CHAPTER XXXIII.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXI, Issue 8, 23 June 1893, Page 25

CHAPTER XXXIII.

The " suspicious strangers " had all disappeared, like the swallow s (some thought to re-appear lika the swallows), with tbe exception of a few— of whom, we are happy to say, Tom Dwyer was not one — who remained behind to hibernate in gloomy plans, and peace and quietnesj nigned from md to end of the parish of Shanaclongh.

" I am very anxious to know who is to be our landlord," said Mrs Cormack.

"Sc am I, " replied her husb^u^, who seemed to have regained some of his old energy, '' I'm glad that fellow who wanted a residenoe was outbid, though he went very high."

" I declare," Alice remarked, " I am feeling quite nervous about it. I'm always thinking of poor little Nannie and Nellie, and their misery and aDguish when they were going away. I feel something like it myee f now."

Her father's face twitched, while her mother laid her work upon ber knees, and looked wistfully through tha window at the old ivycovered farm-house.

" Here is Mr Armstrong," Alice continued. " Perhaps he can tell us something."

"We were ju9t talking about the property," said Mrs Cormack , when Mr Armstrong had entered the room, having just left his fish-ing-rod and basket in tbe glass porch among tbe geraniums. " Who can it be for whom the purchase was made in trust ? "

" Well," Mr Armstrong replied, looking a little embarassed, and and even troubled, " there'd no use in makinga mystsry of it. lam the purchaser." All three rose from their chairs in Bheer astonishment. " And you are our landlord ? " said Alice, her eyes sparkling with pleasure and wondpr.

"Yes, Alice," he replied— but sadly — " lam your father, s landlord, and Con CoonejV he added, glancing up the mountain to the two fields that Julia Flynn compared to an open book laid upon the brown heather.

" Shake hands, old friend," said Ned Cormack. " The first rent I ever paid was to your father. He was a fair agent, and we were always good friends. And," added Ned Cormack significantly, as after a pause, " he approved of long leases."

"So do I," the old angler replied. " But the truth might as well be told first as last. You must give me up Martin Dwyer's farm."

■' What I "' Ned Cormack exclaimed, looking quite blank, "is it after all the money I lost by it ? "

" You lost money in other ways," returned Mr Armstrong mildly.

"That's true," Ned Cormack replied with a frown, "I don't know what came over me to be such a fool ; only for O'Keeffe I'd be a rich man to-day. But it is a fine thing," he added, with a spice of his old sarcasm, " to be the father-in-law of a.J.P,

BOILBR-

NIOET.

" Yon're a rich man still," said Mr Armstrong : and yon won't be much less rich when you give op Oorriglea ; and I'll giva you as long a lease as you wish of yoor own farm."

"Do you 'mean to work the farm yourself ? " Ned Cormack asked.

"No,', Ambrose Armstrong replied, in a loader and firmer voice than he had yet spoken in. 4< I mean to have our old school-fellow, Mwtin Dwyer, home again in Corriglea.

44 Edward," said Mrs Cormack, laying her band upon her hußband's arm, "we have never been happy since we got the place. I have often wished to see them back again ; and how glad Mrs Bernard will be." 14 Do you tbiok would Tom come home 1 " Ned Oormack asked.

"Yea, of course I expect he will," said Mr Armstrong.

41 I always liked Tom Dwyer," Ned Cormack went on, as if he had not heard the reply to his question. " I was always lonesome after Tom Dwyer. I think," he added, "if I had him to talk to me and go about the farm I'd be less lonely than I am. I thought I'd never again care for anything ; but I have to some extent shaken off that feeling. And I'd certainly like to have Tom Dwyer for a neighbour again."

" I'm truly glad," said Mr Armstrong, " that you are in that frame of mind. I was afraid tbat pressure should be pat upon yon."

11 And woald yon eject me ? " Ned Cormack asked, looking into the old angler's mild pale face.

41 Certainly, yes," waß the reply. " I could not do it for myself I never could do anything for myself. I nevei could do anything for myself. Bat I'd have the sheriff opon yon soon enough for the sake of the poor exiles far away."

"Yon are a good man," said Ned Cormack, with more softness in his look and tone than his wife bad ever before observed. " You'd make all the world happy if you could."

How happy Alice looked. She'd like to fling her arms round her father's neck and kiss him, It was not because she saw a likelihood of Tom Dwyer's return. At the moment she scarcely thought of that at all. Her intense gladness arose from discovering that her father oared so much for Tom Dwyer.

And as for that dear, handsome old gentleman with the silvery hair — Alice positively believed that ehe'd rather marry him, there and then than any other man living — except one.

" Well, I'm eff to the river now," said the old angler. " I could not fish in peace and quietness till I bad fonnd oot how we were likely to get on as landlord and tenant. Lord ! what a beautiful bouse it is, and how handsome the lawn looks 1 And such a nice view of Corriglea Bridge I And so near the river I For heaven's sake, get your lease prepared ai fast as ever you can. The temptation is too great for poor human nature to resist it,"

There was great laughing at this sally, and the old gentleman harried off to enjoy his favourite amusement in peace and quietness.

"He could do it," said Ned Cormack. "He could rob me if he wished. And I can't see how this Land Bill could save me, even if it becomes law."

Another peep into the little room in Brooklyn, N.Y., Martin Dwyer, looking as patient and caieworn, and withal good-humoured M ever, has laid the big key on (he chimney-piece, and opened his newspaper (or a quiet read in the rocking chair. Nannie and Nellie are wavering between a walk in the open air and the attraction of a story which Nellie's " pet nun " had sent tbem, Baying that she sent the well-thumbad copy from the conveut library inßtead of the new one she had got specially for them " because," ihe gentle Bister of Meicy wrote, " I thought you'd like a bo k that had b**en in almost every house within view of your old home, and had been read by every one of your old school compaoims."

