 I shall have to appear in black. How un- 
 fortunately things happen !' Such were 
 Lady O' Moore's thoughts. 
 
 The doctor arrived, but too late to render 
 any real assistance ; the little child was 
 breathing his last. 
 
 Sir Patrick stood by ; his heart was full 
 of grief. There in that small cradle lay 
 the little one never destined to fulfil his
 
 ONLY THE DEATH OF A BABY. 169 
 
 hopes, its little hands clenched in agony, 
 its little life ebbing fast away. 
 
 ' Is her ladyship not coming ?' he said, 
 through his tears. 
 
 1 She is too unwell, Sir Patrick,' was the 
 answer. 
 
 The baronet bit his lip. ' Has Miss 
 Kathleen not returned home yet ?' he 
 asked. 
 
 1 Not yet, Sir Patrick.' 
 
 Kathleen was out at a dance, to which 
 her ladyship had refused to accompany 
 her as chaperon, so she had engaged the 
 services of a friend. 
 
 ' Is no one else coming ?' asked Sir Pat- 
 rick, as he knelt down by the cradle, with 
 a longing at heart to recall life to the little 
 one whose spirit was passing away. The 
 father's tears fell fast and free : ' My poor 
 child f he sobbed ; ' my poor child, would
 
 170 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 that the other one had been your 
 mother !' 
 
 Kathleen came into the room at the 
 moment, and went up to the cradle. 
 
 ' Is he dead, papa ?' she asked. ' Where 
 is mamma ?' 
 
 Sir Patrick took his daughter's arm and 
 left the room. 
 
 ' Where is mamma ?' asked Kathleen 
 again. 
 
 ■ She is unwell, dear/ answered Sir 
 Patrick. 
 
 ' Was poor little baby ill long ?' she 
 asked. 
 
 1 Only a few minutes, Kathleen ; poor 
 boy !' 
 
 ' Shall I go and see mamma ? She must 
 be upset about baby's death.' 
 
 ' She doesn't know of it yet, Kathleen ; 
 she was told that the child was ill, but she
 
 ONLY THE DEATH OF A BABY. 171 
 
 could not come up. She has been upset 
 all the evening/ 
 
 1 About what, papa ? Let me go to 
 her!' 
 
 1 No, no, Kathleen ; much better not to- 
 night. Good-night, my love,' he said, 
 kissing her. 
 
 When Sir Patrick entered his own room 
 his wife asked him : 
 
 ' How is baby ?' 
 
 ' Baby is dead P he said quietly. He 
 thought such a sudden announcement 
 would have no great effect upon her r 
 after she had allowed her little indispo- 
 sition to prevent her going to her dying 
 child. 
 
 1 Baby dead ? she asked, sitting upright 
 on the sofa where she had been lying down. 
 * Impossible !' 
 
 1 The poor child is gone !' said Sir
 
 172 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 Patrick, brushing away a tear with his 
 hand. 
 
 ' What could have killed it ? Those 
 nurses can never be trusted. Perhaps the 
 child was poisoned ; who knows ? 
 
 All this was said very quietly. Sir 
 Patrick certainly did not expect so emotion- 
 less a reception of the bad news as this ; 
 he was afraid to say anything, he dreaded 
 another fit of hysterics ; and more than 
 this, he did not feel disposed to try a repe- 
 tition of the remedy already used that 
 evening. 
 
 He merely looked at his wife, and said — 
 * Poor little child ! I am sadly grieved. I 
 did expect to see the child grow up to be 
 the child of my old age, and I am bitterly 
 disappointed.' 
 
 ' So am 1/ said her ladyship, yawning. 
 
 Sir Patrick waited for something more.
 
 ONLY THE DEATH OF A BABY. 173 
 
 ' It is so very awkward,' continued Lady 
 O'Moore. ' I shall have to put off my 
 dance for at least a week, and must, of 
 course, appear in mourning. I beg of 
 you, Patrick, to have no parade of a 
 funeral.' 
 
 Sir Patrick was leaving the room, when 
 his wife asked him where he was going. 
 
 ' I am going to F my study,' he answered 
 quietly. 
 
 Sir Patrick sat a long time thinking over 
 what had transpired. He was sad at 
 heart for the loss of his child ; and his 
 wife's heartlessness filled him with dismay. 
 It offered such a contrast to the opinion he 
 had originally formed of Lucy before he 
 married her. However, it was too late to 
 go back now ; the step was taken long 
 since, and he must abide by the results oi 
 his over-hasty choice.
 
 174 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 Lady O'Moore, after revolving the ques- 
 tion of propriety in her mind, determined 
 to have her dance as soon as she could, 
 and then she fell asleep.
 
 MY LADY S BOWER. 175 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MY LADY'S BOWER. 
 ' She is a woman, and therefore may be woo'd.' 
 
 The baby had been buried scarcely three 
 weeks, when Lady O' Moore gave the ball 
 which she had felt compelled to post- 
 pone. 
 
 Hugh Unyan had been a good deal at 
 his brother-in-law's house, and Sir Patrick 
 was fain to acknowledge to his wife that 
 her brother was a fine handsome fellow. 
 Lady O' Moore was pleased with this 
 opinion, and added the remark, that Hugh 
 paid great attention to Kathleen, which
 
 176 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 seemed in no way to be unpleasant to 
 her. 
 
 Sir Patrick had not noticed this, he said. 
 Of course he should neither guide nor 
 object to his daughter's choice of a hus- 
 band, but at the same time he would never 
 give his consent to her marrying any one 
 who was not in a position to maintain her. 
 It was true that Kathleen would have a 
 large fortune of her own, but that was not 
 enough ; he had very few strong objec- 
 tions, but among the few was the one that 
 he disliked to see a husband entirely 
 dependent upon his wife's pocket for 
 existence. 
 
 Lady O'Moore went further, and asked 
 what course Sir Patrick would take did 
 Kathleen choose Hugh as her suitor. 
 He answered that he should not object 
 to an engagement; but that until Hugh
 
 MY LADY'S BOWER. 177 
 
 was really earning a livelihood sufficient 
 for the support of himself and a wife, he, 
 Sir Patrick, would not give his consent 
 to a marriage. 
 
 Lady O'Moore was thus in possession 
 of her husband's mind upon the subject, 
 and she had several conversations with her 
 brother upon the matter of his marrying 
 Kathleen. He had received many gifts 
 from his sister, who had also refurnished 
 his bachelor's room for him. Funds for 
 these purposes were easily procured so 
 long as her ladyship received money as 
 necessary for Kathleen's wardrobe ; but 
 now that her step-daughter expended for 
 herself, Master Hugh Unyan had fewer 
 presents and less cash in his pocket. 
 
 His sister of course received large sums 
 from her husband for her own use ; but she 
 was not unselfish enough to curtail her own 
 
 vol. 1. 12
 
 178 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 expenditure, to lessen the depth of her 
 lace, the length of her train, or the quan- 
 tity of her jewellery, in order to provide a 
 brother with cash. No, Lady O'Moore 
 would do all in her power to better his 
 position, but she did not intend to make 
 self-sacrifices in order to bring - that to 
 pass. 
 
 At five o'clock in the evening of the 
 day of Lady O' Moore's ball, Hugh Unyan 
 appeared in his sister's boudoir, to take 
 tea with her and to talk over an important 
 matter concerning which her ladyship had 
 sent him a little three-cornered note during 
 the afternoon. 
 
