FOR THE OLD LAND.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXI, Issue 20, 3 March 1893, Page 21

FOR THE OLD LAND.

CHAPTKR XXII. {Continued)

By Chables J. Kickham.

Mrs Dwyer did the paddling very carefully and softly, moving the short stick round and round and backward and forward through the thick fluid to the admiration of Cauth Manogue, who looked on smilingly with her hands clasped behind her back. "Good Gracious 1 " exclaimed Mrs Dwyer, with a start, and standing upright, '• 'twas well he didn't jump into my face." A broad grin of delight upon Cauth's broad face, as she looked towards the gate and saw the white greyhound gambolling and bounding round and round Miss Alice Cormack, made Oauth'a mistress turn her bead to see what it was all about. And the moment she caught sight of the two young ladies, Mrs Dwyer flang the short stick out of her band, and made for the kitchen door, as if she were running from an enemy from whom no quarter was to be expected.

" What ia it 7 " Nannie and Nellie asked on seeing their mother's frightened face. Bat Mrs Dwyer bad not breath left to reply. She harried iato her bedroom, and holding her face down to tbe lookingglass, looked earnestly, but doubtfully, at the reflection therein, as if eh« had serious misgivings regarding her own identity. Hurriedly untying the strings of her cap and pushing back her hair, a careful scrutiny of the left jaw seemed to convince her that she really was herself after all. Then Mrs Dwyer re-tied the string in a becoming bow-knot, and pressed her open hands upon the cap all round, as if to ■tick it to her head— taking particular pains with the portion that covered her ears. And, having let the ends of her shawl— which were knotted behind her back— drop down gracefully in front, Mrs Dwyer came out to greet her visitors with an air of quiet dignity, which contrasted so strikingly with the frightened look and the ra-36 through the yard, that Alica had to laugh outright while shaking hands, managiag, however, to pat the blame of this untimely mirth upon Nannie and Nellie, who were both clinging round her waist. Martin Dwyer, toj, hnrried in from the kitchen-garden, where the late cabbage planting was proceeding, to welcome Alice in the Bimple friendly way she much liked ; asking her, " How were they all in the convent," and " was the old gardener alive still," and divers similar questions which Alice replied to in a manner that might be described as seriously cheerful . " We're going up as far as the Bock, Mrs Dwyer," said Alice, when Martin, declaring that he " must be off," bad gone back to bis cabbage planting ; " and will you allow Nannie and Nellie to come with as ? Mamma also desired us to bring them over when we are coming back. She seldom sees them now except on Sundays, she says."

" Why not 1 Of course they can go," was the reply, accompanied by a look of beaming delight. " But," added Mrs Dwyer, suddenly becoming severely dignified, " I make them go to school regularly, and they must study their lessons every evening." While Nannie and Nellie ran for their hats in a state of excitement which the occasion scarcely warranted, Tom made his appearance and shook Alice by the band in a careless sort of way, remarking that he would have called to see her, but " something or other " prevented him. He was now in a great hurry about " something or other," but hoped to be able to run over " to-morrow or after." Alice remarked to her sister, as they toiled up through the ferns, that she had never seen Tom Dwyer looking so well, "That grey suit becomes him," returned Margaret. " I wanted Robert to get one like it. I'm tired of seeing him always in a black coat and leather gloves." 'He knows better than that," said Alice. "If he had that grey suit on — which, by the by, is quite worn at the elbows — he'd look like a little stable boy.'* " Really, Alice 1 " " Oh, don't be offended," Alice went on. " Bur some men are nothing if not exquisite ; and Mr O'Keeffe is '.me of them." " You have no taste," said Margaret, throwing her long golden carls back over her shoulders, aad turning round, partly to take a look at the green expanses bulow, and partly to take breath. Alice turned round, too, and so did Nannie and Nellie. It is not every day such a group is to be met with even on an Irish hillside, and, as if to give the finishing touch to the picture, the white greyhound put himself into the very pUce and posture that a painter would bave put him. " How qaiet and beautiful it is," said Alice. " I'd never be tired of it — never wish to leave it,"

