The days ran on for the trial of Pat Carroll, but Edith did not again see Captain Clayton. There came tidings to Morony Castle of the new honours which Mr. O\'Mahony had achieved.

"I don\'t know that the country will be much the wiser for his services," said Captain Clayton. "He will go altogether with those wretched Landleaguers."

"He will be the best of the lot," said Mr. Jones.

"It is saying very little for him," said Captain Clayton.

"He is an honest man, and I take him to be the only honest man among them."

"He won\'t remain a Landleaguer long if he is honest. But what about his daughter?"

"Frank has seen her down in Cavan, and declares that she is about to make any amount of money at the London theatres."

"I take it they will find it quite a new thing to have a Member of Parliament among their number with an income," said Clayton. "But I\'ll bet any man a new hat that there is a split between him and them before the next Parliament is half over."

This took place during one of the visits which Captain Clayton had made to Morony Castle in reference to the coming trial. Florian had been already sent on to Mr. Blake\'s of Carnlough, and was to be picked up there on that very afternoon by Mr. Jones, and driven to Ballyglunin, so as to be taken from thence to the assize town by train. This was thought to be most expedient, as the boy would not be on the road for above half an hour.

After Captain Clayton had gone, Mr. Jones asked after Edith, and was told that she was away in Headford. She had walked into town to call on Mrs. Armstrong, with a view of getting a few articles which Mrs. Armstrong had promised to buy for her. Such was the story as given to Mr. Jones, and fully believed by him; but the reader may be permitted to think that the young lady was not anxious to meet the young gentleman.

"Ada," said Mr. Jones suddenly, "is there anything between Edith and Captain Clayton?"

"What makes you ask, papa?"

"Because Peter has hinted it. I do not care to have such things told me of my own family by the servant."

"Yes, there is, papa," said Ada boldly. "Captain Clayton is in love with Edith."

"This is no time for marrying or giving in marriage."

Ada made no reply, but thought that it must at the same time be a very good time for becoming engaged. It would have been so for her had such been her luck. But of herself she said nothing. She had made her statement openly and bravely to her sister, so that there should be no departing from it. Mr. Jones said nothing further at the moment, but before the girls had separated for the night Ada had told Edith what had occurred.

At that time they were in the house alone together,—alone as regarded the family, though they still had the protection of Peter. Mr. Jones had started on his journey to Galway.

"Papa," said Ada, "knows all about Yorke."

"Knows what?" demanded Edith.

"That you and he are engaged together."

"He knows more than I do, then. He knows more than I ever shall know. Ada, you should not have said so. It will have to be all unsaid."

"Not at all, dear."

"It will all have to be unsaid. Have you been speaking to Captain Clayton on the subject?"

"Not a word. Indeed it was not I who told papa. It was Peter. Peter said that there was something between you and him, and papa asked me. I told papa that he was in love with you. That was true at any rate. You won\'t deny that?"

"I will deny anything that connects my name with that of Captain Yorke Clayton."

But Ada had determined how that matter should arrange itself. Since the blow had first fallen on her, she had had time to think of it,—and she had thought of it. Edith had done her best for her (presuming that this brave Captain was the best) and she in return would do her best for Edith. No one knew the whole story but they two. They were to be to her the dearest friends of her future life, and she would not let the knowledge of such a story stand in her way or theirs.

The train was to start from the Ballyglunin station for Athenry at 4.20 p.m. It would then have left Tuam for Athenry, where it would fall into the day mail-train from Dublin to Galway. It was something out of the way for Mr. Jones to call at Carnlough; but Carnlough was not three miles from Ballyglunin, and Mr. Jones made his arrangements accordingly. He called at Carnlough, and there took up the boy on his outside car. Peter had come with him, so as to take back the car to Morony Castle. But Peter had made himself of late somewhat disagreeable, and Mr. Jones had in truth been sulky.

"Look here, Peter," he had said, speaking from one side of the car to the other, "if you are afraid to come to Ballyglunin with me and Master Flory, say so, and get down."

"I\'m not afeared, Mr. Jones."

"Then don\'t say so. I don\'t believe you are afeared as you call it."

"Then why do you be talking at me like that, sir?"

"I don\'t think you are a coward, but you are anxious to make the most of your services on my behalf. You are telling everyone that something special is due to you for staying in a boycotted house. It\'s a kind of service for which I am grateful, but I can\'t be grateful and pay too."

"Why do you talk to a poor boy in that way?"

"So that the poor boy may understand me. You are willing, I believe, to stick to your old master,—from sheer good heart. But you like to talk about it. Now I don\'t like to hear about it." After that Peter drove on in silence till they came to Carnlough.

The car had been seen coming up the avenue, and Mr. Blake, with his wife and Florian, were standing on the door-steps. "Now do take care of the poor dear boy," said Mrs. Blake. "There are such dreadful stories told of horrible men about the country."

"Don\'t mention such nonsense, Winifred," said her husband, "trying to frighten the boy. There isn\'t a human being between this and Ballyglunin for whom I won\'t be responsible. Till you come to a mile of the station it\'s all my own property."

"But they can shoot—" Then Mrs. Blake left the rest of her sentence unspoken, having been checked by her husband\'s eye. The boy, however, had heard it and trembled.

"Come along, Florian," said the father. "Get up along with Peter." The attempt which he had made to live with his son on affectionate paternal relations had hardly been successful. The boy had been told so much of murderers that he had been made to fear. Peter,—and other Peters about the country,—had filled his mind with sad foreboding. And there had always been something timid, something almost unmanly in his nature. He had seemed to prefer to shrink and cower and be mysterious with the Carrolls to coming forward boldly with such a man as Yorke Clayton. The girls had seen this, and had declared that he was no more than a boy; but his father had seen it and had made no such allowance. And now he saw that he trembled. But Florian got up on the car, and Peter drove them off to Ballyglunin.

Carnlough was not above three Irish miles from Ballyglunin; and Mr. Jones started on the little journey without a misgiving. He sat alone on the near side of the car, and Flor............