 Her ladyship was sitting in a low arm- 
 chair before the fire ; beside her was a 
 small table on which was placed a tea- 
 service, the cost of which would have kept 
 two poor families from starvation for
 
 MY LADY S BOWER. 179 
 
 twelve months. She was elegantly 
 dressed in a loose degage style, for she 
 was now ' resting ' in order to better 
 undergo the fatigues of the coming dance. 
 -What had tired her, it is hard to say. She 
 had taken a drive in the morning, had 
 spent a good deal of money, had lunched 
 well, and had then walked upstairs to her 
 sanctum, where she had sat listlessly 
 skimming some book, and here and there 
 improving her time with a little nap. 
 Sir Patrick rarely entered this boudoir, 
 Kathleen, never ; she used to do so, but 
 Lady O'Moore usually entered upon some 
 conversation which disgusted her step- 
 daughter by its heartlessness and foolish 
 emptiness. Thus it chanced that her 
 ladyship was free from interruption in 
 her elegant little room, and that Hugh 
 Unyan was often there, closeted with her, 
 
 12 — 2
 
 180 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 when no one dreamed that he was even in 
 the house. 
 
 Hugh Unyan is occupying another low 
 chair, has one of the exquisite tea-cups 
 balanced upon his knee, and is puffing 
 away at a little cigarette, for he is even 
 allowed to smoke in my lady's bower. 
 
 1 Take care of that cup, Hugh,' said her 
 ladyship, glancing uneasily at its precarious 
 situation. 
 
 ' All right, Lucy. I was just thinking 
 what a difference this room is to the one 
 we had in olden days ; and, what is more, 
 it is your own/ said Hugh, smiling con- 
 tentedly. 
 
 ' Hush !' said Lucy, sipping her tea. 
 
 'Why "hush," Lucy? No one can hear 
 it, and besides, I don't see any harm in us 
 two talking of old days. You certainly 
 have played your cards well ; this is a
 
 MY LADY'S BOWER. i8r 
 
 great improvement upon the vulgar old 
 villa outside London, isn't it ?' asked 
 Hugh, looking round upon blue silk, gilt 
 furniture, mirrors and old china. 
 
 'Hugh!' said Lady O'Moore, severely, 
 ' I don't wish you to talk of what is past 
 We have plenty to talk of that concerns 
 us at the present, or rather that concerns 
 you/ 
 
 ' Well, then, I'll change the subject,' 
 said Hugh. i That is a handsome dress 
 you have on, Lucy.' 
 
 ' Yes, Hugh. Well, what of that ?' 
 1 1 was thinking that you might let a 
 fellow have a little more cash nowadays ; it 
 comes very seldom now.' 
 
 4 I have told you, Hugh, that Sir Patrick 
 has reduced my expenditure, and that I 
 cannot let you have more than I do.' 
 
 ' But you are so well off, Lucy/ pleaded
 
 182 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 her brother. ' A dress or two less would 
 make no difference to you, and the cost 
 of them would be very acceptable to 
 
 me.' 
 
 ' I cannot do with less dresses than I 
 have, Hugh ; in fact, I want more, but Sir 
 Patrick has become quite stingy lately. I 
 do not dress even now in a manner suitable 
 to my position.* 
 
 ' Come, Lucy, that's nonsense ! I don't 
 like to hear you give expression to those 
 11 airs." Fancy a few years ago what you 
 would have given for a plain silk gown ! 
 and now you have dresses by scores of all 
 colours and fashions ; and as to your posi- 
 tion, you certainly dress well enough for 
 that, and most people remember that you 
 
 were a governess.' 
 
 Lady O'Moore coloured, and said 
 angrily :
 
 MY LADY'S BOWER. 183 
 
 ' 1 do wish, Hugh, that you would not 
 talk like that ; this is the second time I 
 have begged you not to this afternoon. I 
 am, is not what I was : 1 move in the best 
 society, and I am Lady O'Moore ; this 
 is a fact, and whatever jealous people may 
 say, they cannot alter it.' 
 
 1 As long as you are not pretentious, 
 Lucy, you're all right. I hate that. I don't 
 tell every one or any one what my father 
 was, I behave as a gentleman — I am a gen- 
 tleman, but I never set up for " snubbing" 
 others or for saying that I have blue blood 
 in my veins. There, that's all ; and now 
 what is it that you wrote to me about ?' 
 
 Hereupon, having unburdened his con- 
 science of the foregoing, he lighted a 
 cigarette. 
 
 Lady O'Moore did not reply for a 
 minute or two ; she leant forward in her
 
 1 84 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 chair, resting her elbow on her knee, while 
 she twisted round in her hand an elegant 
 fire-screen. 
 
 1 I do not think it kind of you to talk 
 like that to me, Hugh/ said his sister, re- 
 proachfully. ' I have given you all the 
 money I have been able to get, and risked 
 Sir Patrick's anger for your sake. Besides 
 that, are you not acting a part ? Does not 
 your love of gambling lead you into a 
 society which is not your own ? is not that 
 pretension ?' 
 
 1 No, Lucy/ replied Hugh, ' decidedly 
 not. I am a gentleman and fit for gentle- 
 men's society ; my manners are easy, and 
 I do not profess to be what I am not. I 
 pay my honour debts regularly, and no one 
 can say a word against me on this ac- 
 count.' 
 
 e And how would you have paid them if
 
 MY LADY'S BOWER. 185 
 
 your sister were not Lady O'Moore, Hugh? 
 who would have come to your rescue ?' 
 asked his sister. 
 
 Hugh did not reply to this, but a minute 
 or two afterwards asked : 
 
 ' What have you to say to me of im- 
 portance ?' 
 
 ' Merely that Sir Patrick would not con- 
 sent to your marriage with Kathleen,' said 
 her ladyship, quietly. 
 
 ' Then what is the use of my continuing 
 to make up to her ? I like it, it is true ; 
 she's a very charming girl and all that, but 
 there are other things to be considered. 
 But why does he object, Lucy ? Come, 
 you're only piqued, and want to annoy 
 me.' 
 
 ' Sir Patrick would consent to an en- 
 gagement, Hugh, but not to marriage.' 
 
 4 And why not, Lucy ?'
 
 1 86 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 1 Because he will not allow his daughter 
 to marry a man who has no means of 
 livelihood.' 
 
 1 But, hang it ! she will have enough for 
 both of us.' 
 
 ' That matters not. Sir Patrick is re- 
 solved not to give his consent to any 
 marriage for Kathleen, where the husband 
 has no profession.' 
 
 ' But I have a profession, Lucy !' 
 
 ■ And what use do you make of it, 
 Hugh ?' 
 
 4 Plenty of use ; I have had several cases 
 lately.' 
 
 * And the money you got for them ?' 
 
 ' Is spent, of course. I had debts to 
 pay.' 
 
 ' You must give up the society you mix 
 in, Hugh, if you ever mean to make Kath- 
 leen your wife. You must save ; you must
 
 MY LADY'S BOWER. 187 
 
 give some proof that you are getting on. 
 I have managed well for myself; I have 
 done my best for you, and the rest you 
 must do yourself.' 
 
 ' But come, Lucy, with your influence 
 over Sir Patrick, you can induce him to 
 consent to a marriage.' 
 
 1 It is impossible ! he is very firm in 
 just a few things, and this is one of 
 them.' 
 
 ' Then, I suppose, there is nothing for 
 me to do but to slave.' 
 
 1 You must work hard, Hugh ; you must 
 show some signs of progress, and then, 
 doubtless, Sir Patrick will help you in 
 your profession. But do not give up your 
 idea of winning Kathleen as soon as pos- 
 sible. At first I fancied matters would be 
 entirely smooth for you, and now there is 
 only this little difficulty in the way.'
 