" That's what I always think when I see people going to America," returned Nannie. '• I wonder tbeir hearts don't break." '■ Bat they can't help going," said Nellie. " I think some of them could," returned her sister, putting her arm into Alice's, as if she felt the need of support. " I have a great fear sometimes, since I heari them talking about the landlords, one day that Bill Keerawan was within. And I never felc the fear so strong as I do now," Nannie aided tearfully, and beginning to tremble. Alice looked at her little frien 1 in surprise, and drawing her close to her, bent down and imprintad a kisa upon her smooth, soft cheek. " You are very sensi ive, Nannie," she said. " I always noticed that ; but I think you are strong too. Your auit and I oftjn talked about you and Nellie. She is greatly pleased to see by your letters that you are so much improved during the p^st year. " It is because we went to scuool regularly, and kept our place in the class," said Nellie, who seemed to take things lightly. " It is too far to the Brown Rack," Margaret remarked, looking up tha hill. " I'll ait down here till ye come back " Mies Cormack was not so fond of walking as she used to be. AHer mother had observed this with concern, and the little excursion to the Brown Bock was suggested principally to induce Margaret to go out into the open air. But Mrs Dwyer was heard to remark approvingly, that Margaret was becomiag a sensible girl, as she was scarcely ever seen " marching " up and down by the river now. Mrs Dwyer "always liked to see girls becoming sensible and inc'ustrious,"

Margaret was quite taken by surprise when her three companions came upon her with a rush and flung themselves upon the ferns beside her, panting for breath after their race down the hill, in which Alice had " come to grief " no less thao three different times, to the infinite delight of Nellie and Nannie, who were as sure-footed on the steep and rugged mountain-side as any pair of young goats in Kerry or elsewhere, that ever disturbed tbe equanimity of Sab-Constable Joe Sprcul. " Oh," exclaimed Margaret, " you did not go up to the Bock." " Yes," Alice replied, panting for breath, " and rested for awhile under it. I'm fairly killed trying to keep up with these fairies. And they are not a bit tired." " I really did not feel the time passing," said Margaret, who looked refreshed ani invigorated by the coal breeze. " I'd l'ke to stay here for hours yet." Bjth Nannie and Nellie noticed that Margaret did not look a bit " haughty " to-day, and that she " had not tbe least sign of a nose on her." " Tis very pleasant," returned Alice, fanning her face with her broad straw hat. " How ungallant Tom has become. Tbere he is lounging through the field iusteal of escorting as up the hill, as he always used. He seems to have lo9t all his politeness. But who ia that riding down the avenue?" Alice asked, shading her eyes with her hand. " I was going to bring the field-glass, but forgot it." Margaret looked up with a start. " I thought it was Mr Cormack," said Nellie. " Bat here he ii coming round the turn of the road." " It is Father Feehan," said Nannie, as the horseman dismounted at the glass porch, " Oh, let as go," exclaimed Alice, excitedly. " I suppose be hai come to sea me." " You need not be in such a hurry," returned his sister. "H8 won't run away." " I have a mind to rnn straight down and get over the river,' 1 said Alice. *' But I'd be afraid he might see me and say Iwu crazy." "So you are," returned Margaret laughing. "Mr Armstrong has a great deal to answer for. You say everybody is thinking of you. Now, I'd venture to bet that Father Feehan does not even know that you have coma home."

Alice resumed her seat upon i he ferns with a conscious blush. It did look like presumption to assume that Father Foehan had come specially to see her. But though tbe words had escaped her lips, her onJy feeling while she uttered them was a great longing to be near Father Feehan— to get the light but kindly pressure of his hand, to hear his low sweet voice, and to look into his smooth, ruddy, handsome face, beaming, as ehe believed it always did, with loving kindnet's for all the world. Taere were people who, tj basure, said of Father Feehan that there was " nothing soft about him but bis face. 1 ' But Alice could see nothing but softness and sweetness iv the parish priest of Shannaclough, who, to her mind, was simply perfection in every way. She curbed her impatience, however, and accommodated her pace to her sister's as th^y slowly duscenied to the foot of the hill. Margaret objected to the path to the bridge through the long meadow ; and Alice, who was prone to consult other people's wishee, turned from the wooden gate aad proceeded along the road, observing, as Bhe re-closed the gate, that her father had dismounted from tbe little black cob in the middle of the avenue and lifceJ little Eddy into tbe saddle. Margaret took It into her h Q ad to delay an unconscionably long time upon the bridge ; ami, iostead of going straight to the house from the avenue gate, nothing would suit her but to cross the river, and "march" on by the bezels, as if she was wistfu'ly beat upon returning to her old ways and lo&iog the good opinion of Mrs Dwyer. Alice patted the Lead of the white greyhound, and tried to talk cheerfully to Nannie and Nellie ; but looking wis 1 fully all the time towards the drawing-room windows, and feeling annoyed in spite of herself at her sister's waywardness. At length Miss Cormack bent her steps towards the house ; but before they had got half the way Father Faehan was seen leading his horse by the bridle along the winding avenue ; and it at once struck Alice as strange that her father did not accompany him, as was his wont, to the gate. " Walk fahter, Margaret," she said. "I think he does not see us." Margaret did quicken her puce ; but the priest kept on his way without seeming to notice them. He was passing the nearest point of the avenue to them when Alice started off at a run to meet him, under the impression th it he did not see them. But suddenly she stood still, as if a bullet bad struck her. Father Feehan passed f looked straight in her face with knitted brows, and passed on. Alice's lips parted, and with a bewildered look she gazid after the priest as he walked slowly towards the gate, keeping his eyes fixed upon, the ground. '• What is it?" Alice asked in a terrified whisper, turning to her sister, who hud just come up to where ohe was standing. "I can't imagine," Margaret rep iad, looking frightened aIBO. " Might it be anything about " She checked herself on observing that Nellie's daik eyes were fixed wonderfully upon her fa.cc,

