“Look at this, Harry,” said Kate, as he came into the room where she was preparing breakfast. “Read that note; it bears upon what I was telling you about last night.”

“What a scoundrel!” cried Harry, as his eye ran over the lines. “He scarcely seems to know whether the better game will be menace or entreaty.”

“He inclines to menace, however,” for he says, “The shame of an exposure, which certainly you would not be willing to incur.’”

“What may that mean?”

“To connect my name, perhaps, with that of my poor old grand-father; to talk of me as the felon’s granddaughter. I am not going to disown the relationship.”

“And this fellow says he will arrive to-night to take your answer. He has courage, certainly!”

“Come, come, Harry, don’t look so fiercely. Remember, first of all, he is, or he was, a priest.”

“No reason that I shouldn’t throw him over the Clunk rock!” said Luttrell, doggedly.

“I think we might feel somewhat more benevolently towards him,” said she, with a malicious twinkle of the eye, “seeing how generously he offers to go all the way to Italy to see Sir Within, and explain to him that my marriage with Mr. Ladarelle was a mockery, and that I am still open to a more advantageous offer.”

“How can you talk of this so lightly?”

“If I could not, it would break my heart!” said she, and her lip trembled with agitation. She leaned her head upon her hand for some minutes in deep thought, and then, as though having made up her mind how to act, said, “I wish much, Cousin Harry, that you would see this man for me, only——”

“Only what?”

“Well, I must say it, I am afraid of your temper.”

“The Luttrell temper?” said he, with a cold smile.

“Just so. It reaches the boiling-point so very quickly, that one is not rightly prepared for the warmth till he is scalded.”

“Come, I will be lukewarm to-day—cold as the spring well yonder, if you like. Give me my instructions. What am I to do?”

“I shall be away all day. I have a long walk before me, and a good deal to do, and I want you to receive this man. He will soon moderate his tone when he finds that I am not friendless; he will be less exacting in his demands when he sees that he is dealing with a Luttrell. Ascertain what is his menace, and what the price of it.”

“You are not going to buy him off, surely?” cried Harry, angrily.

“I would not willingly bring any shame on the proud name I have borne even on sufferance. I know well how your father felt about these things, and I will try to be loyal to his memory, though I am never again to hear him praise me for it. Mr. Cane already wrote to me about this man, and advised that some means might be taken to avoid publicity. Indeed, he offered his own mediation to effect its settlement, but I was angry at the thought of such submission, and wrote back, I fear, a hasty, perhaps ill-tempered answer. Since then Cane has not written, but a letter might come any moment—perhaps to-day. The post will be here by one o’clock; wait for its arrival, and do not see the priest till the letters have come. Open them till you find Cane’s, and when you are in possession of what he counsels, you will be the better able to deal with this fellow.”

“And is all your correspondence at my mercy?”

“All!”

“Are you quite sure that you are prudent in such frankness?”

“I don’t know that it will tempt you to any very close scrutiny. I expect an invoice about some rapeseed, I look for a small package of spelling-books, I hope to receive some glasses of vaccine matter to inoculate with, and tidings, perhaps, of a roll of flannel that a benevolent visitor promised me for my poor.”

“And no secrets?”

“Only one: a sketch of Life on Arran, which I sent to a London periodical, but which is to be returned to me, as too dull, or too melancholy, or too something or other for publication. I warn you about this, as the editor has already pronounced sentence upon it.”

“May I read it, Kate?”

“Of course. I shall be very proud to have even one to represent the public I aspired to. Read it by all means, and tell me when I come back that it was admirable, and that the man that rejected it was a fool. If you can pick up any especial bit for praise or quotation, commit it to memory, and you can’t think how happy you’ll make me, for I delight in laudation, and I do—get—so very—little of it,” said she, pausing after each word, with a look of comic distress that was indescribably droll; and yet there was a quivering of the voice and a painful anxiety in her eye that seemed to say the drollery was but a coyer to a very different sentiment It was in this more serious light that Harry regarded her, and his look was one of deepest interest. “You have your instructions now!” said she, turning away to hide the flush his steady gaze had brought to her cheek; “and so, good-by!”

