Mademoiselle remembered the Rue de la Paix, and smiled to herself at the thought of the shops in the Irish village, but she said honestly enough that she would enjoy the expedition; for would not Bridgie O'Shaughnessy be her companion, and did she not appear sweeter and more attractive with every moment that passed? Nearly an hour had elapsed since breakfast began, and still she sat behind the urn, smiling brilliantly at each fresh laggard, and looking as unruffled as if she had nothing to do but attend to his demands! It was the quaintest meal Mademoiselle had ever known, and seemed as if it would never come to an end, for just as she was expecting a general rise the Major would cry, "What about a fresh brew of tea? I could drink another cup if I were pressed," and presto! it took on a new lease of life. Last of all Pixie made her appearance, to be invited to a seat on each knee, and embraced with a fervour which made Mademoiselle realise more fully than ever what the child must have suffered during those weeks of suspicion and coldness.

"How's my ferret?" she inquired, with her mouth full of toast, selected from her father's plate; and Pat seized the occasion to deliver his outstanding account.

"Grown out of knowledge! Eightpence halfpenny you owe me now. I had to put on another farthing a week because his appetite grew so big. I knew you would rather pay more than see him suffer. And the guinea-pig died. There's twopence extra for funeral expenses. We put him in the orchard beside the dogs, and made a headstone out of your old slate. It's a rattling good idea, because, don't you see, you can write your own inscription!"

"If it was my own slate, and I am to make up the inscription, I don't see why I should pay!" reasoned Pixie, with a business sharpness which sent her father into fits of delighted laughter, though it left Pat obstinately firm.

"Man's time!" he said stolidly. "That's what costs nowadays. You look at any bill, and you'll find the labour comes to ten times as much as the material. You needn't grudge the poor thing its last resting-place. He was a good guinea-pig to you."

"I don't care how much I owe, for I have no money to pay with," returned Pixie, unconsciously echoing her father's financial principles. "Give Pat a shilling, please, Major, for taking care of my animals while I was away." And that gentleman promptly threw a coin across the table.

"I wish my animals were as cheap to keep! Well, who is coming out with me this morning? I have an appointment in Roskillie at 10:30, but I can't be there now until 11, so there's no use hurrying. Put on your cap, piccaninny, and come to the stables with me. The girls will look after you, Mademoiselle, and find some means of amusing you for the day."

"Oh yes, we'll take care of her!" said Esmeralda lightly; then, as the boys withdrew after their father, she planted her elbows on the table and looked across under questioning eyebrows. "Please, have we to call you 'Mademoiselle' all the time? Haven't you a nice, pretty French name that we could call you instead?"

"Therese! Yes, please do! I should feel so much more happy!" cried Mademoiselle eagerly, and Bridgie nodded in approval.

"Therese is charming, and it's so much more friendly to use Christian names at Christmas-time. I shall begin at once. We want you to help us with the decoration of the rooms, Therese! We shall be just a family party, but Jack will be at home, and we will have games and charades to make it lively. We might rehearse something this morning, mightn't we, Joan dear?"

"I mightn't!" replied "Joan dear" promptly, "because why?—I've got something better to do. There is plenty of time still, and you will agree with me later that my business is important. If you put on a cloak, Therese, I will come back for you in ten minutes, and take you to the stables to join father and Pixie. It will amuse you, I'm sure."

She left the room without waiting for a reply, and Bridgie heaved a sigh of disappointment.

"She's just mad after horses, that girl. Now she will be off with father, and not a sight of her shall we have until afternoon. It's easy to say there is time to spare, but to-morrow we must decorate, and look after all the arrangements for Jack's return, and I do hate a scramble. However, when Esmeralda says she won't, she won't, and there's an end of it. You had better go with her, dear, while I interview the servants."

"I suppose I had," said Mademoiselle slowly. She thought Esmeralda selfish and autocratic, but she was fascinated, despite herself, by her beauty and brightness, and anxious to know her better; so she obediently went up to her room to heap on the wraps, for the morning was cold, though by this time the sun was struggling from behind the clouds. On the way down she was joined by Esmeralda in riding costume—a most peculiar riding costume, and, extraordinary to relate, most unbecoming into the bargain. Mademoiselle's critical glance roamed from head to foot, back again from foot to head, while Esmeralda stood watching her with tightened lips and curious twinkling eyes. Then Bridgie appeared upon the scene, and stopped short, uttering shrill cries of astonishment, as she looked at the slovenly tie, the twisted skirt, the general air of dishevelment and shabbiness.

"Esmeralda, you're an Object! Look at the dust on your skirt. You've not half brushed it, and everything is hanging the wrong way. It's a perfect disgrace you look, to ride out with any man!"

"I'm delighted to hear it! That's just my intention," replied the young lady, tugging the disreputable skirt still further awry, and nodding her beautiful head, with an air of mysterious amusement. The blue serge had a smudge of white all down one side, which looked suspiciously as if the powder-box had been spilt over it. A seam gaped open and showed little fragments of thread still sticking to the cloth.

If Esmeralda's intention was to look disreputable, she had certainly accomplished her object; and when the stables were reached she took care to place herself conspicuously, so that her father's eyes must of necessity rest upon her.

"I'm going to ride to Roskillie with you, dad! It's a fine morning, and I thought you would be the better of my company."

"That's a good girl!" cried the Major cheerily; then his brow puckered, and he stared uneasily at the untidy figure. He was so unnoticing about clothes that it required a good deal to attract his attention, but surely there was something wrong about the girl's get-up to-day? He kept throwing uneasy glances towards her while the horses were brought out, and Esmeralda strolled about in a patch of sunshine, and picked her steps gingerly over the muddles, like a model of fastidious care. She sprang to the saddle, light as thistledown, and curved her graceful throat with a complacent toss, as the groom smoothed her skirt, bringing the white stain into full prominence.

"You want dusting!" said the Major curtly, and a brush was brought from the stable, and scrubbed vigorously up and down, with the result that the surface of the cloth was frayed and roughened, though there was no appreciable removal of the stain.

"It doesn't seem as if it would come out, does it? but there are plenty more further on," said Esmeralda innocently. "Have a try at another, Dennis!"—but the Major motioned the man away with a hasty gesture.

"Leave the rag alone—it's past dusting! Is that the best habit you have to your back?" he cried testily, and the dark eyes looked into his with angelic resignation.

"It was a very good habit—six years ago! That's as good as twelve, for we've worn it in turns ever since. The bodice is the least thing in the world crinkly, for I'm broader than Bridgie, and stretch it out, and then it goes into creases on her figure. We might try washing the skirt to take out the stains, and then it would be clean, if the colour did run a bit! Ride round by the back roads, dear, and I'll keep behind, and not disgrace you!"

"Humph," said the Major again, and led the way out of the yard without another word, Esmeralda following, looking over her shoulder at the little group of watchers with a smile of such triumphant enjoyment as took away Mademoiselle's breath to behold. She looked inquiringly at Pixie, but Pixie and Dennis were in silent convulsions of enjoyment, and only waited until the riders were out of hearing before exploding into peals of laughter.

"That bates all for the cleverness of her! Miss Bridgie has been fretting over that old habit for a couple of years, and trying to wheedle a new one out of the Major, but it's Miss Joan that can twist him round her little finger when she takes the work in hand! That was a funny stain, that got the worse the more you brushed it! She never got that on the hunting-field. Go back to the house, Miss Pixie, dearie, and tell the mistress the new habit is as good as paid for. The Major's not the man I take him for, if he passes the tailor's door this morning without stepping inside!"



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

CHRISTMAS PREPARATIONS.

Esmeralda strolled into the house in time for afternoon tea, and smiled complacently around as she warmed herself at the fire.

"Blue cloth!" she announced triumphantly. "No more serge, thank you, but good, solid cloth with a fine surface to it, and a smart little coat instead of a bodice, which was pure unselfishness on my part, for I should have been fitted well enough, and the man pressed it on me, but I thought of you, me darling, and the agony it would be to you to have your waist misjudged by a couple of inches, so I stuck to the coat, and I hope you are grateful!"

"I am," said Bridgie frankly; but there was a pained expression mingling with her satisfaction, and presently she added slowly, "So Dennis was right, and you got your way again. I have been trying for ages to persuade father that we needed a new habit, but he paid no attention to me."

"You didn't go about it the right way, me dear. You are fifty times cleverer than I, but there is one thing you don't understand, and that is how to manage men! They hate and detest being told what to do, and the secret of getting round them is to make them believe that what you want is their own suggestion. You have to be very cunning, and that's just what you can never manage to be!"

