CHAPTER XIV.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXI, Issue 9, 16 December 1892, Page 25

CHAPTER XIV.

The words " That lad o' mine " roused Julia Flynn out of a reverie into which she had fallen over her needlework, as she sat by the window with her eyes fixed upon Joe Cooney 's bunch of lilac. She started up, twisting her abundant brown hair hastily into a fold down the back of her ntck, that an artist would have admired, and tying a red ribbon round her tbroat before the little looking-glass that hang in the midst of half-a-dozen pictures about its own Bize on tbe wall at the right-band side of the window ; her boarded bedstead, papered with newspapers, occupying the other side. Julia took a look at her profile, right and left, in the little looking-glass, glanced at her shoes and Btockings to see tbat they were tidy ; threw her light blue cloak over her shoulders, and seizing tbe little can from the Btilling in tbe kitchen, hurried through the workshop to the street door. She need not have been in such a flurry, however, for Davey Lacey was at his post earlier tban usual, and the little brown cow would not be on the lookout for her till nearly an hour later. Davy took bis eyes from the poplar tree and opened the half-door for her. But Julia drew back for a moment till Father Feehan and Mr Bobert O'Keeffe, who were driving down the street, had passed. Then Jolia Flynn tripped on to milk the little brown cow, looking brighter and fresher and happier every step of the way. The breeze was cool and fragrant* The sky was clear and cloudless. Only the dome of the mountain was blue — all the rest, down to Martin Dwyer's orchard, being quite distinct. The two oblong fields, like an open green book laid back upward against the grown hillside up near the summit of the first range, Julia knew, belonged to Con Cooney. She knew tbat witty and clever sheriff's officer, Murty Magrath, remarked one day while standing at the door of her father's workshop, that no matter bow poor old Joe Cooney might be, he was every year getting up in the world ; and tbat however slovenly his system of cultivating his land, no one could deny but that it was " high farming." Julia Flynn '» violet eyes often wandeted to that lonely-looking home among the heather, while milking th« little brown cow morning and evening. It would be pleasant, she used to think, to live up there, and milk little cows in those green fields, the boundaries of which were so wonderfully straight and regular. But she always said to herself that she would never leave her father unless Charlie came home and married a good wife to take her place. Charlie could not rest if he did not first see the world, Why, even his father had the Queen's County to talk about ; and how could he be contented unless he knew something of what was going on beyond these bills that seemed to shut out tbe busy world on every side from Sbannaclonght But Charlie always said bed come borne, and work cheerfully witfc his> father after a few years. He was a bright-eyed, manly little fellow —as Body Flynn's son had every right to be— when be went away.. Now he was a bearded man, with a rather stern expression in bis face — which was quite out of place in the the face of his father's son—if the photograph which Julia always carried in her bosom was to be' believed. Julia's heart leaped as she imagined Charlie coming to spend Sunday witb them — yes, with her and Con Cooney — in that lonely home among the heather. This vision had often presented itself to Julia Flynn, only to bring a flush to her cheek and brighter light into her eyes. But this evening, for some reason or other, tbe thought of Charlie— good-humoured, bright-eyed, manly little Charlie paying that Sunday visit to the mountain, brought the tears to her eyes ; and Julia, standing by tbe side of the little brown cow, bent her head, and covering; her face with her hands, let the tears have their way, Julia wondered at herself. These fancies bad never even taken the shape of hopes. And even if they had, nothing had happened to make their realisation less likely than it had ever been. Tet she never had been so morbid before.

" God send it is not anything that has happened to Charlie," Mid Julia, with a deep sigh that came very near being a sob. Bat Julia might have found the real cause of her emotion in tbe look that met hers while she untied the string that fastened Con Oooney's coat a few hours before. She never asked herself what that look meant, nor even consciously thought about it at all ; yet that sorrowful look

in Con Oooney 's eyes was tbs true cause of those unbidden tears that so surprised and even alarmed her.

Subduing her emotion by an effort, she commenced milking the little brown cow, keeping her eyes resolutely turned away from the mountain, and trying to find ia nearer objects occupation for her thoughts. The primroses were perfectly bewildering in their countlessness. The grass in the meadow portion of the field was becoming high enough to undulate here and there in the soft evening breeze And there was the first " May bush " she tad that year seen in fu'l bloom in the corner where the blackbirds were wont to build. Now, if she could reach to that snowy bough, she'd yull a branch and bring it home to keep company with the lilac. Poor Joe I what a good poor fellow he was 1 For a moment there was a laugh in Julia's eye ; but suddenly she became very grave. Was there the least danger that Jo« Oooney might have misunderstood her ? He had not the remotest suspicion that his brother Con bad even thought of her. And possibly her manner towards him, as Oon's brother, might have had a meaning in his eyes very different from what she intended.

" Bnt what right have I to think that anyone at all cares about me P said Julia to herself as the spirting of the milk into the pail began to fail. " Even Con never told me bt cared for me in plain words, I really fear lam very vain. Here is Mr Jim Foley at the gate with his arms folded, thinking himself the finest and the handsomest and the richest man in Ireland — that all the young ladies art dying about— and I declare I believe I have not a doubt in my mind but it was for nothing else but to be home with me he has walked out this evening. 'Pon my word, Julia Flyno, you're as great a fool yourself as Jim Foley, except that you don't let all the world know it Come, poor Bosheen, I mast pull up the stake and move you to where you can gat a mouthful. You have this spot as bare as the palm of my hand. How good and quiet and patient you are I I'd be sorry to part with you, poor Bosheen. Ah 1 1 believe even if I was np there where my heart is, 'tis often I'd look down and think of you here by yourself, poor little old darling I I wonder will I ever again hear poor Charlie repaatiog that poem about the ' Woman of Three Cows.' 'Twas better than a play to listen to him. There used to be such a roar when he'd come to—' I'd whack you well to cure your pride, great woman of three cows.' Ah, not one of 'em like Charlie i If Con Oooney had his spirit he'd be the finest fellow from this to himself— l'm not 6uch a fool as not to see the difference between them. Bat for all that I believe I couldn't like Con better than I do, no matter what he might be."

Julia drove the iron pin into the ground with a few vigorous and well-aimed strokes of a rude mallet, always left ia the field for the purpose— having just allowed the little brown cow to drink from a pool in the dyke, which only ran dry for a few weeks in the middle of the summer. Then taking up her pail she tripped back to the gate with her usual springy step, biting her lip and dropping her eyelids, to keep herself from laughing outright at the affected attitude of Jim Foley, who was standing upon the road, so that all passers-by might admire the symmetry and strength of his limbs, and go on their way rejoicing. (To be continued")