Complete Story. The Master of Ballyoshane.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXI, Issue XVIII, 31 October 1903, Page 11

Complete Story. The Master of Ballyoshane.

Doric. Overhead a gorgeous red suneet was fast fading to the slate-grey of Bight. A glassy sea lapped lazily to the edge of the beach, ever receding, ever creeping a little nearer, nearer. A seagull whistled mournfully as it winged its way into the beyond. lights were beginning to twinkle here and there along the Wicklow eoast, and a solitary figure rose from the shingle with a regretful sigh. “Three whole cays gone!” said Joan Blount, Englishwoman, art student, and holiday-maker, as she moved across the stony foreshore to the road. ■With a final, lingering, backward glance at the sea. she crossed a deserted railway-line and set her face towards winding. shady ways and green country. There were no terrors in the lonely walk before her. Already it seemed that a friendly understanding existed between the bright-haired F.ngH-h girl—who lodged “wid Mrs Kelly beyant”— and the simple-natured inhabitants of the scattered thatched cottages comprising the village of Bally oshane. Uneonsriouriy the girl slackened speed as she approached the shabby iron gates of the one “big house” of the neighbourhood. Through the dense surrounding foliage she caught a glimpse c-f weather-beaten, yellow walls and shuttered windows. The owner, then, was still absent. Jean had heard much during her three days in Ballyoshane of “Mssther Michael.'’ and had been told that he was in Dublin. Somehow the old place and the unknown young master had a curious interest for her. She weaved romances anent the fallen fortunes of the head of the O'Shanes, delighting in her conception of picturesque poverty, peculiarly a feature, in Saxon eyes, of Erin’s sens. Her holiday, charming as it was, would not be quite complete without an encounter with Michael O’Shane, she thought, without an exploraticu of his ramtling old home. A shuS-ing footstep and a hoarse cough broke in upon her reverie. From the shadow of the gates a war emerged cautiously, and laid a hand upon her ara. The girl flinched mcmentarilv. 'Don’t let me frighten you,” he panted. "I hare been watching for somebody. and—and —-—” His voice died away into a murmur *- he removed his hand from her ana and fell back against the gate. Joan’s pity was instantly aroused. This was no tramp, but a cultured gentleman, she swiftly decided. For a space the pair stood motionless. The man — he was little more than a lad—was clearly eadeaveuxing to regain control ef himseH. Through the gloom she regarded uncertainly the wasted outline of hrs features and slight, trembling form, dad in a plain suit of grey tweed. /’You are ill!” she Interrogated gently. “Indeed, I am only anxious to help you ! ” 'Thank Heaven!” he muttered. “Yes; I have been ill—very ill—a long time •go.” He passed his hand across his brow as he talked disjointecly. staring wildly into the shadows.

“But I can’t stand it any longer! I don’t care what he says! I meant to go myself; but it is a long way, and I am weak—you can go for me.”* here ean I got” mystified Joan asked. “Why, to the police barrack!” he cried with sudden energy. ‘“To tell them that —that—to send them for me* Quick! He may miss me at any moment, and take me back again! I escaped, yon know, when he thought I was asleep! I was coo c-unuing for him!” Joan shrank baek, horror-stricken. For a moment the thought rtasbed upon her that she was interviewing an escaped lunatic. “But why must I go to the police barrack !” she faltered. “You Know —the man who disappeared! It must hare been in all the newspapers! And I won’t put up with it! Hush! He will be angry when he finds that I am gone! Never let him know that you helped me! He would be furious!” The wild, husky voice sank to a whisper. “Who was this mysterious “neb” The perpetrator of some bold crime, she was sure. M hat disclosures would follow her visit the police barrack? That her companion had been confined against his will, and had now escaped, she gathered vaguely. The police barrack was a mile beyond the cottage where she lodged, and she was making a rapid calculation as to hew speedily she eouldget there, when a third form loomed up. “It is he!” Joan’s new acquaintance gasped. The girl thrilled with the dramatic horror of the moment. The new-comer seemed to be a well set-up, distinguished looking man, wearing rough shooting clothes. He looked from cue to the other in a brief silence, outwardly cool and collected; but Joan noted the extreme pallor of bis handsome face, and when he spoke his voice shook. “Ah, what a foolish lad you are!” he said, with an affectionate touch upon the younger man’s shoulder. “You should not venture out until you are stronger. Come tack with me now. I am sure you have quite startled this young lady.” Jean looked a hot remonstrance, but the other merely acquiesced sullenly, seeming even glad of the support he accepted. “Yes. yes, I shall return with you!” he said, hurriedly. As they passed up the avenue together Joan sped onwards. She decided to go at once to the police barrack, as she had been requested to do. n. So deeply engrossed was she in thought that she did not hear a footstep behind her, and the sound of a quiet voice in her ear was her first intimation that she was not alone. The girl wheeled round, at bay, and confronted the gaoler of the man she had determined to rescue. A pair of keen