While Nannie paused with her fingers between the leaves, and Nellie swong her bat backward and forward irresolutely, a loud cry, Which, for want of a better word, we must call a yell, was heard from the hall dowc-Btairs. To be Bure, this was only Cauth Manogue's everyday way of giving vent to her feeling" when anything out of the common happened. But this particular yell was unlike any other tbat Nannie Bni Nellie had ever heard on that side of the Atlantic, and had, in fact, the genome Corriglea ring in it. Hence they both paused and listened, and evtn their father let his newspaper drop upon his knees and looked round. There was a step upon fhe- stairs. The door handle was tamed. The door opened softly.

All at once the hat and the look and the newspaper dropped upon the floor. The little girls sprang to their feet with a piercing scream. Tbe next minute Martin Dwyer was walking round and round Ambrose Armstrong, wanting to shake hands with him, but finding the ceremony impracticable, for Nannie and Nellie were on their knees, each having possession of one of Mr Armstrong's white slender hands, kissing it wildly.

Mrs Dwyer rushed in from the adjoining room, looking dreadfully frightened, and then astonished to bewilderment, and then besid herself with delight. And then terror took possession of Mrs Dwyer again on remembering tbat she had a saucepan in each band, and that her hands were very greasy, and tbat her cap was not quite sbitable to receive visitors in. So Mrs Dwyer retired precipitately, unhappily coming plump against her handmaiden, thereby calling forth another yell, and causing dire clatter and confusion among the cooking conveniences appertaining to the stove.

Nell'e was the first to heed her father's remonstrances, and set Mr Armstrong's hand free, to be grasped in the old farmer's honest palm.

44 Well, Amby," said Martin Dwyer, with the simple surpriie of a child, " who'd ever think of seeing you in America "

41 Ob, Mr Armstrong," Nellie exclaimed, " now that I have time to think, I hope you were not ejected ; or what does it mean ? "

" It means, my dears," he replied, that I have come to bring yon home to Corriglea. Yes, Martin," he went on, replying to the old farmer's incredulous smile, "it is really so. I have purchased that porti <n of the estate. I have the honour and glory of being a landed proprietor. You'll be my tenant, and I'll be your landlord, I have always read your letters to Alice, my dears," he went on, addressing the twins, who seemed unable to comprehend his words. " I had no necessity to inquire whether you all wished to be back ia the old house at home. So I made up my mind to be the bearer of the glad news myself. The voyage has done me good. I'll just have time to have a look at this wonderful country while you get ready for a voyage to old Ireland. So, my little pets, I'll see you again in the old orchard. It is let to Terry Hanrahan this year as usual. And I promised Molly to have you home in time to b« her bridesmaid ; for you know from Alice that Molly is to be Mrs Joe Cooney when the orchards are shaken. I think Mave Cooney will be wanting yonr services too. But Julii has Alice engaged. So the word ii — Home to Corriglea 1 " exclaimed Amby Armstrong, with a flourish of his white hand.

" Oh, Nellie ! " " Oh, Nannie 1 ' The sisters were locked in each other's arms. Martin Dwyer, too, flourished bis hand above his bead, and then brought it down elowly but emphatically upon the table.

" I always said," be went on, " that I'd have a farm before I'd die. But as the Fenians were not able to do anything, I gave up all hope of Corriglea. Well," condoned Martin Dwyer, after a pause, 14 you'll never turn me out for voting according to my conscience. But wbat does Ned Cormack say?"

41 He is quite willing to give up the farm, and they'll be all glad to have you back," Mr Armstrong replied.

41 I'm very glad to hear that," said Martain Dwyer. "We were always good friend?, and I'll be able to pay him back that £100."

And in his eimple, truthful way Martin Dwyer congratulated himself upon the fortunate circumstance that he'd be home in time for the Beed-sowing. And he'd try the " beardy wheat " this year in the "hill field," as the Beveral other kinds which he had sown in that particular field, though looking very promising when ready for the reaping book, and even " going into the barn," still were found afterwards "not to have the produce." During the evening he favoured his landlord with his plans fur the future — what be would commence to do at once, and the wonderful things he would do " hereafter." And while Ambrose Armstrong listened, looking alternately from Nannie's beaming blue to Nellie's sparkling black eyes, he thought himself the happiest landlord proprietor on the face of the e&ilb..

"There's only one thing troubling me," said Mr Armstrong. 11 I'm not sure yet whether Tom will be with us."

" I'm afraid," Martin Dwyer repliod, " he wouldn't be satisfied to live in Corriglea dow."

" I think he'd more anxious to go home than any of as," said Nannie, " though he rever ta ks about it. But I'd know by his faoe whenever we have a letter from Alice."

"To be sure he'll come home," put in her mother. "Isit to let me into a ship to cross the wide ocean he would ? And who would I have to do anything for me if Tom didn't come home,"

Mrs Dwyer withdrew to an adjoining room feeling that she had been ill-treated, but resolved to bear her wrongs with dignity, and commenced to remonstrate with Cauth f r having everything just what it ought not to be, in tones of such subdued and persuasive gentleness that the fat hand-maiden at first biubWered, and immediately after burst into beaming gladness and requested her mistress to wait till they'd be at home and she'd see " bow good she'd be." And then mistress and maid looked into each other's eyes, and, in spirit, were standing one on either side of the big pig-trough in the old farm-yard at Corriglea.

(To be continued.)