She shall be mine! A novel

Front matter

! VOL. Jl Wovcl BY FRANK HUDSON AUTHOR OF " THE LAST HURDLE," ETC. IN TWO VOLUMES VOL. II ponton WARD AND DOWNEY, Ld. 12 YOEK STEEET COYENT GAEDEN 1894 [All rights reserved] Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London & Bunoay. CONTENTS OF VOLUME II. CHAP. PAGE I. A SUMMER CLOUD ... ... ... 1 II. I SEEK TO KNOW MY FATE ... ... 15 III. ON A RUSTIC SEAT ... ... ... 28 IV. MAGGIE REMEMBERS SOMETHING ... 37 V. ETHEL WANTS TO KNOW ... ... 49 VI. AN UNPLEASANT SURPRISE ... ... 61 VII. AN AFTERNOON RIDE ... ... 72 VIII. TEMPEST REMAINS ... ... ... 83 IX. IN DUBLIN CITY ... ... ... 93 X. I GET A STRAIGHT TIP ... ... 102 XI. I HELP A FELLOW-SWAIN ... ... 117 XII. LOST IN THE SNOW ... ... ... 131 XIII. IS IT ALL A DREAM. ... ... 139 XIV. WHO STOLE IT? ... ... ... 150 XV. THE GHOST WALKS ... ... ... vi CONTENTS.

CHAP. PAGE XVI. "THE MASTER IS IN IRELAND" ... 170 XVII. FELL TREACHERY ... ... ... 181 XVIII. A WEARY JOURNEY ... ... 191 XIX. WATTS TO THE RESCUE ... ... 199 XX. FACE TO FACE ... ... ... 208 XXI. SHE HAS GONE! ... ... ... 227 XXII. TRACED ... ... ... ... 238 XXIII. NEMESIS... ... ... ... 247 XXIV. AFTER THE STORM ... ...

Chapter I

A SUMMER CLOUD. Last night, in the solitude of my room, I sat with pen and paper before me to perform my promise to Ethel. When my task was finished I read the lines over, and then muttered, " Come, that's not too bad — I think ; but let Ethel be judge." And here I am in the morning-room, impatiently awaiting her coming. It is a quarter to nine, and all will be down to breakfast in another five minutes. How I Here she comes ! — I know that rustle. VOL. II. B Heavens ! how lovely she looks in white ! And what a colour she has this morning ! " Well, did you perform your promise ? " she asks, after our greeting. My answer is to place the following in her hands — STJNEISE ON THE COAST. The lilac vanguard of the rosy morn Sails slowly onward o'er the swelling sea. To grey old Time another child is born ; Night's reign has ended — Earth again is free !

The ever-watchful mallard and his mate, From shore to moorland swiftly homeward hie ; The crane, in silent, solitary state, Stands stonelike, gazing towards the flushing sky, By yonder cliff the broad-winged gull careers, While puffins play amid the heaving foam. Far to the south a sudden sail appears, And blushes joyously at sight of home. Landward a new-born brood of shadows creep, And phantom billows float above the vale, While tinkling bells on dewy-coated sheep Lend rustic harmony to hill and dale. The morning minstrel upward wings his way, To sing invisible to mortal eyes. The last foolhardy star to brave the day, Now faintly flick'ring, gradually dies. See ! the first sunbeam speeds o'er half a world, To land on Albion with a happy smile ! Apollo's golden banner stands unfurled — Glad god, I greet thee from this stern old isle.

When she has read the verses she looks at me for a moment, and then suddenly exclaims — " Why, you are a poet, Mr. Dolan ! Do you know that these verses are really — very — very good ? " " I am glad you think so, Miss Foyle. " Oh, I do ! " " I only wrote them to please you," I add. " That was very kind of you," she an swers. "But you know, Mr. Dolan, you could not have written them to please anybody if you had not the talent. Now you must write something else. Why not publish a volume of poems ? " "Dedicated to you ?" She smiles, blushes just a little, and answers, " If you like." Here the entrance of Jack and his wife, followed almost immediately by Miss Martha, ends our ' conversation on poetry. During breakfast Miss Martha asks — "Mr. Dolan, what is this I hear about the strange disappearance of a girl from the mill ?

