An alert, unconscious note of apprehension had crept into Clodagh's tone. Her lips suddenly tightened, her eyes became wide.

"What is it, Hannah?" she exclaimed. "What's the reason he wants to marry me?"

"Sure no rason at all."

"Oh!"

Clodagh made a gesture of anger and disgust. Then she made a fresh appeal.

"Hannah, please----"

But Hannah went on with her work. Years of shrewd observation had taught her the power of silence.

"Then you won't tell me?"

There was no response.

"Hannah!"

At last the old servant turned, as though pressed beyond endurance.

"Well," she said, with seeming reluctance, "maybe he'd be thinkin'

'twould be aisier for wan of the a.s.shlins to be drawin' out of her husband's pocket than to be----"

But Clodagh interrupted. She turned suddenly, her cheeks burning, her eyes ablaze.

"Hannah!" she cried in sharp, pained alarm.

But Hannah had said her say. With her old, imperturbable gesture she turned once more to her task.

"I know nothin'," she murmured obstinately. "If you're wantin' more, ask Mrs. Laurence."

For a while Clodagh stood, transfixed by the idea presented to her mind. Then, action and certainty becoming suddenly indispensable, she turned on her heel. "Very well!" she said tersely--"very well! I will ask Aunt Fan."

And with as scant ceremony as she had entered it, she swept out of the kitchen.

As the door banged, Hannah glanced over her shoulder, her red face br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tenderness.

"Wisha, 'tis all for the best!" she murmured aloud--"'tis all for the best. But G.o.d forgive me for hurtin' a hair of her head!"

With feet that scarcely felt the ground beneath them, Clodagh sped along the stone pa.s.sages that led to the hall, and from thence ascended to the bedrooms. Her senses were acutely alive, her mind alert with an unbearable apprehension. A new dread that, by the power of intuition, had almost become a certainty impelled her forward without the conscious action of her will. Without any hesitancy or indecision, she traversed the long corridor, and, pausing before the room occupied by her aunt, knocked peremptorily upon the door.

After a moment's wait Mrs. a.s.shlin's querulous voice was raised in response.

"Well?" she asked. "What is it? Who's there?"

"Clodagh."

There was an audible sigh. And the usual "Come in!" followed somewhat tardily.

Clodagh instantly turned the handle and opened the door.

In this room the blinds had not yet been drawn up, and only a yellowish light filtered in from outside; in the grate a fire burned unevenly; and close beside sat Mrs. a.s.shlin, a cup of tea in her hand, a black woollen shawl wrapped about her shoulders. As her niece entered, she glanced round irritably, drawing the wrap more closely round her.

"Shut the door, Clodagh!" she said. "I hate these big, draughty houses."

Clodagh obeyed in silence; then walking deliberately across the room, paused by her aunt's chair. Her face was still burning, her heart was beating unpleasantly fast.

"Aunt Fan," she said, "I want to ask you something. Why should Mr.

Milbanke bother about me--about us?"

Mrs. a.s.shlin, startled by the suddenness of the unlooked-for attack, turned in her seat and peered through the yellow twilight into her niece's excited face.

"What on earth is the matter with you, child?" she demanded.

"Nothing. But I want to know."

Mrs. a.s.shlin made a gesture tantamount to shrugging her shoulders.

"It is quite natural that Mr. Milbanke should be interested in you. He was your father's oldest friend."

"Yes, yes." Clodagh bent forward uncontrollably. "And, Aunt Fan, has father died poor? Has--has he left debts? That's what I want to know."

Mrs. a.s.shlin moved nervously in her chair.

"My dear child----" she began weakly.

"Has he? Oh! Aunt Fan, has he left debts?"

Mrs. a.s.shlin was taken at a disadvantage.

"Well," she stammered--"well----"

"He has left debts?"

"Well, yes. If you must know--he has."

Clodagh caught her breath.

"Of course, as I often said," Mrs. a.s.shlin continued, "poor Denis was a terribly improvident man----"

But Clodagh checked her.

"Don't!" she said faintly. "I couldn't bear it--just to-day. Are the debts big?"

"Immense."

Mrs. a.s.shlin made the reply sharply. She was not an ill-natured woman, but her sense of dignity had been hurt.