blue eyes searched ter face, resc her in most thoughts. “Who are you!” she murmured faintly. Tie man lifted his cap. “I am Michael O'Shane,” he answered simply. “You are the English lady who is staying at Mrs Kelly’s cottage. ’ Pardon me for overtaking yon, but I must have speech with you—” He paused as though at a less for words to continue. Joan stood silent, embarrassed. So this was Michael CfShanee! She was surprised to find her fadignaticn ebbing; that in spite of herself her companion impressed her favourably, with his grave, eunburnt face and pleasant tones. “I am extremely sorry that Fate should have forced you into any connection with this affair,” he went on presently. “Your presence in the road way just then was an unfortunate accident, and Heaven knows what the consequences may be!” he finished, half to himself. A shadow of sadness fell across his face, a groan broke from him. Then, rousing himself, unconscious of hss action. he imprisoned her slender hands in both his own. “What do you know i” he demanded, abruptly. Joan's eyes were lifted courageously to his. ‘I know that you detain a man against his will for a purpose of your own: that he escaped this evening, only to be brought hack again by you, whom he fears that he is in some erue! strait from which I may be able to release him!” She eried boldly. “That is all?” She thought that she heard a sigh of relief. “And now you intend giving information of my—my guest at the police barrack?” “You will not do anvthins of the kind.” “You cannot prevent me!” “Nob” He laughed. “You are a free agent, and yet — Tell me one thing. You meet me in damaging circumstances, you believe me to be a criminal at present; but. withal, don't you feel that I should inspire you with confidence, if it were not for the knowledge you have gained—that you could trust me!” The girl was yet unable to resist him. “Under any other circumstances I should have trusted you.” she con -eded slowly. “Then will you go a step further, and trust me now! I want your promise that you will remain silent about this evening’s work until I give you leave to speak. I cannot tell you all; hut I believe myself to be in the right, and I ask you to believe me, too. Will you “No. no! It would be horrible of me! And. oh. why should I trust you!” Joan cried wildly. “Neverthless, I think you will.’’ he answered. “listen! Your information will not benefit this mam end no harm will come to him in Ballyoshane. I swear. Whereas, if his preseaca is discovered now, rum and destruction follow. I have told yon all that I dare. You are quite at liberty to seek the police with your story, but my honour is in your hands- I am going to see you back to Mrs Kelly’s now. and you can make up your mind as we go ” It was like a troubled dream to Joan as they paced along the qtrfet road in the August night between the fragrant hedgerows, her hand resting meekly up-

on the arms of this autTforltatnre, mysterious criminal, who proved to be her hero- Michael O’Shane, too. 'When they reached Mrs Kelly's cottage he spoke again—gently, persuasively. “You will be silent!” Joan heard herself saying, “I will.” And then O’Shane, with a whisper of gratitude, raised her fingers to his lipa. “You brave little girl!” he said wenderingly. “You will never repent of your clemency!” A moment later Joan was standing alone, her brain whirling with the excitement of her adventure. Of a truth Irishmen were every bit as daring and impulsive as they were said to be! The following morning Mrs Kellv walked into her lodger’s room. and laid a packet in her hands. “A letther which Master Michael gev me himself!” she announced importjoin had passed a wakeful night. Mil ~i*. t- >h r.e’s blue eyes and saddened tare the in?;-trion of his voice as he ‘.liaukei :.er, refused to be banished from her mind. The words he bad used to bend her to his will still rang in her hearing: "I b-Sieve myself to be in the rig!.:, and I want you to believe in me, too.” Trembling, she broke the sea’ now and read: "Thank Heaven, all’s well that ends well, and I am able to reward your trust by a full confe--k>n. My • =oner’ is a grea: friend, who was i- , with me. believimr he had ki? at Bailydogan Fair. He fell oi raging fever, cnl I was . i-o frustrate his desire to give him-elf up to justice. In my temporary ab-enee he escaped yesterday as you know - , and sought your ailWhen I got him baek to the hostse he had already regr- ‘ed his rash step, and was it: tenor or Icing arrested. Had you ; l is bidding. I am sure that the coming c f the police nd their investigation world have killed him. And this morning *.r? have news that the man he sup;~«seJ dead is alive, and progressing towards recoverv. My friend I am happy to say, is mending rapidly. I thought to remove the han of sdcrice imposed upon you when I had contrived to ship him to America, but the burden has Ken taken from — Always your grateful friend. ■'Afichael O’Shane.” Mrs Kelly’s English lodger soon attained her wish of exploring the “big house.” and th? grounds thereof, the master waking a very capable cicerone. That her holiday was thus perfected, there is no doubt. Furtherore. when it came to an end. the friends she had made in Ballyoshane were comforted at parting by the sly communication of “Mastier Michael” that her absence would be but a matter of months as be was going to fetch her back to them himself!