" Why this question should make Ethel shoot one of her sudden glances in my direction I cannot tell. " You mean the girl known as Alice ? " I answer. " No, I think her name was Liz. She .1 was a nurse. It is not Ethel who glances towards me now — it is Langton, and his wife sees that glance with her quick eyes. " Oh, yes ; Liz Carroll," I say. " It is a curious affair. She left the mill one morning to visit her uncle ; but instead of doing so, walked into Ballyboyle, and took the train to Dublin." " Rather a curious proceeding," remarked Langton, with another keen glance in my direction. " What could she have gone away in that mysterious manner for ? " " Goodness knows ! " I answer. " Perhaps it was some love affair," Mrs. Langton suggests, handing me a cup of tea. "Perhaps it was." " I'm afraid she has not gone to Dublin on any good purpose," Miss Martha observes.

" Girls don't go away from home in that manner if there is not some dark reason for doing so." " By the way, what has become of her fierce-looking lover ? " Langton wants to know. " Shaun ? He is gone to Dublin in search of her," I tell him. " Poor Shaun ! I wonder if he has found her ? " " Was he very much in love with her? " Ethel asks. "Madly," I reply. "But she did not love him." " How do you know that ? " They all seem to inquire together. " Simply because I had eyesight," I an swer, feeling a little nettled, I don't know why. " Liz was a born coquette." About eleven o'clock Ethel suddenly decides upon visiting the mill, and bringing a present for the baby. " May I go too ? " I ask. " Yes, if you like," she answers, and then rings and orders the pony-phaeton. While awaiting her I walk to and fro on the lawn smoking a cigarette, and presently am joined by Langton.

" Are you going to drive with Ethel to the mill ? " he wants to know. " Yes." " Look here, Arthur, I want to ask you a question — man to man." " Go ahead." " Do you know the cause of Liz's flight ? " " I fancy so." " Who is it ? " " Tempest." "Ah, yes, yes!" he cries. "I see it all now — I see it all now ! " " Of course I have no proof," I say. " I only fancy that he is the man." " He is the man, Arthur — I am sure of it." Here Ethel appears, whip in hand, while the phaeton drives round to the door with Tom, one of the grooms, in charge. " Look here, Arthur," continues Langton, " now is your chance for a proposal to Ethel." " What ! " I answer, laughing, " with Tom seated behind us ? " " I don't want you to propose in the phaeton, man alive !" he exclaims. " Can't you take her for a walk round the river ?

" " I'll see." Here we are going tantivy along the road to the mill, Ethel driving her favourite ponies, I seated by her side, and Tom behind us, with face as immobile as a statue's. " I have been thinking of a subject for your next poem, Mr. Dolan," she says presently. " Have you really % Do tell me what it is." " Sunset — a description of sunset ; a companion poem to your ' Sunrise.' " " Capital thought, Miss Foyle ! I'll think it out, and then set to work." "Oh yes, you must!" she declares. " En passant, why do you allude to Albion in your poem ? Why not Erin ? " " Well, that needs a note of explanation," I answer. " If you remember, there is one line in it as follows — ' While tinkling bells on dewy-coated sheep.' ' " Yes, it occurs in the second last verse, I believe." " Well, as you know, wether-bells are not used in Ireland ; therefore that line would be nonsensical if I substituted Erin for Albion."

" Yes," she says, " I quite understand XX now. When we reach the mill gate we quit the phaeton and walk to the house. We find Mrs. McBride busy knitting in the kitchen. She jumps up from her seat as we enter, and expresses her pleasure at seeing us in her own natural way, as she dusts two chairs for us. " And how is the baby, Mrs. Me Bride ? " Ethel asks. " Oh, begorra, he's finely, miss," she answers ; " only he's cuttin' a tooth, an' it's makin' him as cross as two sticks. He's asleep now, thank God, after keepin' his father an' me awake most all night." "Any tidings of Liz, Mrs. McBride ? " I ask. " Ah, the sorra a whisper, sur — it's a sore pity, that's what it is." " I wonder if Shaun has succeeded in finding her." " No wan knows, sur — no wan knows at all. Sight nor light iv him was niver seen sence the night you gev him the tin pounds."