"Yes, she can!" came a shrill cry from the doorway, as Pixie burst into the room and made a bee-line for the tea-table. "Indeed she can now, Esmeralda, so it's no use denying it. She can, perfectly well!"

The three listeners looked at each other with questioning glances, for such vehemence was somewhat bewildering on the part of one who could not possibly have heard the first part of the conversation.

"What can she do?" queried Esmeralda sternly.

"Whatever you say she can't," replied the champion, unabashed; and at that the cloud rolled off Bridgie's brow, like mist before the sun.

"Oh, you precious goose! Bridgie can do everything, can't she? She always could in your eyes. It's very silly of you, dear, but it's very nice. I'm not at all vexed with you about it."

"You would be, though, if you were her true friend, but you always spoil one another, you two!" cried Esmeralda lightly. Then she stared round the room with a surprised expression, and added disapprovingly, "You seem to have been fairly lazy while I've been out. I thought you would have been getting on with the decorations. Whatever have you been doing?"

"Roaming about, and actually daring to enjoy ourselves like other people," retorted Bridgie, with what Mademoiselle was glad to recognise as a decided nip of severity; "but from this minute there must be no more playing until the work is finished. Dennis has cut the evergreens, and we must begin making wreaths at once, so as to be in order when Jack arrives to-morrow evening. We could have two hours' work before dinner."

"I loathe making wreaths; they are so dirty and prickly, and I take a pride in me hands; they are the only ones I have, and what's the use of sleeping in white kid gloves, the same as if I were dressed for a party, if they are to be scratched all over with that hateful holly?" Esmeralda stretched out two well-shaped, if somewhat large, hands, and gazed at them with pensive admiration; but Bridgie was firm, and, scratches or no scratches, insisted that she should take her own share of the work. As soon as tea was over, then, the family descended to the servants' hall, a whitewashed apartment about as cheerful as a vault, and but little warmer despite the big peat fire, where they set to work to reduce a stack of evergreens into wreaths and borderings for cotton wool "Merrie Christmases" and "Happy Newe Yeares" reserved from former occasions.

Pat and Miles cut the branches into smaller and more workable proportions. Pixie unravelled string and wire, and the three elders worked steadily at their separate wreaths. At the end of an hour they had progressed so well that it was suggested that the three fragments should be tied together, and the wreath hung in the hall, to clear the room for further operations.

The suggestion being universally approved, a stormy half-hour followed, when each of the five O'Shaughnessys harangued the others concerning the superiority of his or her own plan of decoration, and precious lives were imperilled on the oldest and shakiest of step-ladders. The boys could naturally mount to the highest step without a fear, but, when mounted, were so clumsy and inartistic in their arrangements that they were called down with derisive cries, and retired to sulk in a corner. Then Bridgie lifted her skirt and gallantly ascended five steps, felt the boards sway beneath her, and scuttled down to make way for her sister. The daring rider across country possessed stronger nerves, but also a heavier body, and the ladder creaked so ominously beneath her that she insisted upon the whole company acting as props, in one breath sending them running for hammer and rope, and in the next shrieking to them to return to their posts.

By the time that the wreath was really hung, the friction had reached such a pitch that Mademoiselle expected a state of civil war for the rest of the evening, and even wondered if the atmosphere would have time to clear before Christmas itself. She could hardly believe the evidence of her senses when the boys affably volunteered to clear away the rubbish, and Bridgie and Esmeralda went upstairs with wreathed arms, calling one another "Darling" and "Love," with the echo of sharp taunt and sharper reply still ringing in the air! Certainly, if the Irish tongue were quick, the heart seemed even quicker to forgive an enemy, or pardon an offence.

By the time that Mademoiselle retired to bed that night the last remnant of strangeness had vanished, and she felt like a lifelong friend and confidante. She had seen the menu for the Christmas dinner, and had helped to manufacture jellies and creams, while Pixie perched upon the dresser, industriously scraping basins of their sweet, lemony, creamy leavings, with the aid of a teaspoon and an occasional surreptitious finger when her sisters were looking in an opposite direction. She suggested and achieved such marvels in the way of garnishing that Molly was greatly impressed, being a very plain cook in more ways than one, and solemnly asked for advice upon the killing of turkeys, when Mademoiselle had to acknowledge ignorance, and lost caste forthwith. Then Esmeralda invited her to a display of evening dresses in her bedroom, and wished to know which she should wear—the black silk with the net top, or the net top over a white skirt, or the black silk with no top at all, and Bridgie plaintively appealed to her for the casting vote on the great question of crackers or no crackers!

It was certainly a curious mingling of grandeur and poverty, this life in the half-ruined Castle, with its magnificent tapestries and carvings, its evidences of bygone splendour, and, alas! present-day parsimony. The little house at Passy could have been put down inside the great entrance hall, but it was a trim little habitation, where on a minute scale all the refinements and niceties of life were observed, and income and expenditure were so well balanced that there was always a margin to the good; but the Misses O'Shaughnessy, who bore themselves as queens in the neighbourhood, and were treated with truly loyal deference, owned hardly a decent gown between them, and were seriously exercised about spending an extra half-crown on a Christmas dinner!

"It's the trifles that mount up! I am a miser about pennies, but I can spend pounds with the best!" Bridgie explained; and Mademoiselle smiled meaningly, for had not the order just gone forth that the Castle was to be "illumined" once more for the arrival of the son and heir?

On Christmas Eve the rain fell in torrents, and, after a morning spent in preparations of one sort and another, the workers felt the need of a little amusing recreation. This did not seem easy to achieve, in this lonely habitation set in the midst of a rain-swept plain, but Bridgie's fertile brain came to the rescue, and proposed a scheme which kept the young people busy for the rest of the afternoon.

"I vote we have a fancy-dress dinner to-night!" she cried, at the conclusion of lunch. "Not an ordinary affair, but like the one the Pegrams enjoyed so much when they were spending the winter in Grindelwald. 'A sheet and pillow-case party,' they called it, for that is all you have out of which to make your dress. I will open the linen- box and give you each a pair of sheets, and a pillow-case for head-gear, and you must arrange them in your own rooms, and not let anyone see you until the gong rings. It really will be quite pretty—all the white figures against the flags and holly, and we shall feel more festive than in our ordinary clothes. I think it will be great fun, don't you?"

Great fun indeed! The O'Shaughnessy family was always ready for any excitement, and particularly so at Christmas-time, a season when we all feel that we ought to be festive, and are injured in our minds if there is nothing to make us so.

Esmeralda fell at once to pleating her table-napkin into one shape after another, Mademoiselle smiled over a happy inspiration, whereupon wily Pat put on his most angelic look and asked—

"Will you dress me, Mademoiselle? A man's no good at this sort of thing. You can't fasten sheets with screws, and I'm no hand at fancy stitching. I've an idea I'd look rather well as—" He whispered a few words in her ear, and Mademoiselle threw up her hands, and laughed, and nodded in emphatic assent.

Pixie and Miles fell to Bridgie's share, while the Major declared that he would have nothing to do with such foolishness, but with a ruminating expression on his face which belied the words.

Bridgie went upstairs immediately after lunch, and, opening her linen- chest, apportioned its contents among the different members of the family. Some wanted large sheets, some wanted small; some begged for frills to their pillow-cases, some preferred plain; but at last all were satisfied, and were further supplied with tape from the various work- baskets, while Pixie was sent a round of the bedrooms to pick up the pins, with which the floors were liberally scattered, as the demand in this direction was so large as to be practically unlimited.

Esmeralda flew off at once, with the boys in her train; but Mademoiselle lingered to help Bridgie to fold away the linen that was not needed, and to enjoy the luxury of a quiet chat, which was not an easy thing to accomplish in this noisy household. Bridgie in company was always laughing and gay, but the visitor had already noticed that Bridgie alone was apt to grow grave and to wear a wistful pucker on her brow. It was there now as she locked the chest and sat down on the lid, stretching out her arms with a sigh of weariness. The wintry light left the gallery full of shadows, and the only bright thing to be seen was the girl's own golden head outlined against the oak walls. Mademoiselle thought that if she had been an artist she could have wished for no fairer picture than this old-world corridor, with the fair face of the young mistress shining out like a lily in the darkness; but the lily toiled more than she liked to see, and she could not restrain a protest against the custom which gave one sister all the work, and another all the play.

"You are tired already before the day is half over, and now you have those children's dresses to look after as well as your own! Why do you not make Esmeralda help, instead of doing everything yourself?"

