The room into which Winifred led me was a model of neatness. The curtain upon the window, the cover upon the small bureau were of snowy-white; and the counterpane upon the bed was blue-and-white patchwork—a piece of art in its way.

"Granny did it all herself before she got blind," Winifred explained. "It was for my mother; but my mother never came here, and so I got it."

She handed me a chair as she spoke,—a high-backed, stiff wooden one, evidently of rustic manufacture; and, mounting upon another chair, she reached to the top of a rude wardrobe, or press, which stood in the corner. Thence she brought down a deal box, which she placed carefully on the floor, seating herself on a low stool beside it.

"I'll give you three guesses what is in there," she said, looking up at me with her bright smile.

"Your three guesses remind me of Portia's three caskets," I answered.

Winifred shook her head slowly. Evidently her knowledge did not extend to Shakespeare.

"Portia's caskets sound pretty," she remarked; "but I don't know what they are."

"I must tell you that pretty story some time. Her suitors were so many that she declared that only he who chose the right casket should win her. Each suitor had to guess. The first of those caskets was gold—"

"Oh, you knew before!" interrupted the girl.

"Knew what?"

"I don't understand how you could have guessed so quickly."

"But I have guessed nothing," I said. "I only mentioned that the first casket was of gold."

"Oh, I thought you meant to tell me in that way that you knew what was in my box!" Winifred explained.

I stared and she suddenly withdrew the cover. My eyes were almost dazzled.

"There is gold in my box,—real pure gold," said the young girl.

And gold there was, amazing both in quality and quantity.

Winifred saw my astonishment, with innocent triumph.

"Look at that!" she said, detaching from the mass of shining metal a crown, which she held up for my inspection. While I looked she drew forth several other articles, all of peculiar make but of dainty and delicate design, some more richly wrought than others. There were collars, brooches, rings, bracelets,—thin bracelets, such as were worn in the olden days by kings and warriors.

"My dear," I said, "this is wonderful—like some Irish edition of the 'Arabian Nights.' I feel as if I had got into the cave of the Forty Thieves or some such place. Where on earth did those things come from?"

"I can't answer questions," Winifred said; "but I wanted you to see them, they are so beautiful and so very old. Occasionally I take them out to play with them."

"Costly playthings!" I murmured. "And since they are so old, how did they come to be so bright?"

Winifred grew red as she explained:

"Somebody polishes them with stuff to make them bright, but you mustn't ask who."

"But, my dear child, I ought to tell you that I know who has given you these things," I said gravely.

The flush faded from the girl's face, leaving it very pale.

"Ah, I must have betrayed his secret, then!" she cried. "He trusted me and I was false!"

"You have not done so intentionally. I was in the wood one day when you were given a bracelet—"

"Oh, that was the day you fell down! I thought you hadn't seen the bracelet, because you never spoke of it," Winifred said, in such real distress that I was only anxious to comfort her.

"You need not be afraid. Since you trust me so far as to show me these beautiful things, you may also believe that I shall keep the rest of the secret."

"That is different," observed Winifred. "He told me never to tell where I got these things; and now Granny Meehan found out, and you found out too."

"My dear," said I, "there is one thought which occurs to me, and which I must put in words. Bring your stool over and sit near me."

She did so, her dark curls almost resting on my lap.

"My thought is this. How does the person who gives you all these treasures procure them?"

She shook her head.

"You promised not to ask questions!" she exclaimed.

"Nor am I asking any which I expect you to answer," I said quietly. "But are you sure that these ornaments are honestly come by?"

Winifred sprang to her feet, her face crimson as upon that day when I had made the blunder about Granny's sight.

"For shame!" she cried—"for shame! How could you think of such a thing? Niall, who is so good and who is giving his whole life for one purpose!"

I did feel unaccountably ashamed of myself.

"You must remember that I do not know Niall," I argued.

"Do you think evil of people without even knowing them?" Winifred cried impetuously. "If that's the way they do in America, I don't want to go there, and I won't go there."

"It is the way of the world, as you will find when you are older," I replied somewhat sharply; for I was vexed at being put in the wrong by this child. Having been treated with deference by all about her since her infancy, she knew little of the respect due to those who were older; and only such religious training as she had received from Father Owen, with an innate sense of propriety and a natural courtesy, prevented her from being that most objectionable of beings—a spoiled, selfish child.

I saw that Winifred was already ashamed of her vehemence, and I pointed to the stool at my feet.