" Ten pounds ! " echoes Ethel ; " what did you give him ten pounds for \ " "To go in search of Liz," I answer. " The poor fellow was almost distracted with grief at her flight to Dublin, so I gave him the money to enable him to follow her there." " That you did, sur," adds Mrs. McBride. " And didn't he bless you ! " " And have you any idea of why she went to Dublin, Mrs. McBride ? " Ethel asks. " None whatsomdever, miss," answers Mrs. McBride, shakiug her head. " It's most mystarious, as himself sez — most mys tarious. It was the same wid Alice. Lord save me, Mr. Dolan, what's got Alice, at all?" " Haven't the slightest idea," I answer, whereupon Ethel looks at me sharply. I told her that I knew more than others about Alice. " Arrah, but she was a darlint, Miss Ethel ! " Mrs. McBride continues.

" It would do your heart good to look at her, wouldn't it, Mr. Dolan ? As party a girl as iver the sun shone on, miss. Wasn't she, Mr. Dolan '{ Yarrah, but it was her that ust to be so particklar about you, sur ! An' the very last word she sez to me was, ' Be sure an' remimber me to Mr. Dolan.' Och, she was a darlint ! " Here Ethel rises, and says it is time to go. "Are you goin' so soon, miss?" asks Mrs. McBride, in some surprise. "Yes, Mrs. McBride. I promised to be home very soon. Good-bye." And out she walks, leaving me to follow behind. Confound Mrs. McBride, and her chatter about Alice ! No chance of proposing now ! We drive home at a furious pace, Ethel not uttering a dozen words all the way. When we reach Grange Foyle we find Langton and his wife just on the point of starting for a ride.

" Why, what on earth has brought you back so soon ? " asks the latter in surprise. " We did not expect you for another two hours." "Oh, we have been away quite long enough, I think," replies Ethel, walking up the steps and entering the house, while her cousin looks after her, and Langton looks at me. " Now I'm going to have a smoke," I say. " I have been longing for one all the tt morning. So saying I turn and walk towards the garden. It is now one o'clock, and as luncheon is fixed for half-past two to-day, I can have a nice quiet hour and a half to myself here among the flowers. I smoke and muse, and muse and smoke, until the clock in the stables chimes a quarter past two, and looking up I see Langton coming along the path. " Back from your ride," I say, as he comes up. "Yes; did that come off?"

"Did what come off?" " Why, your proposal." " No ; Mrs. McBride played havoc with my chance of speaking." " Mrs. McBride ! How ? " " Oh, she began singing the praises of Alice — that girl I told you about — and Ethel didn't like it, so rose and returned to the phaeton, leaving me to follow. On the way home she did not speak ten words." " Jealous, by Jupiter ! " he exclaims. " Splendid ! " " Splendid ? " I echo. " Yes, splendid ! She would not be jealous if she did not care for you. My dear boy, you are all right ! Safe as a church ! Ethel will soon get over her little huff, and then you go in and win ! Now come along to luncheon."

Chapter II

I SEEK TO KNOW MY FATE I suspect that Ethel received a good " talking to " from her cousin, for she came down to luncheon all smiles and gracious ness, as if determined to atone for her ill humour. Seeing this, Langton winked at me, and then asked — " Well, Ethel, you have not told us any thing about your visit to the mill. How is the baby ? " " We had not the honour of interviewing O his highness," she answered. " He was enjoying a brief slumber, having been awake all night." " Yes, and having insisted on his father and mother remaining awake also," I added. " Did you gain any information about that girl ? " Miss Martha wanted to know. " None whatever," I answered ; " no one has heard anything about her." " Oh, I suppose she will be heard of in time," Mrs. Langton said, as if anxious to close the subject.