 188 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 1 True/ said Hugh, stroking his mou- 
 stache ; ' and that difficulty might be re- 
 moved sooner than we expect.' 
 
 1 How ?' asked Lady O'Moore. 
 
 c I hardly like to say, Lucy, for your 
 sake ; but I mean, by Sir Patrick's 
 death.' 
 
 Her ladyship started. Thoughts of Sir 
 Patrick's death were not new to her ; she 
 had often wondered what she ought to do 
 if he were to die and leave her a wealthy 
 woman. A governess might become even 
 more than a Lady O'Moore. 
 
 c How would that affect the question ?' 
 she asked innocently. 
 
 1 Why, simply by removing the only ob- 
 stacle in my way. Of course I should be 
 very sorry for such a thing to happen, for 
 your sake, Lucy.' 
 
 ' Of course you would/ said her lady-
 
 MY LADY S BOWER. 189 
 
 ship, dryly. ' How do you suppose it 
 would affect me V 
 
 ' Well, you would be sorry to lose your 
 husband, I presume,' said Hugh, looking 
 at his sister with some astonishment. 
 
 ' How do you know that ?' she asked. 
 
 1 It is natural that you should be, Lucy/ 
 
 ' That is enough, Hugh ; of course it is 
 natural. But what progress are you making 
 with Kathleen ?' 
 
 1 So far satisfactory, that I mean to 
 propose to her to-night.' 
 
 1 To-night ! And do you really care for 
 her, or for her fortune, Hugh ?' 
 
 ' I am fond of her, Lucy ; I am sure, at 
 any rate, that I have her love, and the other 
 comes with it' 
 
 4 What is love, Hugh ?' 
 
 1 You should know, Lucy. Kathleen told 
 me the other day that she didn't really
 
 190 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 know what it was ; but she will know, and 
 you know already.' 
 
 ' I do not, Hugh ; I cannot tell you what 
 it is. I am happy — very happy ; but do you 
 suppose I should be, if Sir Patrick were a 
 poor man, or even a man of moderate 
 means ? Love without money looks well 
 on paper, but in reality it must be a miser- 
 able article. Pshaw ! your love-matches !' 
 
 Hugh Unyan was surprised to hear his 
 sister speak thus ; he had great pride in 
 the winning hand she had played, and 
 hopes in the hand that she might play, but 
 he did not admire her heartless ideas. 
 The words in themselves were perhaps 
 not of much account, but the manner in 
 which they were said was convincing, and 
 told the hearer that they came from the 
 heart, or rather from the stone that filled 
 the place of it. Her callous indifference
 
 MY LADY S BOWER. 191 
 
 for the loss of her child had palled upon 
 him, and in all his conversations with her 
 he had noticed how flinty were her senti- 
 ments, how worldly her desires, and how 
 shallow was her affection. 
 
 1 You are a queer girl, Lucy,' he said at 
 length. ' I remember that you always 
 were so.' 
 
 ' I am truthful, at any rate, and say what 
 I mean. You may believe that you are 
 really in love with Kathleen, but against 
 this is the fact that the engagement was 
 arranged to take place even before you 
 ever saw her ; at the same time, real love 
 is content with the person and wants neither 
 goods nor chattels, so they say. If you 
 reason with yourself for a moment, you 
 will see how different would be the fact of 
 marrying Kathleen O'Moore as a penniless 
 girl, and Kathleen O'Moore as an heiress.'
 
 192 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 ' And what have you to say to her love 
 for me ?' asked Hugh, a little annoyed. ' I 
 have no fortune, and yet I believe that 
 Kathleen will accept me to-night.' 
 
 ' Do not be too sure of that, Hugh ; 
 there was another in the field before you, 
 who simply worshipped the very ground 
 she trod upon, and yet she refused him. 
 If she should accept you, you have your 
 good looks to thank ; but remember, that 
 is not all : before you can marry her you 
 have something else to do/ 
 
 ' We shall see, Lucy. How long do you 
 expect to be in Dublin ?' 
 
 1 I cannot say ; but we shall probably 
 leave for Inchigeela in March or April.' 
 
 ' What sort of place is that, Lucy ?' 
 
 ' Sir Patrick has a very fine house there; 
 but I cannot bear the place. There is a 
 Mr. Clavering lives next door to us, whom
 
 MY LADY S BOWER. 193 
 
 I do not like. I always feel uncomfortable 
 in his presence ; he's one of those who 
 seem to see through you/ 
 
 f What is he, Lucy ?' 
 
 1 He was a soldier ; has an only son, who 
 joined the 88th about a month before we 
 left for Dublin, and who was the very man 
 I have told you of, whom Kathleen refused. 
 By the way, Hugh, do you know if his 
 regiment has yet left for Spain ?' 
 
 ' 1 do not know ; but it's very probable 
 that it has. And now I'm off, Lucy. I 
 shall be here early. Your invitations are 
 for nine o'clock, are they not ?' 
 
 i Yes, but of course no one will be here 
 before ten, or after. But if you come 
 early you can make good use of your 
 time, Hugh. Good-bye !' And her lady- 
 ship languidly saluted her brother with a 
 kiss. 
 
 vol. 1. 13
 
 194 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 Hugh Unyan has nut yet been described. 
 He was tall, about six feet in height, had 
 dark curly hair, fine bright eyes and well- 
 cut features, and wore a heavy moustache. 
 His figure was well-built; in fact both in 
 appearance and manner he was calcu- 
 lated to work upon the hearts of the fair 
 sex. 
 
 Kathleen had certainly taken a great 
 fancy to him ; she drew comparisons 
 between him and Frank Clavering, and 
 the latter had not benefited by them. 
 Hugh was more lively than Frank, less 
 sentimental, and did not worry her with 
 love-speeches as her old boy lover had 
 done. Hugh's nature, she thought, was 
 more suited to her own ; he was light- 
 hearted and darted off from one subject to 
 another like a butterfly. He had plenty 
 of amusing little anecdotes, was a capital
 
 MY LADY S BOVVER. 195 
 
 mimic, a good dancer, but did not, she had 
 to confess, seem nearly as much at home 
 on horseback as her old friend did. In 
 spite of that he waged war against fair 
 enemies who at last received him as their 
 friend. 
 
 As Kathleen dressed for the dance that 
 night she found herself taking more pains 
 than usual with her toilette. She consulted 
 her glass more than was her wont, and 
 was particularly careful as to the braiding 
 of her hair and the ' fixing ' of her dress. 
 Her face was flushed and her fingers, too 
 ready for their task, were not dexterous. 
 At length she descended to the ball-room ; 
 there was a twilight look about her, she 
 had arranged the colours of her dress so 
 as to give an idea of mourning for her little 
 half-brother, so recently dead, and so easily 
 forgotten by all, save his father.
 
 196 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 Lady O'Moore was already in the room ; 
 she was at the far end of it ; her dress was 
 black, and there was some one talking to 
 her. Kathleen's heart beat a little quicker; 
 she reproached herself with being so foolish, 
 and yet, as she walked towards her mother, 
 the colour came and went upon her fair 
 face. 
 
 And Hugh was the cause of all this, 
 though had such a thing been suggested 
 to Kathleen by any one else she would 
 have denied it indignantly. 
 
 Hugh came towards her, and offering 
 her his arm, led her to where her step- 
 mother was sitting. 
 
 1 1 congratulate you, Kathleen, upon 
 your appearance,' said Lady O'Moore, 
 smiling innocently. 
 