"Esmeralda, is it?" Bridgie's face lit up with a smile as she repeated the name. "Indeed now, Mademoiselle, I'm never worked so hard in my life as when Esmeralda has been trying to help, and I have to tidy away after her! She has the best will in the world, poor thing; but work doesn't come naturally to her. You mustn't be hard on her. She shows her worst side to a stranger, for, though her first impulse may be selfish, when she takes time to think, she is all generosity and kindness. That habit, now! She was longing to have a fitted bodice, but she chose a coat, out of consideration for me. She is a darling, and so young yet that I don't like to worry her. Let her have a good time as long as she may. It will be hard enough soon."

Mademoiselle started and looked alarmed questionings, and Bridgie smiled in response, saying in cool, conversational tones—

"We are ruined, you know! We can't go on living here much longer. Father has spent all his money, and we should have had to leave before now, but that he came into a little more at mother's death. It was not much, and it is going very fast. It can't be more than a year or two at most before the crash comes, so you can't wonder I let the boys and girls enjoy themselves, can you?"

"Mais oui! I wonder very much!" cried Mademoiselle, dismayed at what seemed to her prudent mind such a fatal way of preparing for a difficulty. "The kind thing surely would be to prepare them for what will come. It will make it more hard if they have never known work. In three years one can do much to prepare for a struggle. Why do you not speak to your sister, and say it is time to stop play? Why do you not send her away to work, and then perhaps the bad day need never come after all?"

Bridgie looked surprised, almost shocked at the suggestion. The easy- going Irish nature saw things in a different light from that taken by the thrifty Frenchwoman; moreover, the idea of girls working for themselves was still viewed as decidedly infra dig by the old- fashioned inhabitants of Bally William. She gasped at the thought of her father's wrath at such a suggestion, then laughed at the idea of Esmeralda's earnings being large enough to stave off the coming ruin.

"I'm afraid it would be taking more than that to prevent it, Therese! You don't know the state our landlords are in over here. There's no money to be got at all, and things go from bad to worse. Until mother died I didn't know how poor we were, and at first I wore myself to pieces saving pennies here and halfpennies there; but there's not much fun in saving twopence when nothing less than thousands of pounds would do any good. I grew tired of it, and says I to myself, 'A short life, and a merry one!' If I can't help, I'll just put the thought from my mind, and give the young ones a good time to remember. No use troubling the creatures before it's necessary!"

Mademoiselle grunted in eloquent disapproval, and wished to know whether the master of the house had been equally philosophical.

"Is it the Major?" cried Bridgie, laughing. "He never troubles himself about anything, and he has it all fitted up like a puzzle. Esmeralda is to marry a duke, Jack a countess in her own right, and meself a millionaire manufacturer, who will be so flattered at marrying an O'Shaughnessy that he will be proud to house Pixie into the bargain. Pat and Miles are to go to London to seek their fortunes, and the Castle is to be let—to Jack and his wife by preference, but, failing them, to anyone who offers, when the Major can keep himself and his hunters on the rental without a 'Thank you' to anyone. It works out so beautifully when you hear him talk, that it seems folly to trouble oneself beforehand."

"And suppose you don't marry? Your country is full of old maids. And suppose the Castle does not let? It is very far from—anywhere!" said Mademoiselle, who had lived in the gayest city in the world, and felt the solitude of Bally William only a degree less absolute than that of the backwoods themselves. "Suppose none of these things of which you speak were to 'appen, what then?"

"Indeed, I can't tell you!" returned Bridgie, truthfully enough. "And— excuse me, me love, it's not a very diverting suggestion for the time of year! Let me keep my millionaire, if it's only for the day, for by the same token I'm quite attached to him in prospect! Will you come and visit me, Therese, when I'm comfortably established in my soap bubble?"

She was laughing again, full of mischief and wilful impracticability, and Mademoiselle was tactful enough to realise that the time was not apt for pressing her lesson further. Later on she would return to the charge, but to-day at least might be safely given over to enjoyment.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

PAT'S TAUNT.

When the gong sounded that night two white-robed figures stole out of Mademoiselle's room, and crept quietly along the gallery. Pat was arrayed as a knight of old, wearing a pair of Esmeralda's old white stockings, surmounted by loose linen trunks, the rest of the sheet being ingeniously swathed round his body, and kept in place by such an elaborate cris-crossing of tape as gave the effect of a slashed doublet. A thickly pleated cloak, (made out of sheet number two), hung over his shoulders, and the pillow-case was drawn into a cap, which was placed jauntily on the side of his head. As handsome a young knight as one could wish to see was Mr Patrick O'Shaughnessy, and the manner in which he held Mademoiselle's hand, and led her down the great staircase, evoked thunders of applause from the watchers beneath.

Mademoiselle herself looked worthy of her squire, for her dark, animated face stood the test of the unrelieved whiteness so successfully, that she was all ablush with delight at the discovery that she was not an old woman after all, but on occasion could still look as girlish as she felt. She was attired as a Normandy peasant, with turned-back skirt and loose white bodice; but the feature of the costume was undoubtedly the cap, which looked so extraordinarily like the real article that the sceptical refused to believe in its pillow-case origin, until the buttonholes were exhibited in evidence.

"It is wonderful—wonderful! But how have you made it so stiff and crinkly?" the Major inquired curiously; and Mademoiselle laughed in gleeful triumph.

"I 'ave curled it with the curling tongs—not perhaps curl, but what the washerwoman would say—'goffer,' and for the rest, can you not see the wire? It is a piece I have taken upstairs after the decorations, and it is stitched in to keep the folds in place; but I must keep my 'ead still, for it is not too strong. You are very fine too, sir. You are, I suppose, some old patrician?"

"Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears!" declaimed the Major, throwing his arms about with impassioned gestures. His white toga fell in graceful folds round his tall figure; his arms were bared to the elbows; he wore a twisted turban, which was impressive, if not exactly appropriate; and it was really an imposing spectacle to behold him strutting up and down the hall, with a great display of sandalled feet, of which he was evidently immensely proud.

Bridgie sat demurely on a high-backed chair, a sweet-faced nun, with her golden hair hidden from sight, and her dark-lashed eyes looking lovelier than ever when contrasted with the white bands across her forehead. She had been so busy dressing others that she had had no time to plan anything more elaborate for herself; but if she had worked for days she could not have hit on a costume more becoming to her style of beauty. It was scarcely in character, however, to shriek aloud with laughter, as she did a moment later, as Mark Antony was suddenly arrested on his march by an apparition which leapt forward from behind a screen, and advanced upon him to an accompaniment of unearthly groanings.

Miles as a ghost was certainly an eerie figure; for by means of a stick strapped to his back the sheet was raised to an abnormal altitude, while a couple of tennis rackets held in either hand, made extended wings, with which to swoop about, and raise warning signals to the onlookers. He chased Mark Antony until that classic gentleman threatened fight with a poker; when he amused himself by groaning vigorously at Pixie, who had been attired as a "Lady in Waiting"—not, it must be confessed, with any striking success; and who was somewhat ruffled in her temper through constant trippings over her train.

"Ye stupid thing!" she cried crossly. "Be over hooting at me! If you are a bogie, you can go and haunt by yourself, and not molest your betters! It's the worst dress of the lot. Nothing but three sticks and the sheets in knots. You had better rest yourself a bit, and groan while we are at dinner, for your head is covered up that tight that you'll never be able to eat!"

"Trust me!" cried Miles, and somewhere about the middle of the ghost the white folds parted, and out peered a crimson face with twinkling eyes, and a mat of damp curls falling over the forehead. "You don't catch me taking any part which interfered with eating! Contrariwise—I'm best off of you all, for I have just to drop my sticks, and—there I am! The sheet falls down, and I eat my dinner in comfort, instead of being stewed alive, as you will be before it's half over."

"That's true for you! I feel as if I had mumps already!" sighed the nun sadly; but the next moment she gave a cry of delight, and pointed eagerly across the hall.

"Esmeralda! Oh, look! look!"

There had been so much to see and admire that the absence of the second daughter of the house had not been noticed; but even as Bridgie spoke each one realised that her late arrival was just what might have been expected. The beautiful Miss O'Shaughnessy had preferred to be sure of her audience before appearing upon the stage; for, to judge by the continuous rumble of the sewing-machine which had sounded from her room, she had bestowed no little pains upon her costume.

