Jerry, "not her own. trying him."

She is "I should like to know about Miss Dare," I said. "She interests me very much."

I never try to pump any body. If I want to know a thing, I ask.

"Everybody is interested in her," said Jim, with rather a grin. "She comes from California, or somewhere"

"From the West Indies," his sister corrected, "but she is not a Creole."

"She's a mine of wealth, and only twenty-two-" "Twenty-three," said Jerry. "And she has neither parents nor children, nor guardians nor guides," Jim went on, "but she has lovely horses

"She has an uncle, but he's mad," Jerry put in swiftly.

"Ah, get on, Jerry! Well, she's not mad. She rides like a bird, and speaks seven languages, and I forget how many more—”

"She don't speak much when it happens to be English," said Jerry, with decision.

"How do you know how much she didn't say to me when you weren't there?" her brother inquired, in a tone void of offence. "But the worst of it is, she may be saying it all to Hugo this morning, and more too."

Jerry gave him one quick glance and looked straight before her again.

"She has most remarkable eyes," I said. "They look black, but no one's eyes are really black, of course."

I could not help talking about this girl. She was at the back of my mind all the time, nearly as much as Hugo was. Just then it came into my head what a splendid match she would be for Hugo. I wondered if his cousins here were thinking the same thing. That made me feel dreary and cold. I got out of the garden as soon as I could, and said I would write some letters before lunch.

About one o'clock they all came back from oub-hunting, very cheerful and muddy, and full of the fun they had had. I didn't know this part of the country a bit, and all the places they talked about had the most savage names. There was one called —, oh, I really couldn't spell it! I felt very much of a foreigner that day, and I wondered if Miss Dare did.

Eva got us all together after lunch, and we rehearsed severely till tea-time. I found myself getting very much interested in the play, and, indeed, I had one of the best parts; but Miss Dare declined to take much trouble with hers. Perhaps she was tired after the morning. She sat down most of the time in the deep window-seat, and was always just finishing her cigarette when it was time for her to come on, or take up her cue, or whatever they call it. I am not well up in theatrical expressions. Eva lost her patience. The child was so desperately in earnest with her own acting that the other girl's nonchalance was

more than she could bear; and having called on her twice at a oritical moment without getting any response, she stopped dead short, with tears of helpless vexation in her eyes.

Hugo came to the rescue, as usual, and we got over the difficult moment, and went on again, but a flatness fell upon us. I suppose actors are very easily discouraged.

Hugo laughed and said, "I believe Miss Dare isn't really going in for it at all. She doesn't feel equal to a wretched miner part, being such a 'consternation of talent' herself. On our last day she will get called away by a wire, like the Blakes, and then we shall be left plantes! Is that what is going to happen, Miss Dare?

Miss Dare looked at him without a smile, and said in her peculiar steady voice

"I will aot with you on Saturday night, whatever happens.

"There now, Eva, you hear that?" Hugo called out in his cheerful way. "Buck up, all of you, and begin that scene again from the beginning."

He did not return what I thought her unnecessarily fixed gaze, but that might have been because I was looking at him too. The most innocent young man is quite as inscrutable as the most accomplished when he chooses. I had always thought Hugo specially innocent, and specially light-hearted. I am neither one nor other myself. When I say always, I mean for about three weeks.

We had not known each other longer.

As I was going upstairs, towards dusk, when all the rehearsing was over, I was surprised by Miss Dare's voice close beside me.

"Have you been in this room?" she said. "The view is quite interesting from the window."

I turned aside into the room, and she quickly closed the door. Now, where is the sense of looking at a view in the dark? I knew that that great waste space of blackness under the fading sky was just the bog. A line of Scotch firs somewhere along the road made islands of dark foliage against the sky, and came close up round a small old church standing in a small, dreadfully crowded churchyard exactly opposite the window we were looking out of.

The gravestones in the churchyard stood at every kind of angle, apparently nearly touching each other, and the ground below them looked like waves of the sea tossing. You could not imagine anybody at rest there. It was more like an ancient battle-ground.

"What do you think of it?" she asked.

"I think it is 8 great deal too near the house," I said.

"The natives round here wouldn't go near it for the world at night," she remarked. "There are lights that shine from the ground, and move about-corpse - candles,' they say. Should you like to

88

see them? We could sit up to-night, and watch."

"Many thanks, but I prefer to sleep at night," I said.

"Do you really sleep here?" she asked quickly, her eyes on my face.

"No; my room is on the other side of the house," I answered, misunderstanding her on purpose.

"Then you are in the long passage with the old stairease at the end. Have you gone down that staircase?" "No."

"I advise you not to." Now, I wanted to know why, but I did not want to ask; and besides, I had an idea that she was trying to frighten me. Her next remark was

"I wonder what your age is?"

I told her.

"And your birthday?" I told her that too. "The same year as mine, and the same day too. How curious? Would you mind showing me your hand?"

I did not care for that. I think palmistry is all stuff and nonsense. At least I thought so then. But now I don't know what I think.

She lit a small reading-lamp, with a movable half-shade which reflected the light very strongly; and she held my hand under this, gazing at it, while I looked at her face.

I admired it. A clear ontline, very little colour in the cheeks, but her lips looked the redder for that; and her eyes, even with the eyelids lowered, were wonderful. When she raised them and looked at me,

I thought of Hugo, and my heart sank. There was such fascination in her gaze.