 'So do I, Miss O'Moore,' said 
 Hugh.
 
 MY LADY S BOWER, 197 
 
 Kathleen said nothing, but her little 
 hand trembled upon his arm. 
 
 4 I may have the pleasure of the first 
 dance with you, may I not ?' asked Hugh. 
 
 'Certainly, Mr. Unyan, with all my 
 heart.' 
 
 The guests began to come in at last, 
 until there were enough to begin dancing. 
 Lady O' Moore was soon in the midst of 
 receiving her friends, and Hugh led off 
 Kathleen in the dance. 
 
 It was a study to watch Lady O'Moore 
 receiving her guests at the door which 
 opened upon the staircase ; to see the 
 condescension with which she received 
 some, the repellant manner she exercised 
 towards others, and the gracious way in 
 which she shook hands with the really 
 good people. Sir Patrick stood near her, 
 and was equally affable to high and low.
 
 198 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 In this the true breeding came out; there 
 was the pretension of the parvenu in 
 contrast with the polished and unstudied 
 ease of the country gentleman, who had 
 been what his father had been, and who 
 had inherited from him and from a line of 
 unsullied name all that constitutes what is 
 born, not made. There was a painful 
 expression upon the baroness face now 
 and then, as he thought of his little dead 
 son. He had almost begged his wife to 
 put off the dance for some time, but she 
 had refused his request, and preferred to 
 cause her husband pain, rather than deny 
 herself the pleasures of society. Lady 
 O'Moore's conduct, however, in this 
 matter, had not escaped censure ; there is 
 no use in crying Favete Unguis to the 
 world, it always has a thorn to put in 
 somewhere ; and several had refused her
 
 MY LADY S BOWER. 199 
 
 ladyship's invitations because of her 
 strange ideas of decorum in the matter, 
 although their refusals had merely stated 
 that they regretted extremely that they 
 could not accept Lady O'Moore's kind 
 invitation. 
 
 Hugh, after having danced two or three 
 times with Kathleen, led her off into an 
 anteroom where were refreshments of a 
 lighter kind to recuperate the exhausted 
 powers of the dancers. 
 
 Kathleen partook of something, but as 
 the room was crowded, it did not suit 
 Hugh's purpose to stay there, so he led 
 her off into another room where were card- 
 tables, which, for the time, were deserted. 
 
 ' Shall we rest here for a little ?' he 
 asked. 
 
 * Yes, I shall be very glard. Dancing 
 makes one very warm, and I am rather
 
 200 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 tired/ said Kathleen, seating herself upon 
 a couch. Hugh sat down beside her. 
 
 ' I am afraid you have danced too much,' 
 he said. ' I want to ask you a question, 
 Miss O'Moore, or rather Kathleen, if I 
 may call you so.' 
 
 'What is it, Mr. Unyan ?' asked Kath- 
 leen. 
 
 * You told me some time ago that you 
 really did not know what love was. Is 
 that still the case ?' 
 
 ' I hardly know; yes — I think so/ 
 
 1 Will you ever learn, Kathleen ? he 
 asked. 
 
 1 Perhaps I might, but why do you want 
 to know ?' she asked timidly. 
 
 1 Because I want to know if I may try to 
 teach you the lesson,' said Hugh. 
 
 ' Yes, you may try, but perhaps you 
 won't succeed.'
 
 MY LADY'S BOWER. 201 
 
 1 Do not fear for that ! I will teach you 
 better than young Clavering,' insinuated 
 Hugh. 
 
 ' Who told you anything about Frank ?' 
 asked Kathleen, as the colour came to her 
 cheeks. 
 
 1 I have heard,' answered Hugh, smiling. 
 1 I will teach you to love, Kathleen, and to 
 love me.' 
 
 4 How can you promise me that ?' she 
 asked. 
 
 ' Easily, if you will promise me another 
 thing,' he said. 
 
 ' What is that ?' asked Kathleen. 
 
 ' If you will promise me to become my 
 wife, I will teach you, Kathleen, and you 
 shall learn your lesson easily and well,' he 
 whispered, taking her hand in his. 
 
 4 Do you mean for me to promise you 
 that now ?'
 
 202 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 1 Yes, Kathleen, now.' 
 
 ' Not now, Hugh, I must have a little 
 time to think.' 
 
 ' How long, Kathleen ?' 
 
 'If I like you at the end of six months 
 as much as 1 do now, I will promise to be 
 your wife.' 
 
 * Love me, you mean, Kathleen.' 
 
 4 I mean what I say, Hugh ; are you 
 content ? 
 
 ' Yes, Kathleen, your promise is as good 
 as if given now/ 
 
 4 We shall see,' she said, laughing. 
 1 But come, let us go back into the 
 ball-room ; mamma will wonder where I 
 am/ 
 
 'She will guess,' was all Hugh said. 
 
 Before he left the ball, he had informed 
 his sister of his success. Lady O' Moore 
 was not quite so sanguine ; six months was
 
 MY LADY S BOWER. 203 
 
 a long time off, and her step-daughter 
 might see a legion to choose from before 
 then, one of whom might be more to her 
 fancy than Hu^rh.
 
 204 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE BLIND BOy's 'QUID PRO QUO.' 
 * Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll do good deeds on't.' 
 
 Throughout the winter and spring nothing 
 of note passed in Inchigeela. 
 
 Mr. Clavering found it lonely deprived 
 of his son and of his neighbour. Had it 
 not been for the blind boy he would have 
 been left entirely alone; as it was, the child 
 visited him every day. 
 
 Frank Clavering wrote now and again 
 to his father, and in his last letter had 
 advised the departure of the 88th for the 
 Peninsula.
 
 THE BLIND BOY *S 'QUID PRO QUO.' 205 
 
 Sir Patrick had also written a letter to 
 his friend telling him of the death of his 
 little son, but saying nothing of his wife's 
 indifference, though he did mention the 
 fact of her gaiety and of his own long- 
 ing to be back once more in quiet In- 
 chigeela ; he was perfectly wearied of 
 Dublin. 
 
 It wanted now but a week to the return 
 of the OMoores to Arbela. Mr. Claver- 
 ing carefully guarded a letter which was 
 entrusted to him for delivery to Kathleen. 
 It had been enclosed in Frank's last letter 
 to his father, the one he wrote just before 
 he left for the war. 
 
 It was a fine April day, nature was very 
 forward, and the trees were covered with 
 fresh young leaves. There was a ripple 
 on the lake, which now shone bright as a 
 mirror in the sunshine, and aeain looked
 
 2o6 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 dark, as some passing cloud crossed the 
 face of the sun. 
 
 Pat O'Leary was wending his way to 
 Clonmore : he found his way there readily 
 enoueh now with the aid of a stick, and 
 never required the assistance of Biddy as 
 guide. 
 
 He could not look upon the face of the 
 earth, but he could mentally see the change 
 which was wrought there, now that winter 
 had passed away with its winding-sheet of 
 snow and its icy-cold winds. He had a 
 consciousness of sunshine, a feeling of re- 
 freshed nature, and a greater longing than 
 ever to take one peep at his surroundings, 
 even might he do no more. 
 
 He had already reached the road which 
 skirts the lake, when he heard a quick step 
 behind him, and heard moreover some one 
 calling him by name.
 
 THE BLIND B0\ S ' QUID PRO QUO. 207 
 
 c Who are ye thin, and what d'ye want ?' 
 he asked. 
 
 ' Me name is O'Crotty, an' I'm a friend 
 of your father's, an' I have somethin' to 
 say to you.' 
 