Great expectations are apt to be disappointed; but in this instance it is safe to say that the reality exceeded the wildest dreams, for it was almost impossible to believe that this charming figure owed her attire to no more promising materials than ordinary bed-linen! Esmeralda had aimed at nothing less ambitious than a Watteau costume, and the rumbling of the machine was accounted for by one glance at the elaborately quilted petticoat. She had folded a blanket between the double sheet, so as to give the effect of wadding, and an ancient crinoline held out the folds with old-world effect. For the rest she wore the orthodox panniers on the hips, and a bodice swathed as artistically as might be, round the beautiful bare neck and arms. Her hair was dressed high and powdered, and the pillow-case was drawn into the shape of a hood which dangled lightly over her arm. Half-way down the staircase she came to a stand, and stood sunning herself in the applause of the beholders, then came slowly forward, and, standing in the middle of the floor, revolved slowly round and round, so as to display every feature of her costume. It was certainly a marvel of ingenuity, and amidst the general chorus of praise, Mademoiselle could not refrain from improving the occasion by remarking that such a good needlewoman should have no difficulty in turning dressmaker for her own and her sisters' benefit. The reply to this insinuation was a threatening grimace, and Esmeralda made haste to draw her father's attention to another topic.

"Aren't you proud of me now, father dear, and cut to the heart to think that no one will see me but yourself? Sure it's a crime to waste all this splendour on the desert air!"—and she rolled her eyes at him with a languishing glance, and smiled so bewitchingly, that the Major rubbed his hands in delight, and fell unhesitatingly into the snare.

"Faith, and you're right! It's a perfect crime. We should have asked some of the neighbours to see you. Bridgie, why did you not think of that, now? We might have had a pleasant little party to amuse your friend, instead of taking all this trouble for nothing!"

"Not on two days' invitation, father, and besides, Jack is not here yet. While he is at home, perhaps—"

"Yes, father, on New Year's Eve! Give us leave to ask some people on New Year's Eve, and we will plan such a wonderful programme as will be the talk for miles around. I'm brimful of ideas, and we have not had any sort of entertainment for two years now. Say we may ask them, won't you, dear?"

But at this the Major began to look uneasy, for it was one thing to find fault with Bridgie for not having given an invitation in the past, and quite another to be asked to sanction a fresh one in the future.

"Who will you be wanting to ask?" he queried anxiously. "Never did I meet such an exacting child! My mouth's no sooner opened than you are ready to jump inside! 'A wonderful programme,' says she. And who's to pay for it, may I ask? You would ruin me between you, you children, if I hadn't saved you the trouble long ago. How much will this entertainment be costing me now?"

"Oh, twopence halfpenny! Not more than that. We will kill the old turkey, that is so tough that he is fairly pleading to be killed, and use up the dessert from Christmas, and Mademoiselle shall make us some of her fine French dishes, and there will be so much going on that there will be very little time to eat. Make your mind easy, and trust to me."

"I'll see you through!" cried Esmeralda grandly; whereupon the Major shrugged his shoulders, and reflected cheerfully that a few pounds more or less made little difference. Let the girl have her way! she had been kept too long in seclusion as it was, and what was the use of possessing the most beautiful daughter in the county if you could not show her off to your friends once in a while?

Silence was rightly interpreted as consent, and having gained her point, Esmeralda was wreathed in smiles and amiability for the rest of the evening.

The Major dispensed with his toga at an early hour, and Nun and Ghost alike shed their wrappings and appeared in ordinary evening dress; but Esmeralda was too complacently conscious of looking her best to make any change in her attire. Dinner passed hilariously enough, and then, the rain having ceased, the Major put on his coat and went out for a walk in the grounds, while the ladies retired to their snuggery upstairs and made themselves comfortable round the fire. To them entered presently Master Pat, white knight no longer, but an ordinary shabby stripling with pensive eyes and an innocent expression. He sat himself down in leisurely fashion, and gazed at his second sister with melancholy interest, as one far removed from youthful follies and grieved to behold them in those he held dear.

"You are the only one who has kept on her dress! I suppose you don't mind what you suffer, so long as you make an appearance! It's a pity, as you said, that there is no one to admire you, but if you would like to meet a stranger, why don't you go for a walk down the left wing and back by the hall? The moonlight is shining in at the windows, and you know the old saying that if you walk by yourself in the moonlight to- night you will see the spirit of your future husband waiting for you! You might have a peep at him now, and come back and tell us what he is like!"

Esmeralda turned her head on the cushion, and looked at him with a lazy smile.

"What nonsense are you talking? You are thinking of Hallowe'en, stupid! That has nothing to do with to-day!"

"It has, then! It's just as good as Christmas Eve. We been told so by those that know, but you want to get out of it because you haven't the pluck. All girls are afraid of the dark."

"You said yourself it was moonlight! I shouldn't be afraid to walk the whole round of the Castle if it came to that, but I don't see why I should. I'm snug and comfortable here, and it's not worth disturbing myself to convince a boy like you!"

"So you say." Pat wagged his head in undisguised scepticism. "It's easy to talk, my dear, but I should prefer actions to words. You made a poor show on that ladder yesterday, and I don't like to own a coward for my sister. Look here now, you were worrying me to give you that racket, and I said I would do nothing of the kind, but I'll change my mind and hand it over to you to-night, if you will walk that round and come back here without letting a single howl out of you the whole time!"

Bridgie drew her brows together and looked suspicious at this unwonted generosity, but Esmeralda sprang to her feet, all eagerness and excitement.

"You will now? Honour bright? If I walk down the left wing, go down the circular staircase, and round by the hall, you will hand the racket over when I come back?"

"I will so!"

"You hear that, you girls? You are witnesses, remember! I'm off this minute, and if I meet my spouse I'll bring him back for a warm by the fire, so stoke up and get a good blaze. I hope he will think I am becomingly arrayed."

He was sure to do that, was Mademoiselle's reflection as she smiled back into the sparkling face, and watched the tall figure flit down the corridor. Quite ghost-like it looked in the cold blue rays which came in through the windows, the dead white of the dress standing out sharply against the darkness of the background. It was almost as if the spirit of one of those old ancestors whose portraits lined the walls had come back to revisit her old home, and Bridgie shivered as she looked, and turned on Pat with unusual sharpness.

"What nonsense are you up to now? She'll not catch anything but her death of cold, wandering about those galleries with her bare arms and neck. Spirits indeed! You ought to know better than to believe in such nonsense; but there's some mischief afoot, or you wouldn't be so generous all of a sudden. What's the meaning of it now? Tell me this minute!"

Pat's grin of delight extended from ear to ear; he stood in obstinate silence until the last flicker of whiteness disappeared in the distance, then shut the door, and deliberately barred it with his back.

"Sit down, then, and I'll give the history; but don't attempt to get out, for you'll not pass this door except over my dead body. You say she won't meet anybody, do you? That's where you are wrong, for he's waiting for her at this very minute. He came ringing at the door five minutes ago, the young Englishman that's with the Trelawneys, and that father was after offering a mount to the other day. 'Is Mr O'Shaughnessy at home?' says he. 'He is, sir,' says Molly, knowing no better, for she never had a sight of the Major after dinner. 'Can I see him for a moment? I'll not come farther than the hall, for the cart's waiting, and I am not fit to enter a room.' So with that he comes in, six foot two, if he's an inch, and covered from head to foot in a shiny white mackintosh, with his head peeping out on top, and I've seen uglier men than him before this. I was coming down the stairs after shedding me sheets, and Molly was asking me where the Major might be, so I told her to send Dennis in search, and I was all smiles and apologies for the darkness of the place, with only the one lamp and the fire dying out on the hearth. 'I'll fetch more light,' says I, and, 'Pray do nothing of the kind. It's charming to see this fine old place lit up by the moonlight; I could study it for an hour on end. A perfect setting for a ghost story, isn't it?' says he, smiling, and with that he crosses over to the window, and by the same token it was a regular ghost he looked himself, all tall, and straight, and shiny white. Then it walked into my head what a jest it would be to send Esmeralda to meet him, and the two of them each thinking the other was a ghost, and frightened out of their seven senses. So I excused myself, polite like, saying I would speak to my sister, and the rest of the tale you know for yourselves. I taunted her with cowardice to make her rise to the occasion, but that wouldn't work, and time was passing, so I turned to bribery, but by good fortune I'll keep my racket yet. At this very moment she will be feeling her way cautiously down that stair, and he'll be hearing the creak, and coming forward to see the cause. All bluey white they'll be, and each one so scared by the sight of the other that they'll hardly dare to breathe. Listen now while I open the door, and you may hear her squeal."