" By the way, Ethel, Maggie Emmet is going to be married — her brother came to tell us all about it this morning. " What ! " exclaimed Ethel, with an amused little rippling laugh. " Maggie Emmet going to marry at last ! Well, you surprise me ! " " Who is Maggie Emmet ? " queried Langton. " A sister to one of the tenants," his wife explained ; " and a downright little flirt. I don't know how many swains she has had. However, I am glad to hear she is going to be married at last." " Who is the happy man ? " Ethel asked. " Some shopkeeper in Ballyboyle — a butcher, I think James Emmet told me. You and Mr. Dolan ought to walk over and congratulate the bride elect." " Oh, yes," Ethel answered ; " she is sure to expect me. Would you care to come, Mr. Dolan ? " " Well, indeed I would — very much," 1 rejoined ; whereupon Langton treated me to another of .his solemn winks.

And so it was arranged that we would leave for the home of the Emmets at four o'clock. By the midday post I receive the following letter from Mr. O'Hara — " ' Ballyboyle Examiner,' " Office : High Street, Ballyboyle. " August. " My dear Mr. Dolan, " I have been thinking of writing to you for some time, just to know how you VOL. II. C are getting on, and also to ask about your friend's horses, as I see that there are three of them in the entries for one or two of the autumn handicaps. If you know anything good about them, don't forget to drop me a line. " Ballyboyle is doing a roaring trade all round— thanks to you know who ! As for Duffey's, they are actually thinking of having it newly white-washed ! That will give you some idea of the business there. By the way, it is with feelings of the great est sorrow that I have to inform you of the demise of Duffey's cat.

She departed this life last month, leaving a young family of eleven motherless. Mrs. Duffey will have to support them, for you may take your oath their father wont. In fact, no one knows who the devil their father is. That secret Duffey's cat carried with her to the grave, like many another mother before her. I gave her three lines in the paper. " I am afraid that my head cook and bottle-washer has fallen into bad ways — he has taken to courting. The person is a widow, which makes his conduct even worse. And I once thought him such a rock of sense ! " What a sad thing about poor Liz Carroll ! Shaun has also vanished into the unknowable, and we never hear tale or tidings of him. I wonder if he ever found Liz ? What with her, Shaun, and Alice, the mill is a regular house of mystery. " Well, now I'll stop.

Hoping you arc well as ever you were in your life, I remain, " Yours very truly, " Tom O'Hara." Yes, I must ask Langton about his horses, and wTrite to O'Hara. At four o'clock Ethel and I set out on our walk across the fields to James Emmet's. Ethel wears a light tweed costume, and has a grouse wing in the band of her hat. I mention this same grouse wing because it supplies me with that which I am desper ately in need of — a subject for conversation. Why I should require a subject at all I cannot tell ; but, somehow, I have become strangely shy and nervous during the last ten minutes, and have walked along in silence. However, I now say — " Do you know, Miss Foyle, that grouse wing in your hat reminds me of a week spent in Scotland some three years ago." " Indeed ! " " Yes, I was one of a party of six ; " and then I proceed to give her a long and rather rambling account of my week's shooting.

So long is the tale that it is not finished by the time we reach Emmet's cottage. We find James alone, and busy mending a rat trap. He is a thick-set, grave-looking man, quite grey, though not more than forty, I should think. He is a bachelor, and lives with his sister, who is so soon going to leave him. " Well, James, and so Maggie is going to be married at last," Ethel says, after he has welcomed us and handed us chairs. " Yis, indeed, Miss Ethel," he replies, as he places the trap on the dresser, and pre pares to tell us all about the affair. " Yis, indeed, miss, an' it took me a power iv trouble to git her to make up her mind." " Do you tell me so, James ? " and Ethel's eyes wander towards me as they sparkle with amusement. " I do indeed, miss," continues James. " But shure, you know her iv owld !