 1 What is it ?' asked Pat. 
 
 1 Shure, thin, the very nixt time as ye 
 goes to Cork to see your father in gaol, I 
 want to go with you/ replied the man. 
 
 ' We're not goin' agin ; we've been once, 
 an' me father doesn't want to see us agin.' 
 
 1 Shure, but I want to see him, an' ye 
 can arrange a trip ; ye go wi' a magistrit's 
 order, an' I shall get an appearance of re- 
 spectability by goin' wi' you,' said the man, 
 determinedly. 
 
 4 An' what should ye be wantin' wi' me 
 father ? I'm thinkin' that you are one of 
 the bad lot that led him to try an' shoot 
 Mr. ClaverinV
 
 208 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 4 Bad lot do ye call us, ye spalpeen ? 
 It's liberty we want, an' that's not a bad 
 thing.' 
 
 1 Ye nearly made me father a murderer 
 of a good man, an' that's a bad thing/ said 
 the child, undauntedly. 
 
 1 Faith, thin, are ye a friend to the land- 
 lords and a son to Mike O'Leary ? Ye 
 get your bad blood from your mother, I 
 s'pose.' 
 
 ' I won't have any more to say to you — 
 let me pass.' 
 
 The man seized him roughly by the 
 arm. 
 
 ' Not yet, me boy, not yet. An' now I 
 want to know somethin' about Mr. Claver- 
 in' ! Is he afraid of bein' shot at again, or 
 does he think he is safe so long as your 
 father's in prison ? 
 
 1 Let me pass ; I won't say a word about
 
 THE BLIND BOY'S ' QUID PRO QUO.' 209 
 
 Mr. Claverin' ; ye'll be wantin' to kill him 
 or do him some harm : let me pass/ 
 
 1 Ye little devil ye,' said the man, twist- 
 ing the boy's arm until he cried with pain, 
 1 so that's the cur ye are, is it ? A friend 
 to the gintry ! Faith ! an' I'd give ye a 
 good hidin' if ye were not blind.' 
 
 ' Let me go,' said Pat pleadingly ; ' you 
 are breakin' my arm ; plaise let go, an' 
 mind me fiddle.' 
 
 1 Give us hold of that fiddle o' yours, of 
 which they say you're mighty fond, d'ye 
 hear ?' said the man, trying to seize it. 
 
 Pat did his best to protect that which 
 he held dearer than life, but all in vain ; it 
 was wrested from his grasp, and with a 
 cry of anguish he sank down upon the 
 road and buried his face in his arm. The 
 poor boy cried bitterly, but the man said 
 brutally : 
 
 vol. 1. 14
 
 210 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 ' Faith, thin, I'll jist put ye to the 
 torture, ye young divil. Tell me what I 
 want to know, or I'll smash this gimcrack 
 into fifty bits !' 
 
 No answer from Pat. 
 
 ' D'ye hear ?' asked the man savagely. 
 
 ' Oh, God ! don't let him,' sobbed the 
 boy ; ' let him hurt me but not me fiddle.' 
 
 ' Now, thin, say yes or no before I count 
 five. Git up, ye spalpeen, an' don't sulk 
 there,' said O'Crotty, giving him a kick. 
 
 Poor Pat struggled to his feet, and 
 said : 
 
 ' Plaise don't hurt that — don't hurt that ; 
 strike me if ye like — oh God ! don't let 
 him.' 
 
 * Will ye tell me what I want to know 
 about Mr. Claverin', thin ?' 
 
 ' No, not a word,' sobbed Pat. 
 
 ' Well, thin, by the time I've counted five,
 
 THE BLIND BOV's 'QUID PRO QUO.'' 211 
 
 if ye don't, this fiddle goes to pieces. 
 One,' he began, ■ two — three — four — ' ere 
 he could say * five ' he received a blow 
 from behind and felt himself in a powerful 
 grasp, while the poor old violin dropped at 
 the feet of its little blind master, who could 
 not make out what had happened. 
 
 He heard the sounds of a wrestle, then 
 the words : ' Let me go, ye villen,' and. 
 then a heavy thud, which indicated the 
 fall to the ground of one of the wrestlers. 
 
 ' Your fiddle is all right, Pat,' said a 
 voice, which the blind boy knew well. 
 
 * Oh ! Mr. Claverin, thank God for that 
 and for you ; plaise, sur, and are ye hurt ?' 
 asked the boy, drying his eyes and groping 
 for his fiddle, and also for his hat and stick, 
 which had fallen upon the road. 
 
 1 No, Pat, not at all ; but make your way 
 to Clonmore, like a good boy, and send two 
 
 14—2
 
 212 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW, 
 
 or three people here to take care of this 
 ruffian ; I cannot hold him long/ said Mr. 
 Clavering. 
 
 Pat walked off as fast as he could, hug- 
 ging his fiddle close to him. He had just 
 escaped from what would have been his 
 greatest grief, and the sorrow and anguish 
 of those few moments of suspense, while 
 the man held his violin between life and 
 death, had caused him intense pain. The 
 change from that was like health after 
 sickness : it was mourning turned into joy ; 
 and as the boy went along towards Clon- 
 more, anxious though he was to perform 
 his mission, he felt light in spirits, rejoiced 
 at his escape from danger, while his heart 
 was overbrimming with gratitude to his 
 friend, who had understood him so well all 
 along, and who, realising the pain which 
 the loss of his fiddle would cause him,
 
 THE BLIND BOY'S 'QUID PRO QUO.' 213 
 
 had interposed and saved his second 
 being. 
 
 Meantime Mr. Clavering found it very- 
 difficult to hold O'Crotty ; the man was 
 powerful, and each moment made more 
 desperate efforts to get himself free. At 
 length he succeeded in doing so, and made 
 a stab at Mr. Clavering with a knife. This 
 was avoided, and the two men closed in a 
 wrestle until they fell to the ground locked 
 in each other's arms, Mr. Clavering under- 
 neath. 
 
 'Now I have ye, ye villen,' said O'Crotty 
 savagely, and drawing his knife, he stabbed 
 Mr. Clavering, who was struggling violently 
 to get free. Without waiting to see how 
 he had dealt the blow, or if Mr. Clavering 
 were dead or not, he struck off from the 
 road and got into some hiding-place in 
 order to escape from the notice of the
 
 214 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 pursuit which he knew would certainly be 
 made, and that almost immediately. 
 
 Mr. Clavering fainted from loss of blood 
 and was already discovered by some 
 passers by, when two or three servants, 
 who had followed the blind boy's direc- 
 tions, arrived upon the scene of the scuffle. 
 Loud were the outcries made against the 
 unknown villain who had killed, to all ap- 
 pearances, the master of Clonmore. 
 
 Mr. Clavering was carried home upon a 
 hurdle, while a pursuit was made far and 
 wide for O'Crotty, but all in vain ; no 
 traces of the perpetrator of the outrage 
 could be discovered, although they 
 searched until nightfall. 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Clavering was carried 
 up into his bedroom, and was discovered 
 to be still alive, although severely wounded
 
 THE BLIND BOY'S l QUID PRO QUO.' 213 
 
 in the left side. A messenger was de- 
 spatched post-haste for the doctor. 
 
 News spreads quickly, and the pas- 
 sengers by the coach to and from Crooks- 
 town heard many alarming and exaggerated 
 reports of the affair. Mr. Clavering was 
 known and respected for miles round, and 
 twice in the day were the smoking teams 
 pulled up before the gate of Clonmore and 
 the ' guard ' sent up to the house to make 
 inquiries. 
 