"Patrick O'Shaughnessy, ye graceless boy, how dare you take such a liberty with your sister! A strange man,—an Englishman,—and Esmeralda knowing nothing about him, and believing there is no one near! Let me pass now! Stand aside this moment! Patrick O'Shaughnessy, will you let me pass, or will you not?"

"I will not!" returned Pat sturdily. "It's my joke, and I'm not going to have it spoiled. You leave them to fight it out between themselves, and if they come out alive you'll hear the tale first hand. 'What do my eyes behold?' says he. 'What fairy form is this I see before me?' 'Pity me!' says she. 'What's that white pillar over there by the window? It's a dust sheet that Molly has been hanging over the curtains, and maybe the draught is making it move. Oh, oh, oh, there's a head to it! It's alive! It comes towards me! What will I do? What will I do?'"

Pat clasped his hands in affected terror, and shrieked in clever imitation of his sister's manner. The door was still ajar, and as he stopped a sound from below rose faintly to the ears of his companions, a second shriek so alike in tone and expression that it might have been the echo of his own. "Pixie," cried Bridgie wildly, "at him, Pixie! At him!" And like a flash of lightning Pixie lay prone on the floor with her arms wound tightly round Pat's legs. He swayed and staggered, clutched at the wall, and felt Mademoiselle's arms nip him from behind, as the door flew open, and Bridgie sped like a lapwing along the gallery.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

THE WHITE LADY.

Esmeralda set out on her expedition in the highest spirits, for a girl who is brought up on a regime of outdoor sport is not troubled with nerves, and she laughed at the suggestion of ghosts with the scorn which it deserved. What she did not laugh at, however, was the promise of Pat's racket, a gift to him from an absent godfather, and coveted by all his brothers and sisters, but by none so much as Esmeralda, who played a very pretty game of her own, and felt a conviction that she could distinguish herself still more if she possessed a good racket instead of the old one which had done duty for years, and was now badly sprung.

Pat had promised in the presence of witnesses to hand over his treasure if she returned to the schoolroom without—oh, elegant expression!—"letting a howl out of her," and Esmeralda smiled to herself at the unlikeliness of such a proceeding. Why, except for the cold air, it was really a treat to walk along the disused old gallery which traversed the left wing of the Castle, where the moonbeams shone in through the long row of windows with such picturesque effect. She sauntered along, enjoying the scene with artistic appreciation, even feeling a sense of satisfaction in her own appropriate attire. Powdered hair and hooped skirt seemed more in keeping with the surroundings than the bicycling dress of everyday life, and it was an agreeable variety to pose as one's own great-grandmother once in a way.

Esmeralda reached the end of the gallery, and stretched a hand on either side, to feel her way down the circular stone staircase which would lead her into the entrance hall below. This means of descent was rarely used, and was now in a semi-ruinous condition, the stone steps being so much worn with the action of time that it required some little care to descend safely in the darkness. She stood poised on each step, extending a pretty foot to find a secure resting-place on the one below; round the curve where the darkness was almost complete, then coming into sight of the hall, with the moonlight making long streaks of light across the floor, and in the distance a yellow gleam from the solitary lamp.

Only three more steps remained to be descended, when suddenly she stopped short, drawing her breath sharply, for there by the second window stood a man's tall form, all straight and still, and of a curious shining whiteness. The face was turned aside, but at the sound of that gasping sob it turned slowly round, and a pair of keen, steel-like eyes stared into hers.

Geoffrey Hilliard had been thoroughly enjoying this opportunity of studying the features of the fine old hall, and making a note of them for future use. "What a magnificent old place!" he said to himself. "Trelawney says the man is at his last gasp, and will positively have to turn out before long. Poor beggar! I pity him. It must be heartbreaking to leave an old place like this, where one's ancestors have lived for generations, where every stone has its history, and the spirits of the departed seem still hovering in the air. Halloa, what's that?"

He turned his head, and peering round the corner of that quaintest of stone staircases beheld a vision at sight of which he stood transfixed and astounded. Spirits of ancestors, indeed! Here was one before his very eyes, a picture out of its frame, a dream of grace and beauty such as is not vouchsafed to mortal eyes in this commonplace, matter-of-fact twentieth century! The first glance was admiration alone, the second brought a thrill of something uncomfortably like fear, for to the most unsuperstitious of minds there was still something unpleasantly eerie in this unexpected apparition. Motionless as a figure of stone stood the White Lady, her body craned forward, one hand resting against the wall, the other drawing aside the quilted skirt; the moonlight fell full on the face, and showed it stiff and rigid as a sculptor's block.

For one moment Geoffrey felt incapable of movement, but the next commonsense returned, and a dozen matter-of-fact explanations darted into his head. What he saw was no figure, but simply a statue, a reflection, a curious effect of light. He must examine the phenomenon at close quarters, and find a solution with which to confound the superstitious in the future. No sooner said than done, and he stepped forward, momentarily averting his eyes, to make his sight the more searching. When he opened them again the figure still confronted him; but now the position seemed slightly altered, for instead of bending forward she had drawn back, as if to avoid his approach.

A dread seized him lest the phenomenon might vanish altogether before he had had time to discover its character; he gave a sudden leap forward, and to his dismay beheld the figure stagger forward, and collapse in a heap on the lowest stair. In an instant his arms were round her, and two warm living hands came together with a shock of surprise. Masculine ghost lifted, and feminine ghost struggled and pinched in a manner unmistakably human. But if Geoffrey Hilliard's matter-of-fact mind leapt to a quick understanding of the real situation, Esmeralda was much more sensational in her explanation. He remembered that it was Christmas Eve, a time when some family festivity, of which fancy-dress was a feature, might well be in progress; she leapt to the dramatic conclusion that this was a thief masquerading in ghost's attire, the better to make his escape in the event of discovery.

Cowardly ruffian! He should not find it so easy as he expected! If it was only a girl whom he had encountered, he should find that she was not so easily shaken off as he expected. To Hilliard's intense amazement he felt the hands fasten suddenly round his arm, the white fingers grip his flesh with no uncertain grasp. The premeditated apologies died upon his lips, as the White Lady became rosy red, and her lips parted to show teeth set in threatening anger. He stepped back, or tried to do so, but she clung only the closer; he laughingly tried to move her hand from his arm, at which she shrieked aloud, and struggled valiantly.

"No, no, you shall not go! You shall stay here until my father comes!"

"That is just what I want to do! Pardon me, there is really no necessity to hold me so fast. I am not going to run away!" returned the young fellow, laughing, but in a somewhat impatient fashion. He had no ambition to be discovered in this melodramatic attitude, and once more made an effort to escape. The grasp on her wrist was gentle, but withal wonderfully strong, and to Esmeralda's horror she found it impossible to struggle against it. The thought that the thief was escaping after all was too humiliating to be borne, and as one hand after the other was forced back she grew desperate, and raised her voice in a shrill cry for help.

"Help! Help! Murder! Thieves! He-l-p!"

"My dear, good girl!" exclaimed the Murderer blankly, overcome with amazement, and allowing himself to be once more seized in a detaining grasp, while Esmeralda poured the vials of her wrath upon him.

"How dare you call me names! It's a horsewhip you'll be feeling on your back for this, once my father is here. I'll hold you tight till he comes!"

The stranger looked at her, tried to speak, choked hopelessly, and was just attempting a stammering, "You are really most—complimentary!" when the sound of flying footsteps came from above, and Bridgie rushed headlong down the staircase. Poor Bridgie, what a sight was that which met her eye! In the middle of the hall stood the figure of the tall Englishman, his face all sparkling with fun, his arms hanging slack by his sides, while Esmeralda clasped him in close embrace, reiterating shrilly—

"I'll hold you tight! I'll hold you tight!"

"For pity's sake, Esmeralda, let go of him this minute!" she cried, rushing to the rescue, and laying soothing hands upon her sister's shoulder. "There's nothing to be frightened at, dear; it's just that wicked Pat, who ought to be destroyed for his pains. It's no ghost, darling. See, now, he's laughing at you. Ghosts don't laugh! He's nothing but a man after all!"

"He's a thief! He was trying to get the things out of the cabinet. I am holding him until father comes, so that he may give him in charge!" gasped Esmeralda wildly; and Hilliard looked from one sister to the other with eyes dancing with amusement.