She niver appeared to be in the wan mind twiste." " Well, but how did you succeed in getting her to make up her mind in the end ? " Ethel wants to know. " Well, it cum about this way, miss. Av coorse, for the last twelve months an' more, I couldn't see the door wid chaps cummin shootherin round. Sumtimes, mebbe, there'd be three or four here at wanst, an' thim lookin' all soorts at aich other. 'Clair to man, Miss Ethel, I often thought the ind iv it all would be murther ! " "Did you really ? " Miss Ethel exclaims. " God's truth, I did, miss ! Well, to make a long story short, I up an' tells her last week that I'd stand it no longer. Av coorse that riz her, an' she began to barge me like a pickpocket." " Oh, I'm shocked to hear that ! " declares Miss Ethel. " Yis, miss, I'm full shure you are.

Howsomdever, well knowin' the soort iv a girl I had to dale wid, I kept me timper, an' I sez, ' Maggie, it's only for your own good I'm spakin. Shure iv I died to-morrow you'd be all alone.' — And wid that, miss, she looked soft at me, an' sez, ' Arrah, what are you talkin' about dyin' for, Jim ? ' — And then I sez, ' Shure I'm not goin' to die yit, but wan niver knows what it may plaze hiven to do. I'd be a dale more aisy in me mind, iv I seen you marrit, Maggie. Arrah, which iv all the boys do you preffer ? ' — ' Musha, an' I don't know at all,' she sez. — ' Luke Boylan the pig-jobber, and Paddy Swan the butcher, is two good men,' I sez, ' an' I think Luke is the best iv the two ! ' — Av coorse, Miss Ethel, whin she hears me say that, she immadiatly sez — ' Arrah, what's he to Paddy Swan ? ' — ' What,' I sez, ' Luke nothin' to Paddy Swan ?

Yarrah, girl dear, look at Luke's lovely fine farm, an' his twinty pigs ! ' — ' An' what's thim to Paddy's splendid butcher's shop ? ' she sez. — ' Pigs is risin' rapidly,' I sez. — ' Yis, an' so is beef an' mutton,' she sez. — ' Who'd live in an' ould butcher's shop ? ' I sez. — ' i" would,' she sez. — 'I dar' you,' I sez. — 'You do?' she sez. — 'Yis, I do,' I sez. So wid that, miss, she bounced out the door, an' wint along the road just a-purpose to meet Paddy, an' whin she come back that night she towld me that she was goin' to git marrid to Paddy next month. Just what I wanted, miss." And James's face relaxes into a smile. " Well, I'm very glad to hear it," Ethel says. " Tell Maggie to come over to the house and see me." " Yes, miss — thank you kindly. She is away helpin' Mrs. Brady wid the buther to day, but she'll be back be six."

"And I want you to find out what sort of present she would like me to give her," Ethel continues, rising. " And when you know, come over and tell me." " I sartinly will, miss," says James. " I'll make it me business to ax her at wanst." And with this promise on the part of James we leave the cottage, and turn our steps homeward. "Miss Maggie Emmet appears to possess a mind of her own," I say. " That is just what she does not possess ! " answers Ethel, laughing. " She is as a feather in the wind. However, perhaps marriage will steady her." After this we lapse into silence, and traverse a whole field like a couple of mutes. It is when we are going through a lane overhung with ash and elder that I suddenly say — " A penny for your thoughts, Miss Foyle." " How do you know they are worth that sum ?

" " I know because I am a thought-reader." " I don't believe you ! " she exclaims with a little flush. " How could you read my thoughts ? " O " Let us sit down here and rest, and I'll tell you," I say. We have just come to a fallen tree trunk, backed by a bank of mingled moss and wild strawberries, and here we rest. But the mere act of sitting down beside her seems to have driven all thoughts of thought-reading and everything else clean out of my head. So, after patiently waiting two or three minutes, and coming to the conclusion that I either cannot or will not speak, she asks — " Where did you learn thought-reading ? " " I never learned it at all," I answer ; " comes natural, you know — quite natural ! " " And you really believe in such a power?" " Oh, yes ; but I don't think I could read your thoughts."

