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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/26034-8.txt b/26034-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..43e8cdb --- /dev/null +++ b/26034-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8426 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Grey Town, by Gerald Baldwin + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Grey Town + An Australian Story + +Author: Gerald Baldwin + +Release Date: July 12, 2008 [EBook #26034] +[Date last updated: January 3, 2009] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREY TOWN *** + + + + +Produced by Nick Wall, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +GREY TOWN + + +J ROY STEVENS, Print., +1-7 Knox Place, Melbourne + + +[Illustration: She raised the oar, and brought it down smartly across +his knuckles.--(See page 190).] + + + + +GREY TOWN + +An Australian Story + +BY + +GERALD R. BALDWIN + +Author of "Dr. Pat Cassidy," etc. + +[Illustration: Publisher's logo] + +Wholly set up and printed in Australia. + +Registered by the Postmaster-General for transmission through the +post as a book. + +"MESSENGER" OFFICE, ST. PATRICK'S COLLEGE +MELBOURNE + +1922 + + + + +Contents + + +Chapter. Page. + + I. THE PRESBYTERY 7 + + II. MICHAEL O'CONNOR 17 + + III. THE QUIRKS 26 + + IV. PROMOTION 36 + + V. DENIS QUIRK 45 + + VI. READJUSTMENT 56 + + VII. "THE OBSERVER" DIES 68 + + VIII. JOHN GERARD 80 + + IX. DAYS OF STORM AND STRESS 91 + + X. RUMOUR, HYDRA-HEADED 104 + + XI. TEMPTATION 112 + + XII. SYLVIA JACKSON 120 + + XIII. DENIS REFUSES TO SPEAK 131 + + XIV. "AND ONE OTHER!" 140 + + XV. DESMOND GOES UNDER 155 + + XVI. THE VIRTUE OF GREY TOWN 167 + + XVII. FATHER HEALY'S MISSION 180 + + XVIII. THROUGH THE GORGE 186 + + XIX. "THE FREELANCE" 193 + + XX. GREAT IS THE TRUTH 199 + + XXI. THE BISHOP'S SOLUTION 211 + + XXII. A LINK BROKEN 221 + + XXIII. A SICK CALL 232 + + XXIV. DENIS QUIRK'S HOMECOMING 238 + + XXV. A PROPOSAL 245 + + XXVI. GOOD AND EVIL 252 + +POST SCRIPTUM 257 + + + + +Grey Town. + +An Australian Story. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE PRESBYTERY. + + +Grey Town looks down on the river and the ocean, its streets climbing up +the small hill upon which the town has been built. It is a pleasant +place in which to live, where, in winter, the air is warm, and in summer +a cool breeze from the ocean tempers the hottest day. At the feet of the +town the ocean beats restlessly on the narrow strip of beach that +fringes the shore. On the distant horizon one may often see the black +smoke, sometimes the hull, shadowy and indistinct, of some passing +steamer. But only the smaller steamers or ships can enter the bay, for +there are reefs and sand-spits, to touch which would mean destruction. +Beside the town, the River Grey enters the ocean. When the tide is high, +and the river swollen by heavy rains, there is a turmoil of waters at +the bar, ocean and river contending for mastery. Then the river, banked +up at its exit, overflows the low lands that lie to the east of the +town, turning a green valley into a muddy lake. At other times the Grey +valley is green and pleasant, excepting where the masses of grey rock +from which it has its name jut out over the river. + +At the highest summit of the town stands the Catholic church, the +presbytery beside it. Years ago, when Father Healy came to his new +parish, he found an acre block, vacant and forlorn, the very summit of +the highest hill above the town. + +"This has been destined for my church. In accordance with precedent, I +shall build here," said the priest. + +The agent to whom he made the remark laughed doubtingly. He knew Grey +Town, man and woman, intimately; the peculiarities of Ebenezer Brown, +owner of this plot of land, were well known to him. + +"You can whistle for this site. It belongs to Ebenezer Brown," he said. + +"Ebenezer Brown has his price, I presume," remarked Father Healy. + +"He will sell this land--to an ordinary man--for twice its real value. +To you he will not sell at any price." + +"He shall have his price--from you. It will be worth four times its real +value in a few years. Go and buy the land." + +Thus was the site acquired, to the great indignation and consternation +of the late owner. + +"I might have named my own price if I had known who wanted it," he +growled. + +"You named your price, exactly double the true value," answered the +agent. + +"I could have got four times, six times, the real value, if you had +dropped a hint. I have been robbed." + +"Robbed!" cried the agent. "That would be a reversal of the ordinary +routine. You old villain!" he added, as Ebenezer Brown walked out of his +shop. + +The old man was wealthy, and a miser, each of which characteristics may +be corollary to the other. He made money by saving it; he saved it +because he loved it. Many things he had achieved by strategy. The "Grey +Town Observer," at one time the property of Michael O'Connor, was now +Ebenezer Brown's, won by usury. The late owner, a careless man, was +content to continue as editor, and thus serve the man who had robbed +him. He was sufficiently shrewd to recognise his employer's character, +yet at once too easy going and honest to prove other than a good +servant. But he held, and always expressed, a heartfelt contempt for his +master. + +St. Mary's Church at Grey Town is large and commodious, built of +bluestone, with a square tower. Over the porch is a statue of the +Blessed Virgin, and from that position She appears to look down upon and +bless the town. + +When the church was built, many, both friends and enemies, declared that +it was too large. + +"It's all church, and no congregation," asserted Wise, the bootmaker, +whose custom it was to address a few disciples in the Public Gardens +every Sunday. + +This remark was repeated to Father Healy, and smilingly he answered: + +"The congregation will grow, but the church can't do that. Mr. Wise has +a larger church, and a smaller congregation, all said and done." + +And, sure enough, the congregation increased, until there was barely +standing room for many at the early morning Mass. + +In front, St. Mary's looks down on St. Paul's, the Anglican place of +worship; below it, on the further slope of the hill, stands the +Presbyterian chapel. On Sundays the three bells clang a loud discord. +Throughout the week, however, Mr. Green, of St. Luke's, and Mr. +Matthews, the Presbyterian minister, frequently visited Father Healy to +discuss any subject but religion. + +Saving for Wise, chief Ishmaelite of Grey Town, and opposed to every +religious and political belief, peace prevailed in Grey Town. Father +Healy came to the town desiring concord, and, after a short and natural +estrangement, first Mr. Green, the Anglican clergyman, and later the +other ministers of the town, had offered him the hand of friendship. +There were, in fact, no greater friends and truer admirers than Father +Healy and Mr. Green. When the priest had built his school, and invited +the Bishop to lay the foundation stone, Mr. Green was present to offer +his congratulations. Many an evening the two sat at bridge with Clarke, +the solicitor, and Michael O'Connor to make the table complete. + +"Let Grey Town be an object lesson to Australia," laughed Father Healy. +"Here we value one another as citizens, and overlook each other's +religious misbeliefs." + +To this Mr. Green replied smilingly: + +"You only need one thing to be a perfect man, Father." + +"And that is to pull you over the wall beside me," cried the priest. + +If St. Mary's Church were large and imposing, the presbytery was old and +diminutive. Father Healy had bought the land and the house as it stood +on a block beside the one for church and schools, and he had made no +attempt to enlarge or improve the house. + +"Time enough to