 Pat O'Leary was in the library when 
 Mr. Clavering was carried into the house, 
 and the confused sound of voices and the 
 steps of many men, as of those carrying a 
 heavy weight, filled his little heart with 
 alarm and dismay. 
 
 ' What is it ?' he asked eagerly, going 
 out into the hall. 
 
 * Shure, thin, an' some bla'guard has
 
 216 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 murthered Mr. Claverin', an' may the divil 
 take him,' said a servant to Pat. 
 
 1 He isn't dead ?' said the boy, in woeful 
 accents. 
 
 ' Faith, thin, he is— he'll never breathe no 
 more,' said the same domestic cautiously. 
 
 1 Oh !' sobbed the boy, ' have I killed 
 him ? Is it my fault V and going into the 
 library, he burst into a paroxysm of grief. 
 1 What have I done for him — oh, wisha — 
 wish a, that he is murthered for me ? Oh ! 
 Mr. Claverin', honey, come back to me — 
 come back to poor Pat ; I'd rayther not live 
 without ye now, for I love ye more than 
 me fiddle. What can I do for him ? — I can- 
 not bring him back to life, an' the A 'mighty 
 won't. Oh ! let me suffer with him — let 
 me suffer somethin' for him, as he was 
 murthered for me,' wept the boy bitterly. 
 He ceased crying suddenly, took his fiddle
 
 THE BLIND BOY'S ' QUID BRO QUO.'' 217 
 
 into his hands and addressed it. ' It's 
 you,' he said, ' faith, thin, that I love most 
 in the world, now that me friend is mur- 
 thered. Ye were the thing- he fought for, 
 because ye are mine, an' because I love 
 you ; but I must suffer too ; no, no, he 
 must not be the only one — I must share his 
 throubles. Good-bye,' he continued sadly, 
 as he kissed the old violin reverently, 
 ' good-bye, I love you, and he loved his 
 life, an' that's gone for me, an' ye must go 
 for him.' With this he put his fiddle on 
 the ground, raised his foot and stamped 
 with all his might upon the old instru- 
 ment. 
 
 The strings sighed out their dying breath, 
 and the blind boy sobbed loudly : ■ There, 
 there, I've done it, no more music for me! 
 But then he don't want it — he's got the 
 angels to play for him. Mr. Claverin'
 
 218 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 dead, my fiddle dead, an' now I wish I was 
 dead too. Ah ! wisha, wisha P 
 
 At length the child fell asleep, and slept 
 on until evening came, when Mrs. Machree, 
 who came into the library to close the 
 shutters, discovered him in the arm-chair. 
 
 ' Faith, thin, an' the child's been here all 
 day, an' his fiddle broken to bits too ! — what 
 does it all mean ?' she said, looking from 
 the boy to the broken violin. ' Pat, my 
 child, wake up an come an' have a bit of 
 supper/ 
 
 The boy sat upright in his chair and 
 said : 
 
 1 What is it? Is it all true, Mrs. 
 Machree ?' 
 
 ' Is what all true ?' asked the house- 
 keeper. 
 
 1 Shure that Mr. Claverin's dead an' me 
 fiddle in pieces ?' asked the boy.
 
 THE BLIND BOYS ' QUID PRO QUO. 219 
 
 i Ye're fiddle's broken, but Mr. Claverin's 
 not dead, thank the A'mighty ; it's touch 
 and go, but the doctor says there's hope.' 
 
 1 Oh ! Mrs. Machree/ said Pat earnestly, 
 * if Mr. Claverin' lives, nivir mind me 
 fiddle.' 
 
 ' Indeed and I should think not ; shure 
 it's on account of you that he got into the 
 trouble.' 
 
 ' I know,' said the child, * I know. 
 Where is he ? can't I see him ?' 
 
 1 He's in bed and you can't see him ; but 
 come along and have something to eat, and 
 ye'll have to stay here to-night, I'm think- 
 ing, and I must make you up a bed in me 
 own room,' said the housekeeper, leading 
 Pat out of the library. 
 
 The boy would eat scarcely anything. 
 He asked for his fiddle, and the house- 
 keeper gave him the poor broken instru-
 
 220 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 ment. Pat passed his hands over it, and 
 he discovered with a sigh how effectual 
 his self-sacrifice had been. 
 
 At length Mrs. Machree put him to bed 
 and left him, promising him that he should 
 see Mr. Clavering as soon as the doctor 
 would allow it. But Pat could not sleep ; 
 he tried in vain to compose himself; all 
 the trials and sorrows of the day crowded 
 upon his weary heart, it was the saddest 
 day of his little life. At last he left his 
 bed, found his clothes, and dressing him- 
 self, went upstairs and by instinct dis- 
 covered the door of Mr. Clavering's 
 bedroom. He listened and heard the 
 unconscious mutterings of the fevered 
 sufferer. Then he sank upon the door- 
 mat, pressing his fiddle close to himself, 
 and moaning : ' Ah ! wisha, wisha, all for 
 me, all for me !' he fell asleep.
 
 THE BLIND BOY'S 'QUID PRO QUO.' 221 
 
 Next morning early, when Mrs. Machree 
 came into her room, she found the bed 
 empty; she searched for Pat in the 
 library and elsewhere, and supposing, as 
 she did not find him, that he had gone 
 home, she went upstairs to inquire about 
 her master, and there she saw, to her in- 
 tense surprise, the blind boy fast asleep on 
 the door-mat. 
 
 ' Well/ she said to herself, ' if there was 
 ever a daft soul in this world, it's that 
 child !' but Widow Machree was quite 
 wrong.
 
 222 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 A NEW LOVE FOR AN OLD. 
 
 ' Do you not know I am a woman ? When I think, 
 I must speak.' 
 
 Three or four days after Mr. Clavering 
 received the wound from O'Crotty, he was 
 pronounced out of danger by the doctor. 
 
 Little Pat could not be induced to leave 
 the sick-room, but had carefully hidden 
 his fiddle out of sight. Every day he 
 dreaded lest Mr. Clavering should ask him 
 for music ; if he should do so, what excuse 
 was Pat to offer ? 
 
 At length one afternoon the invalid
 
 A NEW LOVE FOR AN OLD. 223 
 
 desired the blind boy to play for him. 
 Pat gave no answer, and showed no signs 
 of beginning, so Mr. Clavering repeated 
 his request. 
 
 * Shure, thin, I cannot play for you, yer 
 'oner,' said Pat, as he hung his head, and 
 the red flushed in his cheek. 
 
 ■ Why not, my boy ?' asked Mr. Claver- 
 ing in a faint voice ; ' I should so much 
 like to have some music.' 
 
 ' I cannot play, sur, my old fiddle is 
 dead,' said the boy, in a trembling voice. 
 
 1 Dead, Pat ! what has happened to it ?' 
 
 'I killed it, yer 'oner.' 
 
 ' What did you do that for, Pat ?' 
 
 * Because they told me ye were dead, 
 sur.' 
 
 1 But why should you destroy your fiddle 
 if I were dead, my boy ? — I cannot under- 
 stand you.'
 
 224 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 ' Shure, yer 'oner, ye understand most 
 things about me, but faith I don't think ye'll 
 understand this. I'll tell ye all about it.' 
 
 ' Show me the fiddle first, Pat,' said Mr. 
 Clavering. The blind boy found his way 
 over to the window, and from behind one 
 of the curtains drew forth his battered 
 violin. He took it over to Mr. Claver- 
 inor's bedside. 
 
