"Clodagh," he said suddenly, "allow me to ride with you. I was a fairly good horseman in--in my day."

There was pathos in the deprecating justification; but Clodagh's attention was caught by the words alone.

"You!" she said in blank amazement.

Then something in the crudeness of her tone struck upon her, and she made haste to amend her exclamation.

"Of course it's very, very kind of you," she added awkwardly.

At her lowered tone, Milbanke coloured, and took a step forward.

"Clodagh," he began, with a flash of courage, "I think you might allow me to be more kind to you than you do. I think I might give you more protection. And it has occurred to me that perhaps we ought to announce our--our engagement----"

He halted nervously.

As soon as he had begun to speak, Clodagh had walked away from him across the room; and now she stood by the mantelpiece looking down steadily into the fire.

"Do you agree with me?" he asked, moving nervously towards her.

There was an embarra.s.sed silence. And in his perturbation he glanced from her bent head to the picture above the chimneypiece from which Anthony a.s.shlin's ardent face showed out a vague patch of colour against its black background.

"Clodagh," he said suddenly, "allow me to tell Mrs. a.s.shlin that you have promised to marry me."

But still Clodagh did not answer; still she stood gazing enigmatically into the burning logs, her slight figure and warm youthful face fitfully lighted by the capricious, spurting flames.

"Clodagh!" he exclaimed. And there was a note of uneasiness in his low, deprecating voice.

Then at last she turned, and their eyes met.

"Very well!" she said quietly. "You may tell Aunt Fan. But, if you don't mind, I'll ride by myself."

That night, at the conclusion of dinner, the engagement was announced.

All the members of the a.s.shlin family were seated round the table when Milbanke, who had practically eaten nothing during the meal, summoned his wavering courage and leaned across the table towards Mrs. a.s.shlin, who was sitting at his right hand.

"Mrs. a.s.shlin," he began almost inaudibly, "I--that is, Clodagh and I"--he glanced timidly to where Clodagh sat erect and immovable, at the head of the table--"Clodagh and I have--have an announcement to make.

We, that is I----" He stammered hopelessly. "Mrs. a.s.shlin, Clodagh has made me very--very proud and very happy. She has consented to--to be my wife."

He took a deep, agitated breath of wordless relief that the confession was made.

There was a long pause. Then suddenly Mrs. a.s.shlin extended both hands towards him in an hysterical outburst of feeling.

"My dear--dear Mr. Milbanke," she said. "What a shock! What a surprise, I should say! What would my poor brother-in-law have thought! But Providence ordains everything. I'm sure I congratulate you--congratulate you both." She turned to Clodagh. "Though of course it is not the time for congratulations----" She hastily drew out her handkerchief.

As she did so, little Nance rose softly from table and slipped un.o.bserved from the room. At Milbanke's words, the child's face had turned terribly white, and she had cast an appealing, incredulous look at Clodagh. But Clodagh, in her self-imposed stolidity, had seen nothing of the expressions round her; and now, as her sister left her place and crossed the room, the significance of the action went unnoticed.

For a moment the only sound audible in the room was the cracking of the fire and Mrs. a.s.shlin's m.u.f.fled weeping; but at last, Milbanke, agonised into action, put out his hand and touched her arm.

"Please do not give way to your feelings, Mrs. a.s.shlin!" he urged.

"Think--think of Clodagh!"

Thus appealed to, Mrs. a.s.shlin wiped away the half-dozen tears that had trickled down her cheek.

"You must forgive me," she murmured. "We Irish take things too much to heart. It--it brought my own engagement back to me--and of course my poor Laurence's death. I hope indeed that it will be a very long time before Clodagh----"

But the words were broken by a clatter from the other side of the table, as young Laurence a.s.shlin opportunely knocked one wine-gla.s.s against another. And in the moment of interruption, Clodagh pushed back her chair and stood up.

"If you don't mind, Aunt Fan," she said, "I think I'll go to bed.

The--the ride has tired me. Good-night!" And without a glance at any one, she walked out of the room.

But she had scarcely crossed the hall, when a step behind her caused her to pause; and, looking back, she saw the figure of her cousin, a pace or two in the rear.

In the half light of the place, the two confronted each other; and Clodagh lifted her head in a movement that was common to them both.

"What do you want?" she asked.

a.s.shlin stepped forward.

"'Tisn't true, Clo?" he asked breathlessly.

Clodagh looked at him defiantly and nodded.

"Yes," she said. "'Tis true."

For a moment he stared at her incredulously, then his incredulity drove him to speech.

"But, Clo," he cried, "he's sixty, if he's a day! And you----"

Clodagh flushed.

"Stop, Larry!" she said unevenly. "Father was nearly sixty."

But a.s.shlin's sense of the fitness of things had been aroused.

"That's all very well!" he cried. "Uncle Denis was all right for a father or an uncle. But to marry! Clo, you're mad!"

Clodagh turned upon him.

"How dare you, Larry?" she cried. "You are horrible! I hate you!"

Her voice caught, and with a sudden pa.s.sionate gesture she wheeled away from him and began to mount the stairs.

The action sobered him. With impetuous remorse, he thrust out his hand to detain her.

"Clo!" he said. "I say, Clo!"

But she swept his hand aside.

"No!--no!" she exclaimed. "I don't want you!--I don't want you! I never want to speak to you again. You are hateful--detestable----"