“I’d much rather go with you, Kate,” said he, as she moved away.

“No, no,” said she, smiling, “you will be better here! There is plenty of work for each of us. Good-by!”

Harry’s wish to have accompanied her thus thwarted, by no means rendered him better disposed towards him who was the cause of the disappointment, and as he paced the room alone he conned over various modes of “clearing off scores” with this fallen priest. “I hope the fellow will be insolent! How I wish he may be exacting and defiant!” As he muttered this below his breath, he tried to assume a manner of great humility—something so intensely submissive as might draw the other on to greater pretension. “I think I’ll persuade him that we are at his mercy—absolutely at his mercy!” mattered he. But had he only glanced at his face in the glass as he said it, he would have seen that his features were scarcely in accordance with the mood of one asking for quarter. The boat which should bring the letters was late, and his impatience chafed and angered him. Three several times had he rehearsed to himself the mock humility with which he meant to lure on the priest to his destruction; he had planned all, even to the veriest detail of the interview, where he should sit, where he would place his visitor, the few bland, words he would utter to receive him; but when he came to think of the turning-point of the discussion, of that moment when, all reserve abandoned, he should address the man in the voice of one whose indignation had been so long pent up that he could barely control himself to delay his vengeance,—when he came to this, he could plan no more. Passion swept all his intentions, to the winds, and his mind became a chaos.

At last the post arrived, but brought only one letter. It was in Cane’s writing. He opened it eagerly, and read:

“Dear Madam,—I am happy to inform you that you are not likely to be further molested by applications from the priest O’Rafferty. He no sooner heard that young Mr. Luttrell was alive, and in Ireland, than he at once changed his tone of menace for one of abject solicitation. He came here yesterday to entreat me to use my influence with you to forgive him his part in an odious conspiracy, and to bestow on him a trifle—a mere trifle—to enable him to leave the country, never to return to it.

“I took the great—I hope not unpardonable—-liberty to act for you in this matter, and gave him five pounds, for which I took a formal receipt, including a pledge of his immediate departure. Might I plead, in justification of the authority I thus assumed, my fears that if young Mr. Luttrell should, by any mischance, have met this man, the very gravest disasters might have ensued. His family traits of rashness and violence being, I am informed, only more strikingly developed by his life and experiences as a sailor.”

Harry read over this passage three several times, pausing and pondering over each word of it.

“Indeed!” muttered he. “Is this the character I have brought back with me? Is it thus my acquaintances are pleased to regard me? The ungovernable tempers of our race have brought a heavy punishment on us, when our conduct in every possible contingency exposes us to such comment as this! I wonder is this the estimate Kate forms of us? Is it thus she judges the relatives who have shared their name with her?”

To his first sense of disappointment that the priest should escape him, succeeded a calmer, better feeling—that of gratitude that Kate should be no more harassed by these cares. Poor girl! had she not troubles enough to confront in life without the terror of a painful publicity! He read on:

“Of Mr. Ladarelle himself you are not likely to hear more. He has been tried and convicted of swindling, in France, and sentenced to five years’ reclusion, with labour. His father, I learn, is taking steps to disinherit him, and there is no wrong he has done you without its full meed of punishment.

“It was quite possible that he and his accomplice, O’Rorke, might have escaped had they not quarrelled, and each was the chief instrument in the conviction of the other. The scene of violent invective and abuse that occurred between them, exceeded, it is said, even the widest latitude of a French criminal court.

“I thought to have concluded my letter here, but I believe I ought to inform you, and in the strictest confidence, that we had a visit from young Mr. Luttrell on Wednesday last. We were much struck by the resemblance he bore to his late father in voice and manners, as well as in face and figure. When I hinted to him—I only hinted passingly—certain scruples of yours about retaining the Arran property, he declared, and in such a way as showed a decided resolve, that, come what might, the estate should not revert to him. ‘It was yours,’ he said, ‘and it was for you to dispose of it.’ When he put the question on the ground of a dishonour to his father’s memory, I forbore to press it further. The Luttrell element in his nature showed itself strongly, and warned me to avoid any inopportune pressure.