build when I am dead," he remarked in answer to a +deputation of his parishioners. + +"But it is a disgrace to us to see you living in a ramshackle building, +half in and half out of doors," said the spokesman. + +"I have built church and schools, and I am content," replied the priest. +"Let the next man erect a presbytery. What there is, is enough for me, +and who is to grumble, if not I?" + +Therewith he dismissed the deputation kindly, and returned to his +study, the bow window of which looked out on the garden, a quiet +solitude, where the priest often walked to say his Office. It was like +the soul of good Father Healy, a peaceful spot, filled with +sweet-smelling, simple flowers. + +This garden was the pride of Dan, who acted as general factotum at the +presbytery, and laboured and whistled the day through, with a smiling +recognition for all comers. + +"'Tis the finest piece of garden in Grey Town," he was wont to declare. +"Give me the old wallflower, the rose, violet, and carnation, and let +others be stocking their beds with dahlias and chrysanthemums, which +have no smell to remind you of the old country." + +There were few idle moments in his life. He scrubbed the presbytery +verandah, and cleaned the windows, groomed and doctored the priest's +horses, fed the fowls, and spent his leisure in an attempt to keep the +school children out of the presbytery garden and orchard. In the last of +his tasks he succeeded with all the scholars but Tim O'Neill. But Tim +had respect for no one, not even Dan. Yet Father Healy prophesied good +things of Tim. + +Mrs. Maggie Gorman was housekeeper at the presbytery, a woman whose sour +face concealed a kindly heart. She and Dan were for ever disputing, yet +each held the other in profound respect. Let anyone traduce Mrs. Gorman, +and Dan was bristling all over like an indignant porcupine. Say one word +disrespectful of Dan before Mrs. Gorman, and you might wish that one +word unspoken. Molly Healy, the priest's sister, declared that they +quarrelled, yet loved, one another, as if they had been sister and +brother. + +Molly Healy herself spent a large part of her life in a struggle for +precedence with Mrs. Gorman. But the housekeeper contrived to hold her +position of authority. + +"A child like you," she remarked, "to be troubling herself with the +grocer and butcher! When you are as old as myself, I shall let you have +your own way all the time." + +To this Molly acquiesced of necessity; there was no appeal to her +brother. + +"Now, peace! peace!" he would say. "I am here to look after the souls of +the parish, and you must not trouble me about the affairs of the flesh. +Let Mrs. Gorman take care of the meat, since it pleases her. If you +don't, she will be poisoning us." + +Molly Healy was a notability in Grey Town. Saving the school children, +no one called her any other title but "Molly," or "Molly Healy." If a +friend had chanced to do so, it would have caused Molly bitter pain, for +she was a kindly soul. Plain, yet not unpleasing, she had a +superabundance of bright Irish humour, and a quickness of repartee that +amused all, but offended none. + +"It's only Molly Healy," people were accustomed to say, "and she's the +sweetest, kindest creature, that wouldn't hurt a fly, of intention." + +When she first came to Grey Town the girl had been desperately +home-sick, and many the longing glance she had cast at the ocean, +wishing that it might carry her back to dear old Ireland. But now she +was content to live in the bright, friendly land that was so kindly a +foster-mother to her. And there were a multitude of duties, mostly +self-imposed, to keep her mind and body busy. + +In the presbytery grounds there was a veritable menagerie of animal +pensioners dependent on her--two dogs, three cats, with a numerous +progeny of kittens; a cockatoo and magpie, marvellously gifted in slang; +two seagulls, kept for the benefit of the snails that infested the +garden; an aviary of small, brightly-coloured birds; and, lastly, a +miserable sheep, rescued from death by the roadside to live in an +asthmatic condition of semi-invalidism. + +Then there were the human pensioners, men and women of any belief, who +came periodically for food. They worshipped Molly Healy. But her kingdom +was over the ragamuffins and rapscallions of the town, with whom she +stood on the friendliest terms. + +"Sure, I am reforming the imps," she was accustomed to say. + +But it was a notorious fact that her young proteges rarely developed +into moral perfection. + +Such was the presbytery of Grey Town and its inmates in the days of +which I am writing. + +Father Healy was eating a perfunctory dinner in the dining-room, Mrs. +Gorman and Dan wrangled in the kitchen, but Molly sat in the playground +of the school, with Tim O'Neill, the culprit, facing her, and a circle +of grinning children's faces as a background. + +Tim had the face of a cherub, if we can conceive a cherub with an +habitual grime on his countenance. Curly yellow hair, innocent blue +eyes, for ever twinkling, a dimple in each cheek; add to these a +dilapidated suit of clothes, and a sorely battered hat, and you have Tim +O'Neill, the scourge of Grey Town. + +"You will confess now, Tim O'Neill," said Molly Healy, with an assumed +severity. + +"It's to the Father I'll be confessing," replied the boy. + +"No, Tim; it's to me. The Father is too gentle, and you know it. Didn't +I see you with my own eyes?" + +"Where's the need of me telling you, then?" asked the unabashed Tim, +careful the while to keep beyond the reach of her hands. + +At this retort the audience giggled. They admired the audacity of Tim, +although most of them were model children. For, as his distracted mother +often said, in excuse of her own leniency, "Tim has such a way with +him. You couldn't help but smile, even when he is at his wickedest." + +"I saw you stealing the apples," cried Molly, disregarding his +rejoinder. "Do you know that it's a big sin to steal the priest's +apples? It's"--she hesitated for a moment, anxious to leave a lasting +impression--"it's sacrilege." + +The corners of Tim's mouth dropped, and his face became grave. + +"Is it, miss?" he asked soberly. + +"Now, listen to me, Tim, and I will teach you logic. Of course you know +what logic is?" + +"Is it a pain here?" asked Tim, pointing to the region below his +waistcoat, the twinkle returning to his eye. Molly sternly repressed a +tendency to giggle. + +"No, logic is the art of reasoning," she replied, gravely. "Is that the +presbytery, Tim?" + +"What else?" asked Tim, scornfully. + +"And to whom does it belong?" + +"To the Father, to be sure." + +"No, Tim; you are wrong." + +Mrs. Gorman hailed the group from the kitchen door. + +"Is Miss Molly there? Then send her to her dinner." + +"I am busy, teaching logic. Sure the dinner can wait," replied Molly. +"Now, Tim, and whose is it?" + +"Is it the bishop's, Miss?" + +"Wrong again. It belongs to the Church, and to steal from the Church is +sacrilege. That's a big sin for a little boy to carry on his conscience, +Tim O'Neill." + +"It was only for a lark I took them, miss. Joe Adams there dared me to +do it." And, his face brightening at the thought, "I have them in my +pocket." + +"Have you tasted them, Tim?" + +"They have been bitten--by someone, miss," replied Tim, feeling in his +pocket as if to assure himself of the fact. + +"Let me see them," said the relentless Molly. + +"There is not much left to see." + +"Was it you that tasted them?" + +"Me and Joe, miss. He was hungry." + +"Then you and Joe will die, Tim," cried the tormentor in a melancholy +voice. + +Tim's face became gloomy, while Joe Adams rubbed his eyes with his +knuckles. + +"No, miss. Don't be saying that," sighed Tim, now thoroughly repentant. + +"Yes, you will--and so will I--and the doctor, too." + +"I really