The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume LI, Issue 29, 9 July 1924, Page 3

The Storyteller

(By 0. J. Kiokham.)

Km.o eini agow OS The Homes of Tipperary

CHAPTER LXlL—(Continued.) ..Grace was by no means unmoved by the passages in this letter in which Mary glanced at the sufferings of her poor neighbors, and the sad change that had como ove* Knocknagow, where, Grace used to say, the idea must have been suggested to her favorite poet: "You'd swear they knew no other mood But mirth and love in Tipperary." But that allusion to Hugh and Miss Delany put her into a brown study. Could it be that matters had gone so far between him and Minnie Delany? He had only met her once, but Grace now remembered he was quite ''taken up with her," and scarcely took any notice of herself. Graee was angry, and .angry for being angry. For, what was it to her? The arrival of the dress for the bailwhich fitted to perfection, and looked even. more becoming than she expected—put everything else out of her head for an hour or two. Then, as she sat down to take breath, after trying the effect of all her ornaments, strange to say, she found herself thinking of Tommy Lahy, an educated .gentleman, handsome and rich—perhaps famous —crossing the wide ocean to lay all his wealth and laurels at her feet. But then it occurred to her that the moustache with which, in fancy, she had adorned his lip was not yet a reality, and Tommy Lahy was dismissed contemptuously. When dressed for the ball she went, as was her'custom, to her father's study, in order' that he might see her in all her glory. She was startled, on entering, to see a man standing alone at the table wrapped in a great-coat. It was Hugh Kearney. For a moment surpriso kept her from giving him her hand, which she did give at last without speaking. He almost hesitated to touch the dainty glove, for he was wet and travel-stained, the rain glistening upon his face and beard. She thought the dark eyes glistened, tooand she was not mistaken. How immeasurable seemed tho distance between them at that moment! She was so bright and so beautiful, so fitted for the sunshine, that to draw her towards him, into the gloom that hung over his pathway, even if he could do so, would (he thought) be almost a crime. Recovering from her first surprise, she became quite formal, almost haughty, in her manner, as she sat upon a chair, at the opposite side of the table from him and said: "I had a letter from Mary to-day, and was glad to see by it that ye were all well." This was a relief to him; as he feared she might ask a question which he would have found some difficulty in answering. , . . . ' "I'll be back in a moment," said the doctor, entering hastily with a letter in his hand. "0 Grace!"—Hugh made a sign and the doctor checked himself. "You are already dressed for the ball," he added; "I see you are determined to be early in the field." "Mrs. D is to call for me," said she, laughing as she left the room. ',.„ • "I don't like to bring you out such a night as this," said Hugh, "unless you think it" absolutely necessary.' Dr. Cusack assured me there was no immediate danger." "Well, I prefer going at once," returned Dr. Kiely. "Will you have some refreshment?" "No, thank you. I had something at the hotel. And I have no time to lose," he added, looking at his watch. "Well, I hope you will succeed in the object of your journey. If not, don't forget to let me know. Good night." As Hugh Kearney sat upon th« top of the mail-coach, regardlless of the cold rain dashing into his face, he could wish that the night and his journey were a year long. It galled his. proud spirit to think that ho Was going to

