She nodded her head and returned to the table.

"You're not thinking of giving me a drop, are you?" he exclaimed laughingly.

There was a look in her eyes that checked laughter.

"If I had my way," she said with great bitterness, "I'd take the men that make this stuff and I'd drown them in it. I'd pour it down their throats 'til they choked!..." She poured a little of the whiskey into a saucer. "Give me a light," she demanded.

He went to the mantel-shelf and brought the box of matches from it.

"Strike one," she said, and added when he had done so, "Set fire to the whiskey!"

He succeeded in making the spirit burn, and for a little while she and he stood by the table while the cold blue flames curled out of the saucer, wavering and spurting, until the spirit was consumed and the flame flickered and expired.

"That's what a drunkard's inside is like," said Mrs. MacDermott, picking up the saucer and carrying it downstairs to the scullery to be washed. He heard the water splashing in the sink, and when he had put the bottle of whiskey back in the cupboard, he went downstairs and waited until she had finished. She returned to the kitchen, carrying the washed saucer, and when she had placed it on the dresser, she took up a Bible and brought it to him.

"I want you to swear to me," she said, "that you'll never taste a drop of drink as long as you live!"

"That's easy enough," he answered. "I don't like it!"

She looked up at him in alarm. "Have you tasted it already, then?" she asked.

"Yes. How would I know I didn't like it if I hadn't tasted it? The smell of it is enough to knock you down!"

She put the Bible back on the dresser. "It doesn't matter," she said when he held out his hand for it. "Mebbe you have enough strength of your own to resist it. I ... I don't always understand you, John, and I'm fearful sometimes to see you so sure of yourself." She came to him suddenly and swiftly, and clasped him close to her. "I love you with the whole of my heart, son," she said, "and I'm desperate anxious about you!"

"You needn't be anxious about me, ma!" he answered. "I'm all right!"

X

The minister said, "G.o.d bless you, boy!" and patted him on the shoulder, and the schoolmaster wished him well and begged that now and then John would write to him. Willie Logan, hot and in a hurry, entered the station, eager to say good-bye to him, but the stern and disapproving eye of the minister caused him to keep in the background until John, understanding what was in his mind, went up to him.

"I'm sure I wish you all you can wish yourself," Willie said very heartily. "I wish to my G.o.d I was going with you, but sure, I'm one of the unlucky ones. Aggie sent her love to you, but I couldn't persuade her to come and give it to you herself!"

"Thank you, Willie. You might tell her I'm obliged to her."

"You never had no notion of her, John?"

"I had not, Willie. How's Jennie keeping?"

"Och, she's well enough," he answered sulkily, "Look at the minister there, glaring at me as I was dirt. Sure, didn't I marry the girl, and got intil a h.e.l.l of a row over it with the oul' fella! And what's he got to glare at? There's no need to be giving _you_ good advice about weemen, John, for you're well able to take care of yourself as far as I can see, but all the same, mind what you're doing when you get into their company or you'll mebbe get landed the same as me!..."

"Don't you like being married, then?"

"Ah, quit codding," said Willie.

THE SECOND BOOK OF THE FOOLISH LOVERS

Whoever loved that loved not at first sight.

MARLOWE.

"Love is a perfect fever of the mind. I question if any man has been more tormented with it than myself."

JAMES BOSWELL, _in a letter to the Rev. W. J. Temple._

THE FIRST CHAPTER

I

Mr. Cairnduff's friend, George Hinde, met John at Euston Station. He was a stoutly-built, red-haired man, with an Ulster accent that had not been impaired in any degree by twenty years of a.s.sociation with c.o.c.knies. "How're you!" he said, going up to John and seizing hold of his hand.

"Rightly, thank you! How did you know me?" John replied, laughing and astonished.

"That's a question and a half to ask!" Hinde exclaimed. "Wouldn't an Ulsterman know another Ulsterman the minute he clapped his eyes on him?

Boys O, but it's grand to listen to a Belfast voice again. Here you,"

he said, turning quickly to a porter, "come here, I want you. Get this gentleman's luggage, and bring it to that hansom there. Do you hear me?"

"Yessir," the porter replied.

"What have you got with you?" he went on, turning to John.

"A trunk and a bag," John answered. "They have my name on them. John MacDermott!"

"Mac what, sir?" the porter asked.

"MacDermott. John MacDermott. Pa.s.senger from Ballyards to London, via Belfast and Liverpool!"

"It's no good telling him about Ballyards," Hinde interrupted. "The people of this place are ignorant: they've never heard of Ballyards. Go on, now," he said to the porter, "and get the stuff and bring it here!"

The porter hurried off to the luggage-van. "Ill only just be able to put you in the hansom," said Hinde to John, "and start you off home, I've got to go north, tonight to write a special report of a meeting!..."

"What sort of a meeting?" John enquired.

"Political. An address to Mugs by a Humbug. That's what it ought to be called. I was looking forward to having a good crack with you the night, but sure a newspaper man need never hope to have ten minutes to himself. I've given Miss Squibb orders to have a good warm supper ready for you. That's a thing the English people never think of having on a Sunday night. They're afraid G.o.d 'ud send them to h.e.l.l if they didn't have cold beef for their Sunday supper. But there'll be a hot supper for you, anyway. A man that's been travelling all night and all day wants something better nor cold beef in his inside on a cold night!"

"It's very kind of you!..."

"Ah, what's kind about? Aren't you an Ulsterman? You've a great accent!

Man, dear, but you've a great accent! If ever you lose it I'll never own you for a friend, and I'll get you the sack from any place you're working in. I'll blacken your character!..."