"I'm neither ghost nor thief, as Major O'Shaughnessy will testify when he arrives. I'm really exceedingly sorry to have made such an unfortunate impression, but I came on the most innocent errand. I am staying with Mr Trelawney, and your father was kind enough to offer to lend me a mount for to-morrow. We thought of going for a long ride in the morning, so—"

Esmeralda's hands fell to her sides. The commonplace explanation did more than a hundred protestations, and a remembrance of the Major's rhapsodies over the handsome young Englishman whom he had met but a week before was still fresh in her mind. She stepped back, but the light in her eyes gleamed more threateningly than before, as with tragic attitude she turned towards the staircase. On the lowest step crouched Pixie, all eyes and gaping mouth; on the third Mademoiselle clasped her hands, and wagged her head from side to side, as if calling someone to witness that she at least was innocent of offence; from between the banisters peered a red, questioning face, audacious, yet vaguely alarmed.

"Patrick O'Shaughnessy," said Esmeralda in an awful voice, "you shall pay for this evening's work!" and at that, audacity triumphed, and Pat retorted sharply—

"But not with the racket, me dear, for ye did howl after all. We heard you right up in the schoolroom. You're not the hero you thought yourself, to mistake an innocent gentleman for a midnight assassin."

"Pat, be quiet!" interrupted Bridgie sharply, then turned to the stranger with that winsome smile which was her greatest charm. "You've been a schoolboy yourself, and know the ways of them. My brother never rests out of mischief, and he dared my sister Joan to walk the round of the Castle in the dark. She was dressed up as you see, and he had seen you down here in your white coat, and thought maybe you would each be startled by the sight of the other."

"And at first she wouldn't go at all, and was only laughing at him for his pains, but Pat said Christmas Eve and Hallowe'en were all the same, and that if a girl went alone by herself in the moonlight she would see the spirit of her future h—-" cried Pixie in one breathless sentence. In her opinion Bridgie's explanation had been singularly inadequate, and she was filled with indignation at the babel of sounds which drowned her conclusion. Bridgie was seized with a paroxysm of coughing, Mademoiselle with admirable promptitude knocked an old metal cup from a bracket, and sent it clanging to the floor, and Pat cried shrilly—

"See a spook! She was dressed all in white, and you said yourself it was a good setting for a ghost story! It was yourself that put it in my head!"

"I believe you are right. I certainly did make that remark," said the stranger obligingly. For some reason or other his colour had decidedly heightened during the last few moments, and he looked at Esmeralda with a quick, embarrassed glance, as if afraid to meet her eyes. She was flushed like himself, a beautiful young fury, with eyes ablaze, and lips set in a hard, straight line. Propitiation was plainly hopeless at the moment, and he was not so foolish as to attempt the impossible. This was evidently "Beauty O'Shaughnessy," of whom he had heard so much, and, to judge by his own experience, his friends' accounts of the eccentricities of the family were no whit exaggerated. The dear little girl with the sweet eyes was plainly the eldest sister, since she took upon herself to perform the honours of the house, and he was thankful to follow her towards the fireplace, leaving the belligerents at the end of the hall.

"I'm exceedingly sorry to have caused such an alarm! Please make my peace with your sister. I am afraid, if she was not prepared to see me, my actions must have seemed sadly suspicious," he began apologetically; but Bridgie stopped him with uplifted hand, and a queenliness of manner which sat charmingly upon her slight figure.

"Indeed you were not to blame at all, and there is no need to give it another thought. You have had bad weather for your visit, but I hope there is a change to-night. The Major will be delighted that you took him at his word, and Dandy will carry you like a feather. Here he is at last, to welcome you himself."

The Major came forward as she spoke, calling out welcomes from afar, and holding out his hand in hospitable Irish greeting. He was all smiles and superlatives, charmed that Mr Hilliard had called, overjoyed to give him a mount, delighted that he had already made the acquaintance of "me children," beamingly unconscious that there was trouble in the air, and persistent in summoning Esmeralda to his side.

"What do you think of that for an impromptu costume? All made out of a couple of sheets, me dear fellow, and at a moment's notice. Quite a display we had this night, with the whole lot of them got up to match; but this child is the only one that kept it on. Me daughter Joan! Esmeralda, for short. Mr Geoffrey Hilliard!"

Hilliard bowed deeply. Esmeralda drooped her eyelids, and the Major chuckled afresh at "the spirit of the girl!"

"A shame to waste such sweetness on the desert air, isn't it, Hilliard? That's what she says herself, and there's nothing for it but to give my consent to a party on New Year's Eve. A man's not master of himself when he has three daughters, but you must give us the pleasure of welcoming you with the rest of our guests. The Trelawneys will be here to a man, and you must come over with them. Esmeralda says she is fatigued with meeting the same people over and over again, so she'll be delighted to see you. Won't you now, Esmeralda? Give your own invitation to Mr Hilliard."

"Indeed, father, we have scarcely got the length of invitations. It was just an idea we were thinking over, and at the best it will be a poor country affair. If Mr Hilliard is accustomed to London, 'twould be but a bore to him to join us."

It was evident that Esmeralda was by no means anxious to count the stranger among her guests. Having shown herself to him in a ridiculous and unbecoming light, she had no wish to pursue the acquaintance, and the glance which accompanied the words was even more eloquent than themselves.

"Don't dare to come here again!" said the haughty eyes. "Don't imagine you will get the laugh over me," said the haughty head, and Geoffrey Hilliard read the signals, and smiled unperturbed—a happy, self- confident smile.

"I assure Miss O'Shaughnessy that I should be honoured by an invitation," he said blandly, "if I may accept in advance. Nothing will give me greater pleasure than to join your gathering."



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

BRIDGIE'S CONFESSION.

After Mr Hilliard's departure, Mademoiselle was treated to an exhibition of what was known in the family as "Esmeralda's tantrums." Hardly had her father turned from the door than she had rushed towards him, and begun pouring out the story of her wrongs. Eyes flashed, head tossed, arms waving about in emphatic declamation, little foot tapped the floor all a-quiver with excitement, while Pixie stood in the background faithfully imitating each gesture, and Pat gazed at the ceiling with an expression of heart-broken innocence. Esmeralda called upon all present to witness that she was despised and ridiculed by the members of her own family; that by this evening's work she had been made the laughing-stock of the county; and announced her intention of leaving home by the first train that steamed out of the station. She would earn her own living, and if necessary, wander barefoot through the world, rather than submit any longer to insults from her own kith and kin, and when she died a beggar's death, and lay stretched in a pauper's grave, they might remember her words, and forgive themselves if they could!

The invective was originally directed against Pat alone, but as she warmed to her work it grew ever more comprehensive, until at last it seemed as though the whole household were in conspiracy against her. Then suddenly the climax was touched and passed; the last stage of all was announced by a tempest of tears, and the Major tugged miserably at his moustache, nerving himself to the task most difficult in the world to his easy-going nature,—that of finding fault!

"Pat, ye rascal, what's this I hear about you? Mark my words, now. I'll not have your sisters made the subject for practical jokes! If you can't keep yourself out of mischief, I'll find a way to occupy you with something you'd like worse. Can I have no peace in me own home for the complaints of you and your doings? If ye can't carry yourself as a gentleman, I'll apprentice ye to a trade, and wash me hands of you once for all. Mind what I'm telling ye, for there's truth in it! Will I be giving him a punishment now, Esmeralda? Is it your wish I should punish him?"

"It is so! And the harder the better!" sobbed Esmeralda; and the Major heaved a sigh of ponderous dimensions.

"Ye hear that, Patrick? Listen to that, now, and see your sister in tears, and think shame to yourself on a good Christmas Eve. And now I've the trouble of punishing you into the bargain. What will I do with him, Esmeralda? Will I send him off to his bed before Jack comes home?"

And then a pretty thing happened, for among the chorus of groans which greeted this suggestion, Esmeralda's "No, no!" sounded shrillest of all, and off she rushed to Pat's side in a whirlwind of repentance.

"No, no! Not that! He would be so disappointed. He must see Jack. I won't have him punished after all, father. It's Christmas-time, and he's sorry already. Tell the Major you are sorry, Pat, and I'll shake hands and say no more."

"I'm sorry, sir, there's been such a stupid row," said Pat truthfully enough; but when his father turned away with a sigh of relief, he put his arm round his sister and gave her a bear-like hug.

"What did you howl about, silly?" he asked affectionately. "When you've had time to cool down you will think it the finest joke of the year. And you so well plucked, too, holding on like grim death, for all his struggles. You ought to be proud instead of sorry. Look here, now, you shall have the racket after all! I won't have you the loser for your dealings with me. I'll give it to you at once, if you'll be troubled to come to my room!"

Then Esmeralda cried, "Oh, Pat, me darlin'!" and Pat hung on to her arms, crying, "Hold me tight! Hold me tight!" at which she blushed and tugged his curly locks, and off they went together, laughing, squabbling, protesting; sworn enemies, dearest of friends!