am ashamed of you, Molly. This is persecution of an innocent +boy." + +The big, gaunt man, with deeply-lined face and iron grey moustache, who +had paused to smile at the conversation, feigned an expression of +disapproval as she looked up smilingly into his face. + +"Persecution! For shame, Doctor Marsh, to be making such a suggestion. +It's logic I'm teaching Tim--the apples, Tim, the apples!" + +"They're not apples, miss," replied Tim. + +"What are they, then?" + +"They're cores, miss." + +This reply was greeted with a shout of laughter, often repeated as Tim +produced the remains of four apples, one by one. + +"There you are, doctor. Now, what would you do to Tim," asked Molly. + +"Tell him to take what he wants and change him from a criminal to a +law-abiding citizen." + +"There you are, Tim. Do you see the doctor's watch--it's a fine gold +repeater. Take it, if you are wanting a watch!" + +Tim riveted his eyes on the doctor's watch-chain, and the latter put +his fingers on it to assure himself of its safety. + +"Run away, Tim, and don't be stealing again," he cried. "And you come +inside with me, Molly, and eat your dinner. It will do you more good +than a ton of logic. I have business with Father Healy." + +The children scattered in all directions, saving for a group around Tim +O'Neill. To these he related an amended version of the late +conversation. + +"'D'you know what sacrilege is?' says she. + +"'Sacrilege!' says I, scratching my head. 'Will it be telling lies?' + +"'It may be, and it may not be,' says she. + +"'Then I think it is sacrilege you're after, yourself. To be telling +lies with a brother a priest is sacrilege, sure enough.' + +"With that she wiped her eyes with the back of one hand. I think it's +shamed she is." A burst of laughter rewarded the young sinner, and he +darted off for home to gobble down a cold dinner. + +"Is Michael O'Connor worse?" asked Molly, anxiously. + +"He is dying," replied the doctor. + +"What will Kathleen and Desmond do?" + +"Desmond can battle for himself, but Kathleen's future needs +consideration." + +"Why not go to the Quirks, at Layton?" + +"I would not allow Kathleen O'Connor to go to everybody. I must discuss +the matter with Father Healy," replied Doctor Marsh. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +MICHAEL O'CONNOR. + + +Michael O'Connor died placidly, as he had always lived. An improvident +man, as the world uses the term, he undoubtedly had been, but this arose +from a defect of character. He never could refuse to give when asked to +do so; his failing sprang from an excess of generosity. + +A clever man, brilliant in his own chosen career of journalism, +opportunities to make money had not been wanting; and money had been +made and spent. He had founded "The Grey Town Observer," now a valuable +property, but the paper had passed into the hands of Ebenezer Brown, +with Michael O'Connor as editor; for Ebenezer Brown recognised that no +other man could better fill the position. But the proprietor was careful +to make the utmost of his employee's lack of worldly wisdom, offering +him the very lowest salary that ever an editor worked for. The +consequence was that Michael O'Connor lived and died an impecunious man, +whose only legacy to his children was the record of a virtuous life. + +Yet no fear had troubled the man as life slowly slipped from him. He had +wronged none: to the poor he had given generously; staunch to his +friends, loved by his children, and always faithful to his religion, why +should he have any regrets? "Father," he said to Father Healy, "I am not +afraid to die, for God is good; He will provide for Kathleen and +Desmond, as He has provided for me, always a child. Father, always a +child, as my father told me I would be." + +"Just a child," said Father Healy, as he looked at the peaceful face of +the dear friend, "as innocent and helpless as a child. God will reward +him for what he has done for others." + +Death was very near Michael O'Connor at that moment; it hovered over his +bed, waiting every moment with thin, outstretched hands to snatch him +away. On his bed he lay, his face waxen in colour and emaciated, while +the white hands clasped the crucifix. Yet even then one might realise +that the dying man had at one time been called "handsome Mike O'Connor." +In the prime of his manhood--tall, broad-shouldered, and always +cheerful--no other man in the district could look anything but +insignificant beside him. But many a one from among the Irish farmers +knew that he came of a line always noted for beauty. Men and women, the +O'Connors had rarely failed in good looks, and as rarely succeeded in +keeping their money. The dying man was, after all, the inheritor of his +ancestors' virtues and failings. + +The candles were lighted by the bedside. Father Healy, with Kathleen and +Desmond, knelt on the floor reciting the prayers for the dying. The +children were crying, Kathleen impulsively and without restraint, +Desmond secretively, as men are accustomed to weep. The sick man's +breathing came more slowly and weakly, his lips framed an occasional act +of contrition which he was too feeble to utter. When the end came, it +was a gentle transition from life to death. Through it all the old clock +on the bedroom mantelpiece, dark-stained, and of a quaint design, ticked +on as it had done ever since Desmond could remember. Symbolic it seemed +of the world, that heeds not death; but moves, always onwards, replacing +each one as he dies. + +They clothed him in the brown habit, and placed him in the coffin, with +the crucifix on his breast. There his many friends came to pray for +him--men, women, little children, among them the good nuns, to whom he +had always been a benefactor. It may safely be said that Michael +O'Connor had not left one enemy behind him. If his life had been +something of a failure, the man's death was a complete success. + +But there were the children to think of, Kathleen and Desmond, +inheritors of his good looks, but of nothing beyond that. Left young in +the hands of a careless, happy-go-lucky father, who had always +religiously applied the text of Scripture, "Sufficient unto the day is +the evil thereof," what were they to do for themselves? Desmond could +draw and paint; he had the usual smattering of knowledge to be obtained +in an ordinary school. Beyond these accomplishments and his father's +gift for writing, the big, handsome, curly-haired fellow, half man and +half boy, had nothing wherewith to fight the world. + +"Writing for him, I suppose?" suggested Father Healy, as he and Dr. +Marsh drove out in the doctor's gig to interview the O'Connors. + +Dr. Marsh grunted, as was his way. He never had paid much attention to +Desmond O'Connor. His opinion of the boy was that a battle with the +world would do him nothing but good. + +"Whatever he can get. If he does that well, he may begin to pick and +choose," he said. "But Kathleen needs consideration." + +Kathleen O'Connor was undoubtedly the doctor's favourite. She was such a +sweet girl, beautiful in face, gentle in her manners. In her black dress +she had looked so fragile and broken with grief on the day of her +father's funeral. Vainly trying to maintain composure, yet shaken +constantly by an involuntary sob, she had marvellously affected the +tough old doctor, to whom female beauty appealed, although he affected +to scorn it. + +"The girl is beautiful," he said, "and it's a dangerous gift with +weakness." + +"The O'Connors always were beautiful," replied Father Healy. "Michael's +father was the finest man in Ireland. They were born to be kings, and +spent their money as if they had been emperors, while the money lasted. +The boy is as grand as the girl, and I am fearful for him." + +"Oh, there is good and bad in the boy, as there is in every man of us." + +He and