“You will, I suspect, find it exceedingly difficult to carry out your intentions in this matter, and I hope you will allow me to entreat a reconsideration of the whole project; all the more, since every information I have obtained as to the chance of employment in Australia is decidedly unfavourable. Except for the mechanic, it is said, there is now no demand. The governess and tutor market is greatly overstocked, and persons of education are far less in request than strong-bodied labourers.

“I hope sincerely I may be able to dissuade you from what I cannot but call a rash scheme. In the first place, it will not accomplish what you intended regarding the Arran property; and secondly, it will as Surely involve yourself in grave difficulty and hardship. I know well how much may be expected from what you call your ‘courage,’ but ‘courage’ that will brave great dangers will also occasionally succumb to small daily privations and miseries. There is no doubt whatever how you would behave in the great trial. It is in meeting the slights and injuries that are associated with humble fortune that I really feel you will be unequal.

“Should you, however, persist in your resolve, I shall be able to secure you a passage to Melbourne under favourable circumstances, as a distant relative of my wife’s, Captain Crowther, of the Orion, will sail from Liverpool on Thursday, the seventh of next month. This gives you still seventeen days; might I hope for such reflection as will induce you to forego a step so full of danger, present and future? Indeed, from Captain Crowther himself I have heard much that ought to dissuade you from the attempt. He went so far as to say yesterday, that he believed he had already brought back to England nearly every one of those he had taken out with hopes of literary employment.

“I think I know what you would reply to this. I have only to call upon my memory of our last conversation to remind me of the daring speech you made when I ventured to hint at the difficulty of finding employment; and once more, my dear Miss Luttrell, let me entreat you to remember, you have not the habits, the strength, the temperament, that go with menial labour. You have yourself admitted to me that your early sorrows and sufferings are nightmares to you in your sleep—that you are never feverish or ill that they do not recur—that when your head wanders, it is about the days of your childish troubles; surely it is not with habits of luxury and refinement you hope to combat these enemies?

“Do not persist in believing that what you call your peasant nature is a garment only laid aside, but which can be resumed at any moment. Take my word for it, there is not a trace of it left in you!

“If your desire for independence must be complied with, why not remain and achieve it at home? Mrs. Cane is ready and willing to serve you in any way; and it will be a sincere pleasure to us both if we can acquit towards you any portion of the debt we have long owed your late uncle.

“I wish much you would consult Mr. Luttrell on this subject; indeed, he would have a right to feel he ought to be consulted upon it; and, although his experiences of life may not be large or wide, his near relationship to you gives him a claim to have his opinion cared for.

“You will see from all this insistance, my dear Miss Luttrell, how eager I am to dissuade you from a step which, if taken, will be the great disaster of your whole life. Remember that you are about to act not alone for the present, but for the events and contingencies which are to occur years hence.”

The letter wound up with many assurances of esteem, and most cordial offers of every service in the writer’s power. A postscript added, “On reconsideration, I see that you must absolutely speak to Mr. Luttrell about your project, since in my notes I find that he positively declines to accept your gift of the Arran estate except in exchange for the larger property in Roscommon. In all my varied experiences, two such clients as yourself and your cousin have never occurred to me.”

It was as he was finishing the reading of this letter for the third time, that Harry Luttrell felt a hand laid gently on his shoulder. He turned, and saw Kate standing behind him. Her cheek was flushed with the fresh glow of exercise, and her hair, partly disordered, fell in heavy masses beneath her bonnet on her neck and shoulders, while her full lustrous eyes shone with a dazzling brilliancy. It was one of those moments in which every trait that formed her beauty had attained its most perfect development. Harry stared at her with a wondering admiration.

“Well, Sir?” cried she, as if asking what his look implied—“well, Sir?” But, unable to maintain the cool indifference she had attempted, and feeling that her cheek was growing hot and red, she added, quickly, “What have you done?—have you seen him?—has he been here?” He stared on without a word, his eager eyes seeming to drink in delight without slaking, till she turned away abashed and half vexed. “I don’t suppose you heard my question,” said she, curtly.

“Of course I heard it, but it was of what I saw I was thinking, not of what I heard.”

