Clodagh laughed frankly at the stilted compliment, and a.s.shlin's face brightened perceptibly.

"Oh, well, as you're so amiable," he said magnanimously. "I don't mind admitting that 'twould have been a bit of a sacrifice to give up the hunt. Though if I hadn't been overruled by the majority, I'd have swallowed the ruins without a grimace."

He laughed with restored good-humour, and turned to his daughters.

"When you've done breakfast, Clo," he said, "run round to the stables and tell Burke he need only saddle the bay."

With the decision that he was, after all, to enjoy his day's sport, his spirits had risen; and despite the fact that the daylight revealed many evidences of last night's dissipation that would have been invisible thirty years ago, Milbanke was pleased and rea.s.sured by his appearance.

His movements were energetic, his expression alert. He suggested one who is interested and attracted by life; and the elder man was too unimaginative--too single of purpose in his own concerns--to suspect that the energy, the suggestion of antic.i.p.ation were due to his own presence in the house, to the promise of excitement and diversion that that presence offered.

With the definite arrangement of the day's plans, a fresh energy had descended on the party, and but a few minutes pa.s.sed before Clodagh and Nance rose from table and left the room. Then, as the two men were left alone, Milbanke put into action the resolution that had been gradually maturing in his mind.

Not without a certain trepidation--not without an embarra.s.sed distaste for the task--he bent forward in his precise manner, and drawing the cheque from beneath his plate, began to smooth it out.

"Denis," he said, "I found this on my plate when I came downstairs----"

a.s.shlin looked up hastily and laughed. He had all the Irishman's distaste to money as a topic of conversation. He was as sensitive in the offering of it to another, as in the accepting of it for himself.

"Oh, that's all right!" he said quickly. "Not another word about that, James--not another syllable."

But Milbanke continued to finger the cheque.

"Denis," he began again, a shade of nervousness audible in his voice, "I am uncertain how to say what I want to say. I am extremely anxious not to offend you, and yet I feel--I fear that you may take offence."

Before replying, a.s.shlin drained the cup of strong tea that stood beside his plate; then he glanced again at his companion.

"What in thunder are you driving at?" he asked good-humouredly.

Milbanke looked down.

"That's what I want to explain," he answered without raising his head.

"And you must not allow it to offend you. I want you, for the sake of old friendship, to let me tear this cheque up. I was excited last night; I infringed on one of my set rules--that of never playing cards for high stakes. It is for my own sake that I ask permission to do this. It--it will put me right with myself."

He laughed deprecatingly.

For a second there was no indication that his laboured explanation had been even heard; then, with alarming suddenness, a.s.shlin brought his hand down upon the table, ripping out an oath.

"And where the devil do I come in?" he demanded. "Is it because you see the place going to rack and ruin that you think you can insult me in my own house? I'd have you to know that when an a.s.shlin needs charity, he will ask for it." In the spasm of rage that had attacked him, his eyes blazed and the veins in his forehead swelled. Then, suddenly catching a glimpse of the consternation on his guest's face, he controlled himself by an effort, and with a loud laugh pushed back his chair and rose.

"Forgive me, James!" he said roughly. "You don't understand--you never did understand. It's the cursed pride of a cursed country. The less we have to be proud of, the more d.a.m.ned proud we are. We have a sense of humour for everything in creation except ourselves." Again he laughed harshly; then again his mood changed. "James," he said seriously, "put that cheque in your pocket, and if you value my friendship, never mention it again. We may be a bad lot; we may be all Clo says of us--fools, rakes, spendthrifts; but no a.s.shlin ever shirked his debts of honour." The words were bombastic, the sentiment false, but the natural dignity and distinction of the man--dissipated failure though he might be--were unmistakable, as he stood with high head and erect figure.

By the ironic injustice of such circ.u.mstances Milbanke--honest, prosaic, incapable of a dishonourable action--felt suddenly humiliated.

With shame-faced haste he muttered an apology, and thrust the cheque into his pocket.

At the moment that he did so, Clodagh re-entered the room.

"It's all right, father!" she exclaimed. "The bay will be round in a second. And Larry has come. Are you ready, Mr. Milbanke?"

He responded with instant alacrity. It was the second time that morning that she had unconsciously come to his relief.

"Oh! quite," he said--"quite ready. Shall we start?"

"This minute, if you like. Good-bye, father! I hope 'twill be a good run." She crossed the room quickly, then paused at the door. "Remember, the race will be nothing at all worth seeing," she added, glancing back over her shoulder at the guest.

CHAPTER VI

Without ceremony or apology Clodagh led Milbanke to the stables by the shortest route, which entailed the traversing of several long and windy pa.s.sages and the crossing of the great, draughty kitchen where Hannah, the housekeeper, cook, and general mainstay of the establishment, held undisputed sway.

As they entered her domain, she was standing by an open window engaged in the cleaning of a saucepan--an operation to which she brought an astonishing amount of noisy energy. At sight of the stranger, she dropped the knife she was holding, and made a furtive attempt to straighten her ample and somewhat dirty ap.r.o.n.

"Ah, wisha, Miss Clodagh," she began in a voice that trembled between chagrin and an inherent sense of hospitality, "isn't that a quare thing for you to be doin' now? To be bringin' the gintleman down here--an' me in the middle of me pots? Not but what you're welcome, sir--though 'tis no fit place for you," she added, with a glance that summed the intruder up from head to heel.

Milbanke laughed a little awkwardly.

"So long as you make no objection," he said with amiable haste, "I see nothing to find fault with."

But Hannah gave an incredulous shake of her head.

"Ah! you do be sayin' that," she replied sagely. "But 'tis a quare place you'll be findin' Orristown after England." She added this in a persuasive tone, making a tentative cast for the stranger's sentiments.

But before the fish could rise to her bait, her attention was claimed in another direction. A pellet of mud, aimed with extreme accuracy, came flying through the open window and hit her on the cheek.

Milbanke glanced round quickly; Clodagh laughed; and the victim of the a.s.sault gave a gasp, pushed her saucepans aside, and thrust her head through the window.

"Wait till I catch you, Masther Larry!" she cried across the yard. "How can I be doin' the work of six women and three men with the likes of you trapesin' about? 'Pon my word, I'll tell on you--I'll tell your uncle on you. Long threatenin' comes at last!"

But the only response that greeted her was a smothered laugh from the stables opposite--a laugh which Clodagh involuntarily echoed.

Instantly Hannah wheeled round from the window.

"Ah! Miss Clodagh, isn't it a shame for you?" she exclaimed tremulously. "Isn't it a shame for you now to be encouragin' that brat of a boy? Sure, 'tis the third time he thrun his marbles of mud at me this mornin'. So signs, I'll spake to the masther. I will so."

She gave her ap.r.o.n a defiant tug.

Milbanke stood uncertain and embarra.s.sed, nervously curious as to Clodagh's next move. With a certain misgiving he saw her face brim over with delight; then with a sense of complete amazement he saw her step suddenly to the side of the indignant Hannah, throw one arm impulsively round her neck, and give her a hasty kiss.

"Indeed you won't speak to him, Hannah--and you know you won't," she said in her most beguiling tones. "And you'll make a griddle cake for lunch--just to show you aren't angry. Come on, Mr. Milbanke! Larry is waiting."

As they crossed the kitchen, Hannah defiantly pa.s.sed the corner of her ap.r.o.n across her eyes and ostentatiously resumed her interrupted work.

At the door Clodagh looked back.

"Hannah!" she said persuasively.

Hannah began to sc.r.a.pe her saucepan.