the priest were sworn friends and allies, although they argued on +every question that ever arose local or general--the doctor because he +liked it, and Father Healy to humour a friend. At the gate of "Avoca," +as Michael O'Connor had called his house, the doctor reined his horse +in, and the two men scanned the dilapidated gate and unpainted fence, +part of the general decay of what had been a pleasant villa and garden +in the good days. + +"It's like poor Michael," sighed the priest. "He only troubled himself +about one thing, his soul. Well! that's saved, please God." + +"Hem!" grunted the doctor, "that won't help Kathleen." + +"It's a consolation to her, and always will be. To have had a good +father is of as much value as a fortune," replied the priest. + +"From your point of view, perhaps. There is only one thing you people +value--the soul. The poor body may look after itself, and often gets +more kicks than ha'pence." + +The priest smiled significantly. + +"You flatter us," he said. + +"Rubbish!" replied the doctor. "Why don't you look after yourself; +aren't you of more value than the people you are killing yourself for?" + +Father Healy laughed, for he was a stout, rubicund man. + +"I wonder whether you or I look the better nourished," he asked, +surveying the doctor's attenuated form. + +"Some day you will drop down dead," replied the other. + +"Death comes to all sooner or later," said his companion. + +"Avoca" had at one time been a fine property; now over everything lay +the mark of decay. A broad drive, covered with grass and weed; the +remains of beds, where thistles and docks were destroying the flowers +and lawns, knee-deep in the over-growth. + +"And mortgaged for more than its value," sighed the priest. + +"Do you approve of this?" asked Dr. Marsh, with a comprehensive wave of +the hand. + +"I do not. But better this than order and iniquity. I would like the +property neat, tidy and unencumbered, with a fortune in the bank for +Kathleen. But," Father Healy added with a sigh, "one can't have +everything exactly as he wishes." + +"It is the fault of your system," growled the doctor; "you are too +strong on Eternity." + +"I could not be too strong on that. But I always preach prudence and +thrift." + +"Bah! The presbytery is a sanctuary for all the loafers in Grey Town." + +"You had better discuss that with Molly. She is almsgiver at the +presbytery. But she tells me," the priest continued, with a twinkle in +his eye, "that she doles out the food and money prudently, and lectures +once a week on the virtues of total abstinence and hard work." + +Even the doctor could not refrain from a dry chuckle at this aspect of +Molly Healy's almsgiving. + +"Then the lectures are as fruitless as your sermons," he said. "If +Michael O'Connor had copied Joe Sheahan----." + +"Ah, there you are! Didn't I teach Joe worldly prudence myself?" cried +the priest, hastily. "I am proud of Joe, a good honest man, for all his +money." + +They drew up in front of the house, and Desmond came running down the +steps to take the doctor's horse. He was a big, bright-faced fellow, +though he still bore the marks of the recent sorrow in the black band on +his arm. + +"Let me take the mare to the stable," he said. + +Priest and doctor slowly descended from the gig and entered the house +side by side, noting that here, too, were signs of decay and of neglect. + +Kathleen emerged from the dining-room to greet them. In her face she +still bore traces of recent tears, for she was a woman, and grief was +not so easily forgotten by her as by her brother. + +"Mr. Brown is waiting for you in the dining-room," she said, after the +first greetings. + +"Ebenezer Brown?" said the doctor, as if to turn back. "What brings him +here?" + +"Just the same errand as yours," cried a harsh voice from the +dining-room. "To mourn over the man you killed." + +A dry cackle followed the speech. But no one heeded what Ebenezer Brown +said, so notorious was he in the town for a love of money and a bitter +tongue. The doctor accepted the speech as a challenge, and entered the +room defiantly, while Father Healy followed him. + +"You didn't expect to find me here," said the old man, who sat in an +armchair, a thin, stooped figure, with a pallid face and white hair. + +"We did not," replied the priest. + +The doctor murmured something about vultures and the dead. + +"Eh?" asked the old man, feigning a convenient deafness, "I might expect +you and the priest; the one generally prepares the way for the other." + +"I am expecting it will be a difficult meeting," murmured the priest. + +Dr. Marsh, however, made no reply to the remark. He was awaiting a +convenient time to lunge at his enemy, and he sat down opposite Ebenezer +Brown, regarding him critically. After a moment's pause, he asked: + +"Are your affairs in order, Brown?" + +"Mind your own business, sub-dividing men into small allotments," +snapped the other. + +"I should arrange everything if I were you. Your money won't buy you a +passport," said the doctor. "Increase your subscription to the hospital +from threepence to sixpence, and lower your rents to twice what they +should be, before it is too late. Your time will come before long." + +"You won't get a penny of my money, living or dead," replied Ebenezer +Brown. + +"That shows you have a little wisdom remaining, for I would poison you, +and believe I was performing an act of public utility." + +"Let us get to business," cried the priest, anxious to terminate the +wrangle. "Dr. Marsh and I am here to discuss what is to be done with +Michael O'Connor's children." + +"I am here to help the children," said Ebenezer. "Not with money," he +added hastily, "but with sound advice." + +"The only thing you ever gave away," commented the doctor. + +"Eh? Yes; it is more valuable than money," said Ebenezer, relapsing into +deafness. "Now, Desmond there will have to work. He has been idle too +long." + +To this remark Kathleen replied hastily: + +"My father thought----." + +"You must speak up if you expect me to hear, young lady," growled +Ebenezer. "Your father was improvident." + +"A noble and generous man," replied the doctor, hotly. + +"No doubt you think so. He lined your pockets, I believe." + +Dr. Marsh could stand this no longer. He rose, pale with fury, but +Father Healy gently pushed him back into his seat. + +"Don't be paying attention to the old man," he said. + +The two older men glared at one another across the table; the doctor +growled out "Miser," Ebenezer muttered "Quack." But, fortunately, +Desmond O'Connor entered the room at that moment, and distracted the +attention of the company. + +"Well, Desmond," cried Ebenezer Brown, "I need an office-boy; how would +you like the billet?" + +Desmond paused in the door, his face flushing crimson. He was 18, and to +be termed an office-boy sounded like an insult. Father Healy, noting his +shame and anger, went to the boy and placed a hand kindly on his +shoulder. + +"Take the rungs one by one if you would be at the top, Desmond," he +said. + +"He will be a long time getting there," sneered Ebenezer Brown. + +Father Healy offered no reply. He had not come to quarrel, and where was +the use? But Dr. Marsh answered quickly: + +"You may sneer now, Ebenezer Brown--it is easy to do that--but the day +will come when you will be asking Father Healy to help you, for he is as +certain to be saved as you to be lost." + +This defence came as a surprise to everyone present, perhaps most of all +to the priest. The doctor was accustomed to scold and taunt him; this +unexpected championship almost took his breath away. Ebenezer Brown was +too greatly annoyed even to retort, but he glanced vindictively at the +doctor. + +"And now for Kathleen. Mrs. Quirk would like to have her at Layton as a +companion and friend," said the priest. + +"Friend!" grunted the doctor. "Quirk was a grocer." + +"And where is the harm in that?" asked Father Healy, "if he were +honest?" + +"Honest?" commented Ebenezer Brown. "There never was an honest grocer; +they all put sand in their sugar, and sell their second-rate goods as +the best quality. I know them." + +"Set a thief to catch a thief," cried the doctor. "How did you make your +money?" + +"Honestly! Not as you did, by poisoning your rich patients after they +have left you a legacy," replied Ebenezer Brown. + +"Honestly! You caught poor Harris drunk, and swindled him out of his +land," retorted Dr. Marsh. + +"Peace! Peace!" sighed Father Healy, attempting to take the doctor away +by force. + +"And you murdered Mat Devlin, as you've murdered a host of others," +cried Ebenezer Brown. + +Dr. Marsh broke from his friend's arm and went round the table where +Ebenezer Brown sat. Shaking his fist in the old man's face, he cried: + +"If I had one per cent. of your sins on my shoulders, I would never +sleep again. I am tempted to give you the little blow that would be the +end of you; but I don't like to rob you of your small hope of +repentance." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE QUIRKS. + + +A splendid house, extravagantly furnished, green lawns, gardens bright +in colours, and rich pasture lands around. Inside the house a crotchety +old man and a lonely woman. Such was Kathleen O'Connor's new home at +"Layton." + +The name, "Samuel Quirk, Grocer," had reposed over the front of a small +shop in a small street of Collingwood for many years. The grocer was +known to the district as a shrewd tradesman on a small scale, and a keen +politician. He had a limited connection with certain well-tried +customers, and a number of irregular clients who came and went. In the +neighbourhood where he lived, the grocer must assuredly have gone under +had he not conducted a cash business. As it was, he kept his head above +water and lived a quiet life, respected by his neighbours. + +One day the postman brought a letter that completely altered the Quirks' +scheme of life. It came from Boston, bringing news of a brother's death, +and the gift of a great fortune to the Quirks. Such an unexpected event +brought confusion into the orderly life of the old people. + +"What shall we do with all the money?" the grocer asked his wife. + +She was sitting over her knitting at the time, for her nimble fingers +were seldom idle. + +"Why not ask Father Healy?" she answered at once; for Father Healy was +her one idea of wisdom. Years ago the priest had been a curate in +Collingwood, and had there entwined himself about many hearts, Mrs. +Quirk's among the number. Even now she wrote to him when her heart was +troubled. + +"Father Healy! And why ask him?" replied the old man. + +He always began by disputing his wife's suggestions, but generally ended +by putting them into practice. + +"He is the good, wise man," replied Mrs. Quirk. "Did he ever tell me +anything I should do that was not the only thing to do?" + +Samuel Quirk grunted disbelievingly. "Oh, he's right enough for the +soul, but what would Father Healy know about the body?" he asked. + +Mrs. Quirk having placed the yeast in his mind, left it to ferment. She +well knew that in a few days' time a letter would be despatched to the +Presbytery at Grey Town. And this happened as she anticipated. In due +course, too, the answer came back to them. + +"Why not buy 'Layton' and settle down on the land? It will give you +something to do, and lengthen your own and Mrs. Quirk's life," the +priest wrote. + +Samuel Quirk read the letter to his wife, commenting unfavourably on it +the while. + +"Buy a farm? What would I be doing on a farm?" he asked. + +"Why not go down to Grey Town and see the place for yourself?" suggested +Mrs. Quirk. + +After a prolonged argument, the old man again accepted her advice. It +was something of an adventure to him to journey so far by train, and to +spend a night away from home. But it was far worse for the old woman, +as he always termed her, to be alone in the shop for thirty-six hours. +She missed her husband's rough voice, the heavy shuffling tread, above +all the rare endearments that she valued for their infrequency. When +Samuel Quirk returned he was received as if his absence had lasted +twelve months. + +"Well? Are we to go?" she asked. + +"It's done. The place is bought and sold, and it's mine--and yours," he +answered. + +"Is it a grand place?" she questioned. + +"It's as grand as the Governor's house," replied the old man. "I +couldn't count the rooms, and the gardens are amazing." + +A sigh came from her lips as she cast her eyes around the small +sitting-room where every object was familiar. + +"Can we take our things with us?" she asked. + +"Take these!" he replied scornfully. "I've bought furniture, cows and +horses, everything. What would we do with these?" + +He was a man, and she a woman, whose heart was devoted to these old +familiar, useful friends. A few of them she took with her, and placed in +her own room at the new home, among them the old cane chair where her +husband had sat, night after night, to smoke his pipe. + +In the new home, Samuel Quirk soon found work and pleasure in +supervising the employees. Of agriculture and horticulture he knew +nothing, but he gathered knowledge speedily as he stood over his +workers. He bore the transplanting well, and throve in the new soil, +while Mrs. Quirk was lonely and sad. There were none of her old cronies +with whom to discuss small gossip over the counter or in the back room +behind the shop. She missed the noise of the great city; the house was +so large that it frightened her. When Kathleen O'Connor came, the old +woman put her arm lovingly around her and said: + +"Sure you will be coming to stay, Honey?" + +"I hope so," replied the girl. + +"Now, don't be calling me Mrs. Quirk; just call me Granny, as all the +girls did in Melbourne. It was: 'How are ye, Granny?' and 'How are the +rheumatics, Granny?' I miss the bright girls now." + +Kathleen realised that here was a lonely soul, and found all the +expected strangeness in the new life vanish from her. + +She set herself to the purpose of making Mrs. Quirk happy, devising a +hundred means to accomplish this. In the house she interested the old +lady in reading, with fancy work, and, above all, with the artistic +arrangement of the rooms. + +"There is no reason why things should not be pretty," she said. "Let us +begin with your own room, and gradually transform the house. It is so +ugly now." + +"Ugly!" cried Mrs. Quirk; "to my mind it's grand--far too grand for a +plain woman like me. But you're an O'Connor, Honey, and 'tis natural you +would know more about these things than me. Didn't I know your +grandmother? Didn't I work for her myself? But don't be telling the old +man I told you. It is strange having you in my house." + +Kathleen turned the conversation into another channel. But she could not +help reflecting upon the vicissitudes of life. A few years ago and Mrs. +Quirk was a servant in her grand-parents' house; now she, by a quick +reversal of the wheel of fortune, found herself practically a servant to +Mrs. Quirk. + +But her employer never permitted such a thought to enter her own mind; +it seemed almost as unthinkable as a heresy against her Faith. + +"You are my friend," she told the girl; "though it is hard even to call +you that. Look at my hands and yours; mine that have scrubbed the floor +and been in the wash-tub, and yours that were just made to look at." + +Kathleen took one of the old lady's hands and kissed it. + +"And which are the better in the sight of God?" she asked; "the ones +that have done the work they were made to do, or those that are merely +objects of vanity? But I have worked with mine, too; scrubbed and +washed, like