“Which, after all, was not quite polite, Harry.”

“Politeness was not much in my thoughts either,” said he. “I couldn’t believe any one could be so beautiful.”

“What a nice rough compliment, what a dear piece of savage flattery! What would you say, Sir, if you had seen me, in my days of finery, decked out in lace and jewels, Harry? And, dear me, don’t they make a wondrous difference! I used to come down to dinner at Dalradern at times powdered, or with my hair in short curls, À la SÉvignÉ, and my costume all to suit; and you should have seen the worshipful homage of old Sir Within, as he presented me with my bouquet, and kissed the extreme tips of my fingers. Oh dear, what a delightful dream it was, all of it!”

“What a coquette you must be! What a coquette you are!” muttered he, savagely.

“Of course I am, Harry. Do you think I would deny it? Coquetry is the desire to please, as a means of self-gratification. I accept the imputation.”

“It means intense vanity, though,” said he, roughly.

“And why not vanity, any less than courage or compassion, or a dozen other things one prides himself on having?”

“I think you are saying these things to vex me, Kate. I’ll swear you don’t feel them.”

“No matter what I feel, Sir. I am certainly vain enough to believe I can keep that for myself. Tell me of this man. Have you seen him?”

“No, he has not come; he will not come.”

“Not come! And why?”

“Here’s a letter from Cane will explain it all; a letter which I suppose you would not have let me read had you seen it first. You said you had no secrets, but it turns out that you had.”

“What do you mean?” said she, snatching the letter eagerly from him.

“I read every word of it three times. I know it almost by heart,” said he, as he watched her running her eyes over the letter.

“When I said I had no secrets,” said she, gravely, “I meant with regard to my past life. Of that assuredly I have told you all, freely and candidly. The future is my own, at least so far as what I intend by it.”

“And you persist in this scheme?”

“Don’t look so sternly—don’t speak so harshly, Harry. Let me enjoy the good news of Cane’s letter, in so far as this priest is concerned. It is a great weight off my heart to know that my name is not to be bandied about by gossips and newsmongers—that name your poor father treasured with such care, and for whose safeguard he would have made any sacrifice.”

“Tell me you will give up this scheme, Kate; tell me you will make Arran your home,” cried he, earnestly. “I mustn’t tell you an untruth, Harry. Arran is yours.”

“And if it be mine,” said he, seizing her hand, “share it with me, Kate. Yes, dearest, be mine also. Oh, do not turn away from me. I know too well how little I resemble those gifted and graceful people your life has been passed with. I am a rough sailor, but remember, Kate, the heart of a gentleman beats under this coarse jacket. I am a Luttrell still.”

“And the Luttrell’s have passed their ordeal, Harry. Three generations of them married peasants to teach their proud hearts humility. Go practise the lesson your fathers have bought so dearly; it will be better than to repeat it. As for me, my mind is made up. Hear me out, Harry. I promised my poor old grandfather to aid him on his trial. Illness overtook me, and I was in a raging fever on the day he was sentenced. It was not for months after that I was able to go to him, and the poor old man, who had believed himself forgotten and deserted, no sooner saw me than he forgave all, and pressed me to his heart with rapturous affection. I told him then—I gave him my solemn pledge—that so soon as I had arranged certain details here, I would follow him across the seas. There are many ways by which a resident can lighten the pains and penalties of a prisoner. I learned these, and know all about them, and I have determined to pay off some part of the debt I owe him, for he loved me—he loved me more than all the world. The very crime for which he is suffering was committed on my behalf; he thought this property should have been mine, and he was ready to stake his life upon it.”

“And must he be more to you than me?” said Harry, sadly.

“I must pay what I owe, Harry, before I incur a new debt,” said she, with a smile of deep melancholy.

“Why did I ever come here? What evil destiny ever brought me to know you!” cried he, passionately. “A week ago—one short week—and I had courage to go anywhere, dare anything, and now the whole world is a blank to me.”

“Where are you going? Don’t go away, Harry. Sit down, like a dear, kind cousin, and hear me. First of all, bear in mind people cannot always do what is pleasantest in life——”

A heavy bang of the door stopped her, and he was gone!