"Why, just now you said you could!" she says. "However, I am glad you were mistaken." " Why ? " I ask. " Oh, because I don't wish you to know my thoughts." And she looks away down the lane. " Well, I wish I could," I say desperately. " Why ? " She has cornered me at last ! They always do if they mean having it out with a man. Bless them ! " Why ? " I echo. " Yes." " Why, because I love you." She sits quietly looking down at the leaf strewn ground. " Ethel ! " " Yes." " You are not angry ? " " Why should I be ? " I must respectfully decline to speak further concerning the interview between Arthur Dolan and Ethel Foyle. I will merely state that we quitted that lane arm in arm, betrothed for ever and ever.

Chapter III. On

A RUSTIC SEAT. Great was the pleasure of Jack and his wife when Ethel and I announced our engagement, just three days ago. As for Miss Martha, she insisted upon kissing me! " The jolliest thing out ! " Langton de clared. " Make us all one family. You two will spend the spring and winter witli us in England, and we two will spend the summer and autumn with you here." " Agreed," I answered for Ethel and myself. The wedding will take place on the eighteenth of November — that being Ethel's birthday — and we will spend our honeymoon in Langton's place. How I wish November were here ! And we have only been engaged three days ! What impatient mortals men are, to be sure ! " You are quite right," says a voice behind me — her voice. " Do you always speak your thoughts aloud ? " " You don't mean to say you overheard me ?

" I ask, as she takes her place beside me on the rustic lawn seat. " I do — you were uttering that well-worn truism about man's impatience." " Quite right, my ownest own. I am in a fever — a regular fever of impatience." " For what ? " "For November the eighteenth." She smiles at this, and informs me that I am a gander — a fact which I never suspected before. " Yes," I continue, " I wish I could clip the months, as certain of the Cæsars were fond of doing. I'd soon make short work of September and October." " Arthur, listen to me," she presently says ; " and keep your hands still, if you please— there are windows behind us. I want to talk to you. You must not allow dull, prosaic marriage to warp your poetic gifts." " Ahem ! My what ? " " Your poetic talent. I will not be happy — not quite happy until I behold a volume of your poems, bound in green, and with your name in gold on the cover."

" But supposing nobody will be induced to purchase my volume of poems — what then ? " " Nonsense, Arthur ! Why should they not purchase it ? " " Well, people do not read new poetry, to begin with, my dearest. Secondly, my poetry might not be worth the paper it was printed on. Thirdly, the reviewers might slate it." "Oh, I don't think so at all, Arthur. You must not allow the idea of failure to deter you. Why, only think of the dread ful things the reviewers said about Keats and Wordsworth ! And yet, you see, both those poets live." " Ah, yes, madam, but I am neither Keats nor Wordsworth. I am a mere scribbler of verse." " And what is verse but poetry ? " she asks, "/think you are capable of writing poetry." "Ah, that's because you love me." " Well, of all the vain, conceited, imperti nent men I ever met — " Here she boxes my ear, and I really fancy I feel the blow.

" Ethel, Ethel, if you are strong be merciful ! " "Yes, on one condition." " Name it, madam." " That you write that poem on Sunset. " I'll try." " To-night, remember " To-night ! What ! do you expect a fellow to write an immortal poem in a single sitting ? " " Well, you wrote that one on Sunrise in a single sitting, did you not ? " " Oh, yes, but then my brain was clear." " What do you mean by that, pray ? " " Why, I mean that my head was not filled with fog — November fog." The timely appearance of James Emmet saves my ear from another dreadful box. He has crossed the park, and is now walking over the lawn to where we are seated. " Oh, I know what brings him," Ethel says. " He comes to let me know the kind of offering Maggie would like me to present to her on her approaching marriage." " Talking of wedding presents," I say, " I must measure your finger for a rede goold ring some day soon.