 ' Is it altogether smash'd, yer 'oner ?' 
 asked Pat. 
 
 ■ It's very badly used, Pat, but I think 
 it will recover. I'll send it off to be 
 doctored for you.' 
 
 ' Faith, thin, sur, I wish you'd lave off 
 talkin' ; it was Mrs. Machree herself who 
 towld me not to let ye say a word. Me 
 poor fiddle can't spaike any more, an' I'm 
 thinkin that a little less of it would be 
 better for yourself.'
 
 A NEW LOVE FOR AN OLD. 225 
 
 * I will not talk then, Pat ; now tell me 
 about your poor old fiddle.' 
 
 ' Well thin, sur, when you were brought 
 in I asked some one if ye were dead, an' 
 he said yes, that ye'd never breathe no 
 more. Thin I went an' sat down in yer 
 libreery an' cried. An' thinks I, faith, 
 there's Mr. Claverin' has suffered for m-:, 
 an' here am I alive an' well, an' mournin' 
 for him it's thrue, but that isn't enough. I 
 want to suffer with him too, an' how to do 
 it puzzled me, that it did. Thin I up wi' 
 my foot an' I put it through me old fiddle, 
 an' I said, there, I've killed the dearest 
 thing I have ; for the dearest thing I had 
 was killed for me. An it's mournin' still 
 I am for it ; there's one friend dead any- 
 how, but the other one's livin', after all, 
 has made up for it, an' more.' 
 
 Mr. Clavering was much touched at the 
 
 vol. 1. 15
 
 226 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 boy's idea of suffering with a friend ; what 
 Pat had said was but poorly expressed, yet 
 the fact remained ; a noble sentiment of 
 sympathy, a heart full of gratitude and 
 
 affection had prompted the action, which, 
 however senseless in itself, was a proof of 
 deep feeling, of a mind that could be 
 touched by the troubles of others. 
 
 ' I will have your fiddle mended for you, 
 Pat; I shall be all right again myself in a 
 little time,' said Mr. Clavering, cheerily, 
 ' and then you and I and the fiddle will 
 be as happy as we were before all this 
 happened.' 
 
 ' Plaise God an' the saints we may, sur,' 
 replied Pat simply. 
 
 As soon as Sir Patrick O'Moore re- 
 turned to Inchigeela, he called upon Mr. 
 Clavering. The news of the attempted 
 murder had reached him before he left
 
 A I JEW LOVE FOR AN OLD. 227 
 
 Dublin, and then he felt half inclined to 
 set off for Clonmore at once, but was 
 dissuaded from it by his wife, as being 
 unnecessary, and more than that, as being 
 impracticable, because there were two or 
 three invitations which Sir Patrick must 
 accept before he left the capital. 
 
 When Sir Patrick called upon his friend 
 at Clonmore, he was glad to find him on 
 the road to recovery. 
 
 1 In the wars again, Clavering, my boy ; 
 the Paddies seem determined to knock 
 your life out,' said Sir Patrick. ' What 
 was this row about ?' 
 
 ' Saving that boy's life, or next door to 
 it,' replied Mr. Clavering, nodding his 
 head towards Pat, who sat motionless over 
 in a corner of the room. 
 
 Sir Patrick's eyes wandered over to the 
 direction given. * That's Mike O'Leary's 
 
 15—2
 
 228 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 boy, isn't it ?' he asked softly. ' A beautiful 
 child, isn't he ? You heard about my poor 
 boy, didn't you, Clavering ?' 
 
 ' Yes, yes ; very sorry for you, O'Moore ; 
 quite sudden, wasn't it ?' asked Mr. Claver- 
 ing. 
 
 * Quite, poor child ! sad disappointment 
 to me, I can assure you,' said Sir Patrick, 
 sadly. 
 
 'You must feel it deeply, and Lady 
 O'Moore too,' remarked his friend. 
 
 ' She does feel it,' the baronet said, with 
 some hesitation ; 'but she is a woman, you 
 know, of strong character ; it takes a good 
 deal to upset her.' 
 
 ' I should think it does,' replied Mr. 
 Clavering, quietly. ' By the way, O'Moore, 
 ask Kathleen to come in to see me in the 
 morning ; I shall get up for a little to-
 
 A NEW LOVE FOR AN OLD. 229 
 
 morrow, and I have something to say to 
 her/ 
 
 * Certainly she shall come ; but what 
 have you to say, Clavering ?' 
 
 ' I have a letter to give her from Frank. 
 How is she ?' 
 
 1 Quite well. And Frank, where is he 
 now ?' asked Sir Patrick, a little con- 
 fusedly. 
 
 1 Gone abroad with his regiment ; haven't 
 had a line from him since he left his 
 country/ 
 
 ' Not had time yet, Clavering, perhaps, 
 There will be some stiff fighting in this 
 war, you'll see/ 
 
 ' I haven't the least doubt of it. Poor 
 Frank ! I daresay he thinks a great deal of 
 Kathleen ; pity she refused him, he was so 
 fond of her, eh, O' Moore ?' 
 
 6 Yes, but I don't think that matters are
 
 230 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 much better for the poor fellow now/ said 
 Sir Patrick, significantly. 
 
 ' How do you mean ?' asked Mr. Claver- 
 ing, eagerly. 'Surely Kathleen is not 
 engaged to be married !' 
 
 ' No, not quite, Clavering; but she'll tell 
 you all about it to-morrow. You ask her. 
 And now I'm off. Is there anything we 
 can do for you at Arbela ?' 
 
 ' No, thanks, O'Moore ; come in and see 
 me now and then.' 
 
 ' I will, to be sure. Good-bye ! But, I 
 say, Clavering, was that fellow O'Crotty 
 ever collared ?' 
 
 4 Never heard of or seen since ; got clean 
 away, I daresay, and is on his way to 
 America now, if he took the trouble to 
 leave the country. Well, I see you're off ; 
 don't forget about Kathleen,' said Mr. 
 Clavering.
 
 A NEW LOVE EOR AN OLD. 231 
 
 ' Xo ; she shall come to-morrow,' was the 
 reply, and Sir Patrick went away. 
 
 Mr. Clavering thought over what Sir 
 Patrick had said, and felt almost certain 
 that Kathleen had met some one in Dublin 
 who had taken the place which Frank 
 desired to fill in her heart. 
 
 He hoped, for his boy's sake, that he 
 might be wrong in his surmise, and he 
 anxiously awaited her arrival the next 
 morning. Kathleen came to Clonmore 
 about ten o'clock ; she had not paid a 
 visit there since Frank left, and this re- 
 minded her of him, and of the days which 
 were no more. She rather dreaded an 
 encounter with Mr. Clavering, she felt 
 nervous at the thought of having to tell 
 him all, and she wondered what the con- 
 tents of Frank's letter might be. That he 
 was constant to her, she felt certain ; and
 
 232 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 as for herself ? — well, she had never pro- 
 mised constancy to him ; or at ;my rate, if 
 she had, it was only conditional. 
 
 She found Mr. Clavering sitting in an 
 arm-chair at his window ; near to him sat 
 the most beautiful boy, so she thought, 
 that she had ever seen ; when she saw 
 that the child was blind, she knew that it 
 must be Pat O'Leary, whom she remem- 
 bered to have been defended by Mr. 
 Clavering against the attacks of her step- 
 mother. 
 
 'How do you do, Mr. Clavering?* 
 Kathleen asked. ' I am so glad that you 
 are able to sit up. How unfortunate, and 
 yet fortunate, you are !' 
 