"Oh, Alice," said Nannia, her blue eyes filling with tears, "don't look so frightened. If you saw how white your face is." " Let as go in and ask what has happened," said Margaret with a frown. "II somethiog has annoyed him that's no reason why he should treat vi ifejoch a way." "Oh, mamma," exclaimed Alice, bursting into the drawingroom, « What has happened ? Why would not Father Feeban speak to me;" Mrs, Cormack compressed her lips and cast her eyes upon the carpet, While her husband started up from his chair and commenced walking up and down the room rubbing his chin bard, as if it had suddenly become intolerably itchy. Alice was looking in mute bewilderment from one to the other, when Margaret, who .had waited to hang up her straw hat in the hall, entered the room, and with affected indifference asked :—: — " Well, what is it all about ?" " Nothing of any great consequence," replied the mother, " so far as I can see. Come in," she added, smiling, and beckoning with her finger to Nannie and Nellie who remained outside the door in doubt as to whether they ought to follow Alice and Margaret into the drawing-room. " But what is it, mamma ?" Alice asked, eppealingly. " Only a young gentleman that wants to become a Member of Parliament," returned her mother, " and your father won't vote for him." " Oh, and won't Father Feehan be friends with us any more ? " Alice asked, piteously. " He's just after saying that he'd never put bis foot inside tte door of this house again," returned her mother, " 'Tis simply disgusting," eaid Margaret, scornfully. But Alice dropped into a chair, and, with her arms resting on the table, covered her face with her hands, feeliog utterly miserable. Nellie Baid to Nannie, on their way home in the evening, that it was the first dull evening they had ever spent at Mrs Cormack's. " Because," returned Nannie, " Mr Cormack is going to vote against the priest." " It ia easy to see," said Nellie, " that he is very uneasy and unhappy." "I felt something hanging over me all this day," Nannie remarked, as they stood for a moment on the bridge. " Do you remember how miferable and heart-broken your father was last year when he thought there was going to be an election ? " " Yes," Nellie replied, " because he was going against the landlord." '■ So whatever way people go," rejoined Nannie, " they are miserable and unhappy. I wish there were no elections in Ireland at all." " Oh, Nellie," whispered Nannie, just as the old clock in the parlour had struck one, " do you bear poor father moaning in his sleep?" " Yee," returned Nellie, " but I don't think he's asleep. I'm listening to him since the clock struck twelve." Nellie was right. Martin Dwyer never closed an eye that night. Neither did his prosperous neighbour, Ned Cormack. Neither did a single individual of that little crowd of tenant farmers we saw shivering under the leafless tree in Mr Percy Penington's lawn some day in the month of December — ?xcepting only Con Oooney, who lived too far up the mountain to have learned until next day tbat a special despatch had come to the parish priest of Sbannacloagh from the Hon Horatio O'Mulligan, commencing with the ominous and startling words, " The crisis is upon us." QTo be continued.')

A detachment of soldiers were told off to take charge of| young Tom, now Father, Sherman while crossing the pontoon bridge across the Potomac when the armies of the country were coming to Washington to take part in the great review there ia 1865. He was then •bout eight years old. One of the men asked him if he expected to grow up as smart a man as bis father, the General, and he promptly answered :—" No I" "Why?" was the next question. " Well," he replied, with the same readiness, •• there are plenty other men who have grown op, and why ain't they as smart as my father ?"— Philadelphia Times.