"I don't understand it well," she said, in a disappointed voice. "I wish you would go with me and see Miriam. I'll show her my hand too. That's only fair. She will read both, and tell us together. Will you go?"

"To Miriam? She's only a professional palmist. I don't believe in any of those games, I assure you. Why do you want to know what is in my hand? It couldn't interest you."

"But it does. Shall I tell you why?"

"No, tell me anything else instead. About the old staircase, for instance, Why should I not go down it?"

"Well, if you want to know the story, there was a Dick Fenton here long ages ago, I forget the date exactly. He hated a man who had once been fond of his wife, and he laid a trap for him. The man came to Agolagh one day, thinking Dick Fenton knew nothing about him. He was very well received, and they all had a friendly supper in the old dining-room, where he sat at his host's right hand. Afterwards he was led politely to his room, somewhere down below; and the rest of the people went to bed too, naturally,-except Dick Fenton. He stayed up, waiting-not in his room. He walked very quietly up and down that corridor, where most of the bedrooms are; just waiting, quietly. Before the night was

over, some one came up the staircase, very quietly, he too. They met in the middle of the oorridor. Neither of those men was armed; they fought, just as they could, and Dick Fenton's wife heard them, shut in her room. They pressed each other to the far end of the passage in their struggle; there one of them slipped and fell, and the other knelt on him and broke his neok. Lady Fenton heard that too. At last she opened her door; and what she saw was Dick Fenton dragging his guest's body down the corridor by the feet. He got to the staircase and went down it, and she heard at each

step as he descended, a heavy bump. That was all. She never left her room again. She died there, out of her mind. . . .

"Well, you see, there is another staircase now, the one we all use. Why the old one was never done away with, I can't tell you. They never do away with anything in Ireland. But since that evening, no one sits on the host's right hand in this house. The place is always laid there, and always empty. If you asked why,you'd be sorry."

"I never asked why," I said, "I only wondered. Now I must go."

I never saw such a dark dining-room as the one at Agolagh, Any other house would have electric light in it, or something cheerful, Dinner always seemed so long there, and I think the empty seat rather got on people's nerves. Not on mine. I don't let things get on my nerves.

I was thinking of nothing but of that Dare girl, who looked simply too lovely this evening. She wore a sort of black robe, filmy and soft, with long pearl chains and things, and a pearl comb in her hair. How black and soft her hair was! We were all gazing at her-even Sir Richard, with his grave eyes; and suddenly they began talking about Miriam the palmist.

I don't know who began it, but the woman is quite a craze.

They had all heard of several things she had foretold in some wonderful way; and one story led to another till we were fairly excited, all of us. Then Lady Fenton spoke quietly, her thin hands folded rather tightly before her.

"My dears, if you really believe that this woman has a familiar spirit, need I remind you that we are expressly warned not to seek unto those that have familiar spirits? On the other hand, if you do not believe it, and are only playing with the idea, you are doing something more dangerous than you are aware of."

There was a dead silence, and we all left the diningroom feeling like children who have been reprimanded.

I can truthfully say that, until that moment, I had had no

intention of going near Miriam, or consulting her in any way. It is not a weakness of mine to consult other people about my affairs. But when you are told that a thing is dangerous and in a sort of way forbidden, well, it does become attractive. Or at least the idea of it does.

I had nothing to do but to think about this, for Hugo did not come near me. He was absolutely fascinated all the evening by that girl in black, She did not talk much to him, or make any fuss; but her eyes were very bright and her red lips smiling. When she stood up suddenly in front of the long pale-gold curtains of that old window, she looked to me, in her slim gracefulness, something like a swallow just ready for a quick sidelong flight.

No wonder Hugo gazed at her! The cousin Jim was gazing toe, and his eyes

twinkled more than ever.

I was very glad to get upstairs to my room. There was a peat-fire burning there, with a little red glow. But first I looked out of my window, as I always do at night. No moonlight, no starlight either; only soft darkness, and a scent like damp earth and moss. This is the very scent of Ireland; no other country has it.

I sat down by the fire when I had brushed my hair, and went over my part carefully, wanting to be word-perfect. There was a queer creaking

sound now and then from the

passage outside. No harm whatever in that. Why shouldn't old boards oreak? It would be rather odd if they didn't.

But I felt glad
But I felt glad

the grim ohurchyard was on the other side of the castle, so that I couldn't possibly see it or see lights shining on the orooked old grave-stones. I didn't like that place one bit.

What are corpse-candles, I should like to know? Of course there is some scientific explanation of such things, which...

A very quick step behind me made me turn round with a start. It was that Dare girl coming into my room almost at a run, with her head turned, looking back over her shoulder.

Wouldn't anybody have been astonished? Certainly I was surprised. Yes, I suppose I was startled as well.

"What makes you come in like that?" I demanded.

She had caught hold of the mantelpiece with both hands, and now she was smiling in a shaky way.

"Did I frighten you?" she asked.

"I didn't hear you knock, that's all," I told her. "Now, what is it?"

"I was in a hurry to get out of that passage. I apologise."

Was she trying it on again? I wondered. She certainly had tried to frighten me, or so I considered. But this time her own lips were quite pale, and the pearls round her throat were lifting up and down.

"Well?" I said.

"I came to ask you something. Will you change parts with me in this play?"

"Why, no! Thank you." "I mean," she said gently, "for a consideration."