Jack arrived in due course, and a happier Christmas party than that assembled round the breakfast-table at Knock Castle next morning it would have been hard to find. Each one had provided presents for the others, and if they were of infinitesimal value, they were apparently none the less valued by the recipients. Mademoiselle thought she had never seen anything more charming, than the manner in which Pixie presented, and the Major received, a solitary bone stud for his collar, amidst the acclamations of an admiring family.

"A happy Christmas to ye, father darlin', and many happy returns!" said Pixie in deep sweet accents, as she pressed the tiny packet into his hand, and blinked at it with an air of elaborate indifference. "It's just a little present I was buying you, thinking maybe you would like to wear something I'd chosen meself."

"And now what can this be next?" soliloquised the Major, untwisting the paper with tenderest fingers and an air of absorption seldom seen on his merry features. When wrapping number two was undone, and the stud was disclosed in all its glory, he appeared almost dizzy with rapture, holding it out on an outstretched palm, and gazing at it with incredulous joy. "Did ever anything fall out so lucky as that? The very thing I was breaking my heart over not an hour ago. Somebody eats my studs—I'm sure they do—and what are left Esmeralda steals for her cuffs. But I'll be even with anybody who dares to take this one from my drawer. Thank you, my piccaninny. It's a broth of a stud, and you could not have given me anything I liked better."

"I hope it may never break on you when you are in a hurry," said Pixie politely, and with sundry memories of past occasions when the Major had dressed for a function, while the sounds of his groans and lamentations had been heard without the portals of his dressing-room.

Esmeralda presented Bridgie with a card of hat-pins; Bridgie had knitted woollen gloves for the boys, and the most exciting presentations were those which Mademoiselle had thoughtfully brought with her—dainty lace ties for the sisters, which were received with a rapture almost too great for words, and the grey Suede gloves which were Jack's happy inspiration. Dark and threatening as the day appeared, on went gloves and tie, when it was time to start for church, and Esmeralda at least was proudly conscious of her stylish appearance, when half-way along the muddy lane the Trelawneys' carriage bowled past, and the laughing eyes of the stranger met hers once more. The mud flew from the carriage- wheels, and she held up her skirts with a great display of grey-gloved hands, and backed up against the hedge, frowning and petulant—my Lady Disdain in every gesture and expression.

Mademoiselle had never before attended a Christmas service in an English church, and though it was impossible to resist some pangs of homesickness, she was still interested and impressed. The little building was tastefully decorated, and the beautiful hymns were sung with delightful heartiness and feeling. The O'Shaughnessys themselves would have constituted a creditable choir, for Pat's still unbroken voice was a joy to hear as he joined in the air with Bridgie and Pixie, the Major rolled out a sonorous bass, Jack sang tenor, while Esmeralda's alto was rich and full as an organ stop. They sang with heart as well as voice, as indeed who can help singing those wonderful words? First, the heralds' call to Christendom to greet the great festival of the year, the birthday of its Lord: "Christians, awake! Salute the happy morn."—It must be a cold heart indeed which does not thrill a response to that summons; then the description of the angelic joy at His coming, "Hark, the herald angels sing"; and last, and perhaps most beautiful of all, the summons to the saints on earth to join in that praise, "Oh, come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord!"

The service passed in a glow of exaltation, and the softening influence continued throughout the long walk home, when the younger members of the family walked on ahead, and the two older girls followed sedately in the rear. Bridgie's eyes glowed as she looked after her "children", Pat and Miles, tall and graceful even in this their hobbledehoy stage, Esmeralda queening it in their midst, and Pixie dancing blissfully through every puddle that came in her way.

"Doesn't it make you rejoice to see them all so well and happy?" she cried fervently. "Last Christmas we were so sad that it seemed as if the sun would never shine again; but mother said she wanted us to be happy, and it would do her heart good to see them to-day. I was thinking about her in church, and asked myself if I had done all I could to keep my charge. She left them in my care, you know, for I had to take her place, and on days like this I feel as if I had to answer to her for all that is wrong. Pixie is happy at school, and it's lovely to know you, and feel that you will be good to the darling; Jack is getting on with his work, and the boys and Esmeralda quarrel less than they used to do. She's the one I am most anxious about, for she is not satisfied with this quiet life, and her head will be turned with flattery before many years are over. Did you notice that young Englishman last night, and the way he fixed his eyes upon her? If he comes over here flirting with her, what will I do, Therese? He is here for a week or two only, and after he has gone she will feel duller than ever, poor creature. I wonder what I had better do?"

"Mees Esmeralda seems to me exceedingly able to take care of herself," remarked Mademoiselle quietly. "I don't think you need distress yourself about her in this instance. Monsieur 'Illiard has had the misfortune to make a bad impression, by placing her in an uncomfortable position, and have you not observed the air with which she has bowed to him to-day as he passed? It was not, to say the least of it, encouraging."

Bridgie laughed,—a little, tender, indulgent laugh.

"But it was very pretty all the same, and sort of encouraging discouraging, don't you think? If I were in his place I don't think I should be exactly depressed. It was like a challenge thrown down before him, and from his look I believe he means to accept it too! Ah dear, it's a great responsibility to have a beauty for a sister! I am in terror every time a young man comes to the house, in case he should fall in love with her."

"There is more than one girl in the house, however, and I know vich of the two would be my choice, if I were, as you say, a young man myself," returned Mademoiselle sturdily. Bridgie's utter unconsciousness of her own claims to attention filled her at once with admiration and impatience, and she could not resist putting her feelings into words. "Does it never give you any fear in case one should fall in love with you instead?"

"No, never; how could they when she was near?" cried Bridgie fervently, and then suddenly flushed all over her delicate face and began a stammering explanation. "At least, that's not quite true. There was one man—I never told anyone about it before, and indeed there's not much to tell. Joan and I went to stay ten days with some friends at the other side of the county, nearly a year ago last autumn, and he was staying there too. He was not like other men I had met, or I thought he was different. He was graver than most young men, though he liked fun all the same, and when we talked it seemed as if we shared the same thoughts. It was not long after mother's death, and I was feeling very lonely, but I didn't feel lonely when I was with him. On the third day we went a picnic, and I drove in a wagonette with the ladies, and he walked with the men. Just as we overtook them the horses took fright, and began to gallop down a hill. We thought for a few minutes that we should certainly be thrown out at the bottom, but the driver managed to pull up in time, and we were none the worse except for the fright. The men came racing along to see what had happened, and his face was as white as death. When he came up he looked straight at me, and at no one else, though his sister was there and several old friends, and he said, 'Thank God!' Only that, but his voice shook as he said it, and he turned away, as if he could not bear any more. And I felt so strange and glad, so happy and proud; all that day I felt as if I were walking on air, but when I went to bed at night I could not sleep, for I realised suddenly what it meant. He was growing fond of me, and I of him; if we were together another week, perhaps he would ask me to marry him and go away to the other end of the world, for he was a soldier—did I tell you that? And I had promised mother to look after the children until they were old enough to manage for themselves. I couldn't break my word, and yet if I stayed on and was nice to him, he might think it was wrong of me to say No. And I was afraid I couldn't help being nice."

The sweet voice broke off suddenly, and Mademoiselle looked into the grey eyes, and thought that the young soldier was to be congratulated both on his own good taste, and on the feelings which he had been fortunate enough to awaken in this best and sweetest of girls.

"Eh bien, and what have you done then?" she inquired eagerly. "It was a difficult position. What have you done?"

"Oh, I did nothing. I came away!" said Bridgie, as simply as if that were not just the most difficult thing she could have done under the circumstances. "The next morning he went out shooting, and the post came in at ten o'clock with a letter from father saying that Pat had fallen from the barn and twisted his ankle. It was very few weeks he did not fall from the barn, as a matter of fact, but it was an excuse, so I said I must go home and nurse him, and they drove me to the station that very afternoon before the men came home."

Mademoiselle drew in her breath, in a gasp of amazement. She looked at Bridgie, and her eyes flashed with eloquent comment. It was so wonderful to think of the courage with which this young thing, with the bright, pleasure-loving nature which had come to her as an inheritance, had yet had the courage to deliberately put from her the greatest happiness which she could have known, in order to devote herself to the care of others. The simple, unpretentious manner in which the tale was told, made so light of the incident that it might have involved little or no suffering; but Mademoiselle knew better, and her voice trembled with sympathy as she put the low-toned question—

"And afterwards—did it hurt—did it hurt very much, cherie?"