"Sit down again, little one," I said, "and let me finish what I have to say; for I think it is my duty to speak out."

She obeyed in silence, and after a brief pause I went on:

"This is how it all appears to me, or would appear to any one of experience. The man Niall seems poor, leads a strange, solitary life, and yet he gives you articles of great value. There is, to say the least of it, a mystery as to how he procures them."

Winifred said not a word, but sat still with downcast eyes.

"And, since I am upon the subject," I added, "I may as well tell you that he is not, in my opinion, a suitable companion for you."

"Not a suitable companion!" the girl repeated, raising her eyes to my face in astonishment. "Niall, who has taught me nearly everything I know! Why, if it had not been for him I should have been as ignorant as Moira. I love him as if he were my father."

"He has taught you a great deal that is wild and visionary," I argued. "You know nothing of the realities of life. You are content to lead this wandering, aimless existence, when life has real duties, and, as you must find, real cares and sorrows."

This reproach seemed to touch her; for, with one of those strange flashes of intuition, she seemed at once to catch my meaning.

"But how can Niall help that?" she cried. "He has been very kind to me. He told Granny to teach me my prayers, and took me to Father Owen himself, so that I could go to confession and make my first communion; and he spends his whole life working for me. What should I do without him? I have no one else except dear old Granny, and she is blind."

There was something so pathetic in the way all this was said that, almost involuntarily, the tears came into my eyes. I began to realize that the man had done and was doing his best for the child, but his best was not sufficient; and, sitting there beside that heap of now disregarded treasures, I formed the resolve, in spite of all difficulties, to take the child with me to America. She might return later to be the guardian spirit of this old house and to repay Niall and good Granny Meehan for the devotedness with which they had watched over her childhood. But she must first acquire that knowledge of the world, the real world of her own day, in which she was now so deficient.

There was little reason to doubt from her appearance that she was indeed, as Granny Meehan had said, of a fine old stock. Therefore she must be educated as a lady. I should try, if possible, to solve the mystery concerning her parents; and then I should take her with me to the great country beyond the seas, where the wildest dreams are occasionally realized; and where, at least, there is opportunity for all things. I knew, however, that this would mean diplomacy. If I were to broach the subject to her just then, she would probably refuse to come. I must first win her; and I must gain the confidence of Niall, if that were at all possible. He would understand far better than this child of nature the advantages of a journey to the New World and of a good education there.

"I wish you knew Niall!" Winifred said, with a suddenness which startled me,—it was so like the echo of my own thoughts.

"I wish so too!" I replied fervently.

"But it is very hard. He does not like strangers; and he seems to dislike people from America most of all."

"That is very unfortunate!" I said, laughing.

"Yes," assented Winifred. "Still, he might like some of them very well—if he knew them."

She said this with the utmost simplicity. I did not tell her that I was going to seek Niall's acquaintance; for I feared she might warn him and he might disappear, as was his wont from time to time, or take other means of preventing me from carrying out my purpose. I told her, instead, that I must be going; that I had had a most delightful day and was charmed with her castle and her legends.

"How grand it must have been when it was a real castle," she said; "and when there was an abbey near by, with a church, and the monks singing! It was one of the race who founded that abbey, in thanksgiving for having been saved from great danger."

"Ah, those were the days of faith!" I exclaimed. "And whatever evil the people did they repaired it nobly by penance and by the great monuments they built up."

As we turned to leave the room I asked Winifred:

"Are you going to leave all these valuable things here?"

"Why, of course!" she answered in surprise.

"Can't you ever lock them up?"

Winifred burst out laughing.

"Lock them up!" she said. "Why should I do that?"

"To save them from being stolen."

"As if anything was ever stolen here! I can assure you there isn't a robber in the whole countryside."

"Why, that is as wonderful as your treasures!" I exclaimed, as we went in to where Granny Meehan sat, as usual, placidly by the fire, a great cat purring and rubbing its furry sides against her gown. The animal fixed on me that glance of grave scrutiny with which these feline creatures appear to read one's whole history, past, present and to come; after which she arched her back and lay down near the hearth.

Winifred walked down with me a piece of the way, after I had said farewell to Granny Meehan, who had heard my glowing praises of the castle with flushed cheeks, down which stole a tear or two of pride. When we were parting, Winifred remarked wistfully:

"I think, perhaps, Niall and I are different from any other people. But it's no use trying to change us: we shall always be the same."