you." + +"Tis a wicked fate that made you have to do it; more shame to me for +calling what is done by Providence wicked. But it's a strange world, +Kathleen, this one; no one seems to be in their proper place. There's +Father Healy, him that should be a Bishop, still a priest." + +"Why not a Cardinal, or the Holy Father himself?" laughed Kathleen. + +"And why not? It's a wise Pope the Father would make," answered Mrs. +Quirk. "Not that I am finding any fault with the Holy Father," she added +quickly; "he is a great man, the greatest in the whole world, and the +wisest." + +Kathleen O'Connor exercised a remarkable influence on the old lady. Mrs. +Quirk had needed a companion, and an interest in her new life; these she +found in Kathleen. Together they slowly transformed the house, Samuel +Quirk grumbling and protesting at each innovation, while he aided them +the while with his purse. In a phaeton drawn by a quiet old pony, they +travelled about the district, never missing a daily visit to the +Catholic Church. + +"I go out to visit my friends. Shall I miss calling on the best Friend +ever I had?" Mrs. Quirk asked Kathleen. "In Collingwood I never missed +the morning Mass, nor the afternoon visit. Here it is too far to go to +Mass every day, but the Good Lord would miss me if I did not come once +in the day to see Him." + +"If I am not good, it will not be your fault," laughed Kathleen. + +"It will be nobody's fault but your own; but you couldn't help being +good. Didn't Father Healy tell me----." + +"Hush!" cried Kathleen; "you must not give Father Healy's secrets away." + +At the church gates they held a daily conference with Molly Healy. She +had interested Mrs. Quirk in her gamins, and was accustomed to draw upon +the old lady's purse when the Presbytery funds were low, or Father +Healy obdurate to her appeals. + +Molly Healy acted as sacristan in the church, and Father Healy was +accustomed to say: + +"If you attended to everything as you do to the Altar, you would be a +treasure to the husband that came seeking you." + +"It's not many are doing that," replied the girl. "I could not count +them on my fingers--because, even I can't count what does not exist." + +"How many would you be expecting at eighteen? You are but a child," he +answered. "Well, the Altar is a credit to you. You make the brass shine +as if it were gold." + +"Gold it would be, if I had my way, and the glass precious stones. But I +do the best with what there is," replied Molly. + +She dearly loved to hear a word of praise in return for her labours. +This Kathleen knew well, and she encouraged Mrs. Quirk to admire the +flowers and other decorations. The old lady readily did this, for she +was typically Irish in finding it far easier to give a generous measure +of encouragement than to blame the actions of another. + +"It is you, Molly," she would say--at first, until corrected by the +girl, it had been Miss Molly--"that can put the flowers in their proper +places! It is a pleasure to come into the church and find the altar so +beautiful. Those carnations, now, they remind me of Heaven." + +"It is dahlias they are, Mrs. Quirk," Molly would reply; "and out of +your own garden." + +"Is it dahlias? Well, I am getting a little blind, Molly; but the +beauty is there, whatever the flowers may be." + +Thus encouraged, Molly would speak of her proteges. + +"Joe McCarthy told me the same, and he thinks more praise is due to you +than me. You send me the flowers every day." + +"And why not? What better use for them? But which is Joe McCarthy?" Mrs. +Quirk might answer. + +"Don't you know Joe? Such a good boy, but unfortunate. He was with +Regan, driving the cart, when the horse ran away and broke himself and +the cart into small pieces. It was a mercy Joe was not in the cart," +Molly would continue. + +"Poor lad! And that was a misfortune. Is he badly hurt?" Mrs. Quirk +would ask. + +"Not hurt in his body, but dispirited. Regan discharged him without a +character. I went to him myself; it's a surly man he is. 'Why not give +the boy a testimonial?' I asked. 'It's the whip I will give him,' he +answered. That was all I got from Regan." + +"And why was the man so heartless?" asked Mrs. Quirk. + +"After all, Regan lost his horse and cart. You can scarcely blame him," +Kathleen would explain. + +"And hasn't he plenty of money to buy another? I have no patience with +Regan. And there is Joe, with a mother depending on him, out of work, +and with no testimonial to help him to another," Molly would reply. + +The result would be a few shillings from the old lady's purse, which +Joe would probably spend on "a good thing," that would just fail to +secure a race, as "good things" so often do. But Molly Healy was never +discouraged by such trifles as these. + +"What did you do with the money, Joe?" she would ask. + +"It was Harry Price told me to invest it on Blue Peter." + +"I told you to take it home to your mother. Shame on you, Joe, to be +wasting her food on horses." + +"It was like this. 'Would you be making a fortune?' Harry asked me. And +who wouldn't, Miss Molly, not you nor I. 'Blue Peter is a cert,' said +he; 'my brother Bill will be riding.' Could you resist that?" + +"Hem!" Molly would reply; "and did he win?" + +"If his neck had been as long as Smoker's he would have won," Joe would +explain. + +After a few days he would return to favour, and continue a pensioner +until he found work for a short time. But ill-luck ever dogged Joe's +footsteps, and his periods of work were ever briefer and briefer, until +he threatened to relapse into chronic idleness. Then, to her own +surprise, and that of all who knew her, Molly suddenly compelled Joe to +reform. + +"I have a place for you, Joe, and the last you will ever be getting," +she said. "It's a disgrace to me you are, and everyone saying I have +spoiled you. Mr. Quirk will take you on, and he is a slave-driver. He +stands over his men with a whip. It was hard work I had to get you the +place--milking the cows, and helping in the garden. But I told the man +you were a hard worker. If you don't work hard, Joe, it is the whip I +will give you with my own hands." + +Whether it was this threat, a fear of Mr. Quirk, or the effects of the +mission cannot be clearly said, but Joe McCarthy clung to his work until +he eventually became overseer at "Layton." With his change in habits, +Joe also acquired a self-respect that led him to dress neatly, and to +sign the pledge. Thenceforward Molly Healy quoted him as the proof of +her powers as a reformer when taunted because of the rabble over whom +she reigned. + +"There was Joe McCarthy, that would not work until I persuaded him," she +would say. "Leave the boys to me; I am correcting them." + +Yet only Mrs. Quirk had absolute confidence in the girl's vocation as a +reformer. The old lady was never told of a good-for-nothing son or +husband but she would cry: + +"Send him to Molly Healy. If there is any good in him, Molly will bring +it out." + +Her hearers, knowing of Molly's long succession of failures, naturally +smiled at these commendations. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +PROMOTION. + + +"You can run round to the meeting in the Town Hall to-night and see what +sort of a fist you make of it," said Cairns, the man who now sat in the +editorial chair of "The Grey Town Observer," to Desmond O'Connor, just +one month after the young man had been admitted to the office. + +"Thank you, sir," said Desmond, springing to his feet in his excitement. + +"It's a chance," said the editor. "Don't be too diffuse, but see that +you miss nothing. What is that paper in front of you?" He took the paper +from Desmond O'Connor's hands and held it at arm's length, while a +sardonic smile held possession of his face. + +"Shall I let the old man see it?" he asked. "Mr. Brown would like to see +himself as you see him, under the title of 'Old Eb.' By the way, if you +could catch Martin smiling to-night, and Langridge in tears, it would +help your report. You appear to bring out the salient features of a +handsome face, even if you accentuate them. Martin's teeth and +Langridge's nose are striking objects. Let us have them for to-morrow." + +Desmond returned to his type-writing with a sigh of satisfaction. In +this meeting he saw a road to promotion. + +Meeting Molly Healy on his way to luncheon, he paused to make her sharer +in his good fortune, for Molly and he had always been good comrades. + +Molly was in a tearing hurry at that moment. One of her dogs had +strayed, and she was beating the town to find him; but she paused to +listen to his tale. + +"Going to the meeting! Is it to speak?" she asked. + +"No," he replied contemptuously, "to report what the beggars say." + +"Just to write down the words of a lot of windbags. That's nothing! If I +were Ebenezer Brown, you would be in Mr. Cairns' place. But, good luck +to you, Desmond. I will set all the old women praying for you. Some day +you will be owning a paper yourself, if I can help you." + +"Thank you, Molly," he cried. + +The girl cast a wistful glance after him as he left her, for no one +admired Desmond O'Connor more than she. But the vision of a black dog +vanishing around a distant corner caused her to start in a hurried +pursuit. Round the corner she ran, straight into the arms of Constable +McSherry, who was coming sedately along the footpath in an opposite +direction to her own. + +"What would my wife say if she saw this?" he asked, as she cannoned into +him; "a young lady running into my arms?" + +"Don't be talking nonsense," she replied, laughingly. "Did you see a +dog?" + +"It's nothing but dogs," he answered. "Which was the one you were +after?" + +"A black-and-tan collie with a blue-ribbon round his neck, and a saucy +look on his face." + +"A blue ribbon around his neck? It wouldn't be the one I saw going into +the public-house, then?" + +The constable paused to consider, while Molly suddenly whirled down the +street and pounced on the errant collie. Seeing this, Constable McSherry +turned to continue his leisurely course of inspection. + +As Desmond returned from his hurried meal, he again met Molly, towing +her unwilling captive home. She signalled to Desmond to stop. + +"I have been thinking that you might take me to the meeting," she said. + +Desmond shook his head. + +"Not to-night, Molly. You would have me laughing all the time. There's a +circus coming next week; will you come to that?" + +"Do you think I am never serious?" the girl asked. "I would not so much +as smile." + +"It can't be done, Molly. I shall be sitting at a table writing for all +I am worth." + +"Then I will sit just behind you and torment you all the while," she +remarked vindictively. + +And such was her purpose when she induced Dr. Marsh to accompany her to +the Town Hall that evening. + +"You don't know what you are doing!" he protested. "I shall go to sleep, +I know. Did you ever hear me snore? They tell me it's like the grunt of +a boar when he is hungry after a seven days' fast." + +"Let me hear you do it now!" she laughed. "I am going there to-night +just to tease Desmond O'Connor. He refused to take me." + +"What is Desmond doing there?" asked the doctor. + +"Taking notes of the speeches. It won't be many notes he will take +to-night," she answered. + +"For shame, Molly. This is the boy's chance of promotion. If I take you, +we shall sit at the back of the hall." + +"Among the boys?" asked Molly. "Then you shall take me to enjoy the fun. +I'll ignore Desmond to-night; but I will be even with him for this." + +A political meeting, with two picked speakers to leaven a number of dull +and uninteresting harangues. It was not a very exciting entertainment. +But there were "the boys," vociferous, intolerant, sometimes amusing, to +enliven proceedings for Molly; while Desmond snatched up the salient +features in shorthand and with pencil. Samuel Quirk was a keen +politician, and he had transferred the scope of his energy from +Collingwood to Grey Town. Unlike many men, he had not changed his +politics with the change in his fortunes. He it was who had organised +the opposition. At his word a storm of protest, a roar of ironical +laughter, or a volley of interjections harassed the speakers on the +platform. And it was Samuel Quirk who asked the first questions at the +close of the meeting. Straightway Desmond transferred the old man to his +note-book, to appear on the following morning as "The Interjector in +Chief," in company with Martin and Langridge. + +"You have scored a bullseye," cried Cairns, when he had read Desmond's +report, and had glanced at the sketches. "You are promoted to the +reporting staff. Keep your observant faculties keen and your pencil +sharp, my boy, and we will make the old "Observer" boom." + +Samuel Quirk smiled when he saw himself in the morning's paper. + +"See here, old woman, what they have been doing to me!" he cried, as he +banged "The Observer" down in front of his wife at breakfast. + +With trembling hands, she adjusted her glasses, fully anticipating that +her husband had been sentenced to some heavy penalty for his political +creed. But when she saw him on the front sheet of the paper, with the +bellicose features of his face exaggerated, Mrs. Quirk was moved to +anger. + +"And who has been doing this?" she asked. "It is time something should +be done to put an end to this. It is an outrage----. Does he call +himself an artist?" she questioned, after studying the picture. + +"I think it's a very fine picture; perhaps the nose is a little large, +and the mouth, too. But it's quite a pleasant picture," said Samuel +Quirk complacently. + +"If I knew the man that had done it, sure I would make it quite +unpleasant for him," said Mrs. Quirk. + +"'Tis a sign of fame to be made a sketch of," said Samuel Quirk. "They +know that I have organised the boys, and this is the way they try to +have revenge." + +Therewith he went out to talk politics to his employes while he watched +them at work. + +"'Tis but eight hours you will do, lads, but it will be an honest eight +hours' work you will give me for the decent wages I pay you," he was +accustomed to say. + +Kathleen O'Connor recognised Desmond's hand in the sketch when Mrs. +Quirk showed it to her. She, however, considered it prudent not to +mention the artist's name, for she could see that Mrs. Quirk was deeply +hurt at what she regarded as an insult to the old man. Fortunately, +however, an event occurred during the day that entirely diverted Mrs. +Quirk's attention from the picture of her husband. + +It was one of Kathleen's duties to read to Mrs. Quirk the few letters +that came for her. + +"My sight is leaving me," the old lady remarked in excuse for her lack +of education, "and these spectacles don't appear to improve it." + +Therefore, Kathleen opened a letter, addressed in a man's bold +handwriting to "Mrs. Quirk, 26 Rainey-street, Collingwood," and +forwarded from that address. It had come from the United States, and had +evidently been delayed in transit, for the letter was dated three months +before it was received. + +"My dearest old mother," Kathleen began to read. + +"It's from Denis!" cried Mrs. Quirk. "Denis, that I believed was dead! +Call Mr. Quirk, my dear! Oh, this is too much joy! God is good, far too +good, to an undeserving old woman like me." + +Kathleen went out into the gardens and found Mr. Quirk, spade in hand, +busily instructing a raw recruit how to work. + +"There's no art in it," he remarked contemptuously. "'Tis merely a +matter of muscle. You won't do for me!" + +"Mrs. Quirk wants you in the dining-room," said Kathleen. + +"Wants me? And what for?" he asked. + +"She has