 1 It is just that, Kathleen,' said Mr. 
 Clavering. ' I have had two very narrow 
 escapes ; had the bullet come a little nearer, 
 or the knife gone a little deeper, I might
 
 A NEW LOVE FOR AN OLD. 233 
 
 have been killed twice over. I have a 
 letter to give you, Kathleen, from Frank.' 
 
 * Papa told me so/ said she, lowering 
 her eyes. ' Is he well ?' 
 
 ' He was, when I last heard from him; 
 he is very fond of you, Kathleen/ said Mr. 
 Clavering, with emphasis, for he was fight- 
 ing a battle for his son. 
 
 1 He always told me so/ said Kathleen, 
 nervously. 
 
 1 And what did you say to that ?' asked 
 Frank's father, smiling. 
 
 1 I told him that I could not promise to 
 be his wife then ; that he must wait, and 
 when he came back I would say yes, 
 if ' 
 
 ' If what, Kathleen ?' 
 
 1 If I had not seen any one meantime 
 that I liked better than him/ said she. 
 
 1 Then I may write and tell him, may I
 
 254 THE OLD LOVE LS THE NEW. 
 
 not,' asked Mr. Clavering, anxiously, ( that 
 so far he holds the first place in your heart, 
 and that he may hope ? Do not trifle, 
 Kathleen ; Frank's love for you is very 
 great, and you have the power of making 
 him happy/ 
 
 1 You must not write as you say, Mr. 
 Clavering,' said Kathleen uneasily, ' because 
 it would not be true.' 
 
 1 How do you mean, Kathleen ?' 
 fc I mean that I have seen some one 
 whom I prefer to Frank, Mr. Claver- 
 ingf.' 
 
 * Are you sure of that ? Have you 
 promised to become his wife ?' 
 
 ' Not yet.' 
 
 * But you intend to promise, Kathleen ?' 
 
 1 I think so — in fact I am sure of it,' she 
 said, blushing at the confession. 
 '-And when?'
 
 A NEW LOVE FOR AN OLD. 235 
 
 'At the beginning of August, Mr. 
 Clavering.' 
 
 ' And if you change your mind before 
 then, if you find that you really do not 
 love the man, what will you do, Kath- 
 leen ?' 
 
 ' I will let you know, Mr. Clavering, 
 and then you may write to Frank that I 
 still like him more than any one else. 
 But it is not probable that I shall change 
 my mind. Hugh has made a great im- 
 pression upon me ; I like him, almost love 
 him, and I mean to become his wife/ 
 
 4 Ah! Kathleen, Kathleen!' sighed Mr. 
 Clavering, ' I'm afraid that you among 
 many others are like Spring, the young 
 maid who does not know her mind.' 
 
 1 I do know my mind, Mr. Clavering,' 
 said Kathleen apologetically ; ' but I cannot 
 say that I love a man until I really do.'
 
 236 THE OLD LOVE LS THE NEW. 
 
 * What is your idea of love, Kathleen ?' 
 
 'I scarcely know — something that 
 absorbs your whole being, I suppose/ 
 
 1 And does your liking, as you call 
 it, for your present lover do that, Kath- 
 leen ?' 
 
 ' I think a great deal of him ; he is 
 rarely out of my thoughts, and I am sure 
 that I should be perfectly happy with 
 him.' 
 
 1 Well, my dear girl, I'm sure I hope 
 that you may,' said Mr. Clavering kindly. 
 ' I am sorry, for my poor boy's sake, that 
 you have chosen as you have chosen ; but 
 at the same time I wish you, as he would 
 do, every happiness. But who is the 
 happy man ?' 
 
 'He is my stepmother's youngest 
 brother, and his name is Hugh,' said 
 Kathleen.
 
 A NEW LOVE FOR AN OLD. 237 
 
 'What was your stepmother's maiden 
 name ?' asked Mr. Clavering, who had no 
 doubt now of what his son had told him ; 
 namely, that Lady O'Moore had objections 
 to encouraging any intimacy between him- 
 self and Kathleen, for reasons of her own. 
 
 1 Unyan/ replied Kathleen innocently. 
 
 ' How do you spell it ?' asked Mr. 
 Clavering, to whose ears the name was 
 neither familiar nor well-sounding. 
 
 Kathleen spelt it for him. 
 
 ' I only hope that you may be happy as 
 Mrs. Unyan/ said Mr. Clavering, with a 
 touch of sarcasm in his voice. ' You 
 know nothing of Mr. Hugh's family, I 
 suppose, Kathleen ?' 
 
 1 Nothing, except that his father and 
 mother have been dead a long time, and 
 that I believe mamma and he were the 
 only children, Mr. Clavering. There are,
 
 238 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 I have heard, connections of the family in 
 Canada.' 
 
 ' Indeed,' said Mr. Clavering, with 
 feigned or real interest. ' Is your mother's 
 brother at all like his sister?' 
 
 ' Not at all,' said Kathleen, detaching a 
 locket from the chain round her neck ; 
 * here is his picture.' 
 
 ' A very fine-looking fellow indeed F 
 said Mr. Clavering, who was really struck 
 by the miniature. ' You certainly know 
 what good looks are, Kathleen,' he added, 
 returning the locket to her. ' What is his 
 profession ?' 
 
 1 A barrister, Mr. Clavering.' 
 
 1 Excuse my asking so many questions, 
 won't you, Kathleen ? I have known you 
 ever since you were born, and it is natural, 
 isn't it, that I should take an interest in 
 you, more especially as I have hoped all
 
 along to see you one day my son's wife. 
 Poor Frank ! Well, here is your letter, 
 my dear girl ; read it carefully, and if you 
 do not really know your mind about 
 marrying Mr. Hugh Unyan, do not con- 
 sent hastily, Kathleen,' continued Mr. 
 Clavering, earnestly. ' I do want you to 
 think seriously about this matter ; I am 
 not pleading for my son — I would not 
 really wish him to marry anyone who did 
 not sincerely love him. Remember, you are 
 not choosing a new dress or a new hat ; • 
 your choice now must be one for life, and 
 for your own sake reflect, my dear girl, 
 reflect. I want to ask you one question, 
 and you will answer me truthfully ; is this 
 match to be made of your own free will, or 
 have you been induced or persuaded to 
 make it by your stepmother ?' 
 
 ' It is of my own free will, Mr. Claver-
 
 240 THE OLD LOVE IS THE NEW. 
 
 ing ; no one could compel me to marry a 
 
 man. I took a fancy to Hugh the first 
 
 time I saw him.' 
 
 ' I believe you, Kathleen ; but I will tell 
 
 you one thing : you are fulfilling the very 
 
 part which your stepmother intended you 
 
 to play.' 
 
 Kathleen did not reply to this. 
 
 As she was going away she said : c If I 
 
 decide not to marry Hugh, Mr. Clavering, 
 I will let you know, and then you may 
 write and tell Frank that I am constant 
 
 to him.' 
 
 ' Do so,' replied Mr. Clavering. He 
 did not like this light trifling spirit which 
 Kathleen displayed ; he would not choose 
 her now as a wife for his son, that is to say, 
 so far as her disposition went ; but she was 
 his boy's choice. Frank was entirely de- 
 voted to her ; he had said that he would
 
 A NEW LOVE FOR AN OLD. 241 
 
 never marry anyone but Kathleen O'Moore; 
 and though, as a father, Mr. Claveringhad 
 assured his son that he would find some 
 one more to his taste, yet in his heart of 
 hearts he knew that Frank never would. 
 
 END of vol. 1. 
 
 BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD, SURREY.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOI9-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 056547158