"I think it did. I cried a great deal for several nights when I thought of the good times they were all having together; but I knew it would have been worse later on, and I comforted myself with that. Besides, what is the use of giving up a thing at all if one can't do it cheerfully? It would have been better for me to have married and left home, than to stay, and make them all miserable by moping and looking sad. And they are all such darlings, and so loving and kind. I don't think any other girl ever had such a family as mine!"

"The Major ignores you; the boys worry you to death; my lady Joan orders you about as if she were a queen, and you her servant; only the little Pixie worships you as you deserve to be worshipped," reflected Mademoiselle mentally; but she kept her reflections to herself, and asked another question, the answer to which she was longing to hear with truly feminine curiosity. "And was that all,—the end of everything? What happened next? Have you not heard or seen him since that time?"

The red flew over Bridgie's face, and she smiled—a soft, contented smile.

"I have never seen him—no! Only a month after that he was ordered to India, and sailed almost at once, but he wrote to me before he left. A letter arrived one day in a strange handwriting, but I guessed almost at once that it was from him. He said he had intended to come to Ireland in the spring, and to call at Knock Castle, but that now it would be impossible for some years to come. He said he had enjoyed so much meeting me for those few days, and he hoped I should not altogether forget him while he was away. Would I allow him to write to me now and again, and would I send a photograph for a poor exile to take away to comfort his loneliness? I had a very nice photograph that a friend of father had taken the summer before, and I thought there was no harm in sending him that, and writing a polite little note. It was very short, and I tried not to make it too nice, and I said nothing at all about writing, only just remarked that it would be interesting to receive letters from India," said Bridgie, with a naivete which made Mademoiselle throw up her hands in delight. "He has written to me four times since then, and,"—her eyes began to dance, and a dimple danced mischievously in her cheek—"I enjoy writing to him so much that I answer them the very next day; but it would not be proper to send them so soon, you know, so I put no date, but just lock them away in my desk, and wait for six weeks, or two months before I send them off. Once I waited for three, and then he sent a newspaper. There was nothing in it that could interest me in the least, but it was just a gentle hurry up. I did laugh over that newspaper!"

"Bridgie, Bridgie! this is more serious than I thought. No wonder you look upon new-comers with indifference. I hope they are very interesting, those letters. They must be, I suppose, since you are so eager to reply." But at this Bridgie shook her head, and shrugged her shoulders deprecatingly.

"You are a teacher; perhaps you would call them interesting. For me they are just a trifle instructive! I want to hear about himself, and he describes the country, and the expeditions they make. Don't please think they are love-letters, Therese. They are very, very proper, not in the least affectionate, and my replies are terribly dull. You see I'm in an awkward position, for everything that would be interesting it would not be proper to say, and everything I can say must be uninteresting, for he knows almost nothing of us or of our people."

"And yet you are compelled to answer these 'instructive epistles' the moment they arrive, and he cannot wait patiently to receive your so dull replies. That has only one meaning, my dear, and it will come when he returns home in a few years, and your children are grown up and able to be left. It will come. I am sure it will come!"

"If it is the right thing for me—if it is God's will—yes! it will come, and meanwhile I am very happy. It is good of Him to have given me such a hope in my life," said Bridgie simply; and Mademoiselle's eyes dimmed with sudden tears. Her own nervous, restless spirit was for ever kicking against the pricks, but she was at least honest enough to acknowledge her shortcomings, and the example of this young girl filled her with shame and a humble desire to follow in her footsteps.

"And I am thankful that He has let me know you. You do me good, cherie. I wish to be more like you," she said humbly; and Bridgie opened her great eyes in bewilderment.

"Like me!" she echoed incredulously. "My dear!" The dimple dipped again, and she slipped her hand through Mademoiselle's arm and shook her in playful remonstrance. "Don't you make fun of your hostess, or she'll starve you for your pains. The very idea of clever, accomplished You wanting to be like blundering Irish Me!"



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

"TO SEE THE RUINS!"

"This begins to grow exciting. The plot develops!" said Mademoiselle gaily to herself, when the fifth day of the last week in the year was reached, and Mr Geoffrey Hilliard made his fifth appearance on the scene in transparently accidental-on-purpose manner. On the first day he had been discovered assiduously pumping up the tyres of a bicycle immediately outside the Castle gates; on the second, he was lounging about the village street with an air of boredom which showed that he had exhausted all the objects of interest long before the O'Shaughnessy party passed by on their morning walk; on the third, he paid a formal call in the afternoon and stayed a good two hours by the clock, for which breach of etiquette he was so much concerned that he was compelled to come again the next day to apologise, and hope the ladies were not fatigued. Bridgie smiled polite reassurements, but Esmeralda lay back in her seat and naughtily yawned, as though in protest against her sister's words. She affected to conceal her weariness, but it was a transparent pretence, and the young fellow's eyes twinkled with amusement. Since the moment of their first meeting there had been this pretence of antagonism, this playing at fighting on the girl's part; but, as Bridgie had foretold, the man seemed to find it rather an encouragement than otherwise, and his smile was never more bright and self-confident than after an exhibition like the present.

"Miss Joan seems to have suffered," he said boldly. "I feel truly guilty; but won't you allow me to remedy the mischief? If I might make a suggestion, it's a perfect winter afternoon, and you promised to show me the remains of that old ruin in your grounds. Don't you think that half an hour's walk before tea would freshen you up?"

"I detest ruins; they are so dull," said Esmeralda ungraciously; but Mr Hilliard still continued to smile and to look at her in expectant fashion, and presently, almost against her will, as it seemed, she rose from her chair and moved across the room. "Of course, if you really want to see them! It will only take a few minutes. Come then, Pixie! You were asking me to come out. It will do you good to come too."

Bridgie and Mademoiselle exchanged a quick glance of amusement at the look of disgust which passed over the visitor's face, and which all his politeness was not able to conceal; but Pixie pranced after her sister with willing step, for it had never entered into her heart to believe it possible that there could exist a living creature unto whom her society could be otherwise than rapturously welcome. In the cloak-room off the hall she put on two odd shoes, the two which came first to hand, and a piebald sealskin jacket, which, according to tradition, had descended from a great-aunt, and which was known in the household as "The jacket," and worn indiscriminately by whosoever might happen to need a warm wrap.

The effect of this costume, finished off by an old bowler hat, was so weird and grotesque that at the first moment of beholding it Hilliard thought it must surely be a joke designed for his benefit; but the air of unconsciousness worn by both girls saved him from making a false move, and he speedily forgot all about Pixie in admiration of her sister. Whatever Esmeralda wore, it seemed as if this were the dress of all others to show off her beauty to the best advantage; and the grey golf-cape and knitted cap, set carelessly over her smoke-like locks, appeared at once the ideal garments for a winter promenade. Pixie slipped her arm underneath the cloak to hang on to her sister's arm, and the three set off together across the snow-bound park.

"I suppose you know a great deal about ruins, since you are so much interested in ours," said Esmeralda, as an opening to the conversation. "People are always interested in things they understand. That's the only reason why I should like to be clever and learned—it would make life so much more satisfying. It doesn't amuse me in the least to see old walls, and bits of pillars sticking out of the earth. I'd pull them all down and build something new in their place if I had the chance, but people who understand are quite different. Some people came here once on a picnic from Dublin, and father gave them permission to see over the grounds. Of course it rained, but they all stood round on the damp, soaking grass while an old gentleman gave a lecture about that miserable little ruin. He said something about the shape of the windows, and they all took notes and sketches and snapshots, as if they had never seen anything so wonderful in their lives. There is a bit of a pillar two yards high. He prosed away about that until I had to yawn, but they seemed to like it. Some of them were quite young too. There was a girl rather like Bridgie, with such a pretty hat!" Esmeralda heaved a sigh of melancholy recollection. "She stood there and let the rain soak through the ribbons while she sketched the stupid old things. I envied her so! I thought, 'Why can't I be interested in ruins too, and then I should have something to think about, and to amuse myself with when the time feels so long?'"

"Does the time seem long to you, then? Do you find it dull over here?" asked Hilliard, in a tone that was almost tender in its anxious solicitude; and Esmeralda heaved a sigh of funereal proportions, delighted to find herself supplied with a listener ready to sympathise with her woes. A home audience is proverbially stoical, and after the jeers and smiles of brothers and sisters, it was a refreshing change to wake a note of distress at the very beginning of a conversation. She became suddenly conscious of a feeling of acute enjoyment, but endeavoured to look pensive, as befitted the occasion, and rolled her grey eyes upward with eloquent sadness.