beg. It would be easier for him to die. ' But lie though! £ - of his father and mother, and his sister, his beautiful and .. noble sister,- and for their sakes he resolved to make any g^':. and every sacrifice consistent with honor. He bowed his Egjk. • head and covered his face with his hands as the thought - > occurred to him that he might never see his mother alive >£&gain. "And if I fail in my mission," he said to himself, §H ." 'I could almost wish it may be so. She would feel the MM /blow more keenly than any of us, when the first ni.sr of r , *^ e storm has almost killed her." : ;. v "Ho was roused by the loud bray of the guard's horn, :,-. and on looking up, saw a crowd of vehicles blocking up the - road in front of a suburban mansion, from the windows of ;- : ■-;... which the light streamed out upon the throng of smoking .1. horses and shouting drivers, as they struggled and jostled jer". one another to get out of the way of the mail coach. Hugh remembered it was at this house the ball was to which :;--V Grace was going, and fancied he caught a glimpse of her crossing the hall as the coach plunged into the darkness. ;.:;.; "There's a ball there r sir," said the guard behind him, who thought he meant to inquire what it all meant; for ;.. ; - Hugh had waved his hand towards the lighted windows. P;.''":.: >- But the action was an involuntary "Farewell." .—v- • Grace was not there, however. She ran down stairs on hearing Mrs. H 's carriage stop at the door, and -...; meeting her father in the hall wrapped in his cloak,, she 4" asked where ho was going. "To Ballinnclash," he replied. "Mrs. Kearnev got suddenly ill this morning." ■: "Why did not Hugh tell me?" "Well, he saw you dressed for the party, and did not like to spoil your enjoyment. He is going to Dublin by £y " : the night coach." : :. -- She paused for a moment, looking bewildered, and then hurried to the hall-door, .whore a servant was waiting to hold an umbrella over her while she got into the carriage Her father looked sad, and shook his head, as he turned into his study for a parcel he had forgotten. Mrs. J) 's -,;'.: carriage was rolling up the street as he came out,' but to his surprise ({race met him in the hall. "I have told Mrs. I) 0 f Mrs. Kearney's illness," . said she, m a low, firm voice. "And now will you let me go with you? I'll bo ready in ten minutes." "It is a cold, wet night, for so long a drive," he replied. ' "Oh, no matter. Do let me go." "Well, then, lose no time," ; She flew up the stairs, and there was no sadness in his look now, and no shaking of the head, as he gazed after her, with all a father's love and pride. - The tears welled into Willie Kearney's eves when Hugh shook him by the hand in his uncle's warehouse. -.. ._ "I hope you find Willie a. good boy?" said Hugh "No better, no-better," returned his uncle. "He'll be a first-rate business man." i "Well, Hugh," said the merchant, when he had explained the business upon which he had come "it is a sad business. But I must tell you plainly I cannot do what T-you require. It would be only throwing good money after bad, and I owe a duty to my own children.. Your father • was always careless and improvident, and I often told him he was a fool-to expend so much upon his farms when he had no sufficient security. I lent him money before, which I _■ never expect to be paid. And you know I never got a penny of what I was entitled to by my father's will I left it all to them, and depended on my own exertions. And ■ " now I ask you is it just to expect more than that from me —— particularly mso hopeless a business?" ' Id cut off my hand rather than ask it for myself. But :> I can t bear the thought of seeing them ruined. And if the rent now due, were paid, I do believe it possible by - - care and economy, to pay you after a little time I'll ~. you my honor I'll do my best." -^•/; After a long pause, his uncle filled a cheque, and handed , - v ■ it to him. >%L - :*'?■ S " 0t much more than half the sum you want," said he = but I cannot give you more. And mind; it is to ' you and not to your father,. I am giving it. You won't go back without coming out to see us? * Your cousins would be most happy to meet you."

-, "Oh, I cannot lose an hour," replied Hugh. "Goodbye." And after shaking hands warmly with the sturdy merchant, who had some of his father's brusqueness in hi* manner, he hurried out of the office, his heart somewhat lightened of its load. ' : • "Dr. Kiely will do the \r«t," said he, as he hum* through the crowded street..._ "And if my poor mother has rallied, with God's help, all will-bo well." While Hugh Kearney was picturing- whirling among the dancers .at the ball,-.he. was hurrying to hie mother's bedside. ' . ' The second day after, she and Mary were sitting together in the well-remembered little room up in the st*e» roof of the old cottage. Mrs. Kearney was out of danger but it was feared she would never wholly recover the effect, of the shock she had got. The cause of the shock was kent a secret from Grace; and she candidly told Mary that this made her feel uneasy and uncomfortable, for she could not imagine what motive there could be for concealing the circumstance, whatever it was, from her. Mary flushed scarlet as she answered: ■r * "Well, it is very foolish to be making a mystery of it •But J. believe people always feel ashamed under such circumstances; though I scarcely know why they should. The tact is, we were all startled the other morning to find all our cattle, and sheep, and horses, and, in fact, all we had, seized upon by the agent for rent, and driven away to pound. When poor mamma heard the bailiffs shouting and saw what had happened, she fell down in a fit, and w. feared for some time she was dying. But, thank God it is not so bad, and if I saw any hope of her being reconciled I'd be happy." - "I don't see anything to be ashamed of," said Grace -And yet," Mary replied, "people who would fawn upon us yesterday would not know us to-day. And if Hush cannot prevail upon my uncle to advance the money to release the cattle before they ere., canted, I don't know what the end will be. How well I can now understand what the poor people suffer in being driven from their home., every day. I love the very stone, of this old place," she murmured, with the tears in her eyes, she leant out of the window, and looked round the garden, and out over the fields and down to the little brook, along whose bank, she and her brothers and sisters used to spend the long summer days in their happy childhood. And must they leave it all now to strangers, perhaps, who never heard their very names? Her father was standing on the "new ditch, looking towards that part of his farm which was a quagmire some years before, and she guessed what hi. thoughts were. "It was very good of you to come to us, Grace," said she. iNo one can cheer my father like you." 'Ah, I ought to have come long ago," Grace replied with a sigh. "Better late than never," returned Mary, cheerfully. And here is somebody else who wants you to comfort him. 1 really think he will change his mind, and give you Eva's place in his heart," Grace laughed as Mr. Lloyd rode by on his grey norland then- looked grave. - ' ( 'oh here are the Hanlys," she exclaimed, brightening up and the pony coming on quite gaily, and head foremost I suppose we must go down. By-the-by, Mary, what about She stopped in the middle of her question, which was suggested by Rose Hanly's curls, which fell over her shoulders in ringlets that might almost rival those in which Mr Lloyd's heart got .o hopelessly entangled the night he distinguished himself a. a poet. (To bo continued.) -« C-«*o- '. Christ is the head of the Churoh, not only in His Divine Nature, but also in His human Nature.—St. Bonarenture.