a letter from your son." + +Mr. Quirk laughed contemptuously. But he paused in his work to reply. + +"My only son is dead these ten years. Is she mad?" + +"No, she is not," replied the girl indignantly. "I opened the letter +myself, and it is from your son." + +"I will come and see it. It is probably some idle vagabond that is +playing a trick on her," growled Samuel Quirk. "Here," he cried to the +labourer, "take the spade, and let me see what you can do." + +Kathleen was always annoyed by the old man's assumed contempt for his +wife. Samuel Quirk recognised the fact, and was secretly amused at it. +He feigned a greater intolerance and disrespect before the girl, just to +increase her indignation. Now, as she moved away, the picture of +resentment, he called out: + +"Tell her I am coming to expose the scamp. She is too soft. Every idle +fellow makes use of her." + +Kathleen found the old lady holding the opened letter upside down, +vainly attempting to decipher the writing, while the tears of joy +dropped from her eyes upon the pages. + +"Mr. Quirk does not believe it is from your son," said Kathleen. + +"Who but Denis would call me mother?" she asked. "But himself was just +saying that to annoy you; don't be taking too much notice of him. Read +it, dearie. Let me hear my boy speaking to me again." + +"I have prospered and made a fortune in America. I am coming home to +look after you and the father. Prepare to pack up and come with me to a +better home than the old one in Collingwood. I have been wanting all +these years to have the old mother, who sacrificed herself for me, +beside me." + +"And why not sacrifice myself for him? Wasn't he my only child? And a +dear boy--and good. Didn't my heart all but break with joy when I first +saw him serving the good priest's Mass! It was Father Healy's himself, +no less. Does he say anything about the Faith?" asked Mrs. Quirk. + +"I shall buy a fine home, with the church not half a mile away. You can +make the church your second home, as you did in Collingwood," read +Kathleen. + +Samuel Quirk marched relentlessly into the room, his face showing the +most determined incredulity it could assume. + +"Let me see the letter," he said, calmly taking it from Kathleen. + +"Could Denis write like this?" he asked. + +"And who better?" cried Mrs. Quirk. "Wasn't he the smartest boy at +school? Do you remember the day he won all those prizes?" + +A smile of pride overspread the old man's face for one moment, then he +remorselessly subdued it. + +"I am thinking it is some scamp that has heard how soft you are," he +remarked, as he read the letter. "Hem! I wonder how much money that +will be? And when will he be here?" + +As if in answer to his question, the sound of wheels was heard on the +avenue. Mrs. Quirk flew to the window, while the old man followed more +sedately. + +"It is himself!" cried Mrs. Quirk. "Let me be the first to bid him +welcome." + +She almost ran to the front door in her excitement, to find the strong +arms of a man around her. + +"Glory be to God! And is it Denis?" she sobbed. + +"Who else would it be?" answered the newcomer. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +DENIS QUIRK. + + +Cairns was compounded of energy, his policy to snatch from the hands of +progress all that was good, and make the uttermost use of it. "Try all +things," he would say. "Throw away the rubbish, and keep that which is +enduring." Under his management, "The Observer" advanced from a +second-class country paper to one but little inferior to the +metropolitan organs. + +One man whom he found on the staff he classified as hopeless. + +"Worse than this," he added, speaking to Desmond O'Connor, to whom he +unburdened himself, "'Gifford will never learn. He believes himself to +be a journalistic planet. I don't mind an ordinary honest fool that +knows it is a fool, but a fool that regards its own inane folly as the +final thing in wisdom is hopeless. Gifford must go." + +Here, however, Cairns found himself opposed to his employer. Ebenezer +Brown had so high a respect for Gifford that he had been sorely tempted, +after the death of Michael O'Connor, to place the sub-editor in the +editorial chair. For this promotion Gifford was fully prepared, and only +a very small incident preserved Ebenezer Brown from ruining his paper. +It had so chanced that the editor of a leading metropolitan paper had +come to the funeral of his former colleague, Michael O'Connor. Meeting +Ebenezer Brown after the funeral, he had asked: + +"Who will succeed O'Connor?" + +"I am thinking of promoting Gifford," replied the old man. + +"Gifford!" cried the editor, under whom many a journalist had graduated. +"Are you quite mad?" + +"Are you?" retorted Ebenezer Brown, hotly. + +'Many people say I am. But I was sane enough to shoot Gifford out the +first chance I had of ridding the paper of him. + +"You sent him to me with a yard of testimonial," growled Ebenezer Brown. + +"Diplomacy, my dear sir. I never make an enemy unless I find myself +compelled to do so in self-defence. You needed a new sub-editor, I a new +reporter, and I merely shuffled the cards and dealt them again. In your +case Gifford seems to have proved a success." + +"How do you know that?" asked the old man, rudely. + +"You are anxious to promote him." + +"On your recommendation. 'A brilliant journalist' you called him," cried +Ebenezer Brown. + +"And he has been with you six months. Surely you know him by this time?" + +"Perhaps you know a better," suggested the old man. + +"I know few worse, and I know one man the very man for 'The Observer'; +but I doubt if he will come to you," said the editor. + +"Why not?" asked Ebenezer Brown. + +"Because you sweat your employes. No man but O'Connor would have worked +as editor for the pittance you paid him. Cairns certainly will require a +fair salary and a free hand before he gives 'The Observer' a chance." + +Ebenezer Brown recognised the truth of what the editor said. His chief +regret was that Michael O'Connor had not lived for ever. However, after +prolonged negotiations, he accepted Cairns on the latter's own terms. + +It was another matter, however, when the editor demanded a more capable +lieutenant than Gifford. Here he found Ebenezer Brown inexorable, for +the sub-editor was linked to him by the triple bonds of flattery, +usefulness, and influence. He made it a rule to regard Ebenezer's every +action as perfection; outside the office he assisted the old man in his +business affairs; and he brought influence to bear in buttressing his +position against the assaults of his chief. The consequence was that he +remained as nominal sub-editor, while Cairns deputed Desmond O'Connor to +do the work. Gifford, recognising the slight, bore his chief and +subordinate no love, but, being unable to injure Cairns, bent himself to +take his revenge from the reporter. + +It was in his power to make his subordinate's life unpleasant, and this +he accomplished to the utmost limit of his capability. But he was not +satisfied with this; his purpose in life was to ruin Desmond. He sowed +the seeds of dislike in Ebenezer Brown's mind--an easy thing to +accomplish when one was so careless as Desmond O'Connor. + +Sketches he left lying about, and verses of poetry which were like +pointed barbs in the flesh of Ebenezer Brown. But when the old man +turned to Cairns suggesting the dismissal of the reporter, he received +small encouragement from the editor. + +"O'Connor is careless; I grant that. He is still a boy, and he acts on +impulses, often mistaken ones. He is very clever with his pencil, and +does not care a hang whom he caricatures. He has even had the cheek to +sketch me. I saw it. + +"And me, too," growled Ebenezer. + +"I saw that, too. I suppose Gifford exhibited it to you?" said Cairns. + +"Never mind how I saw it. It is impudence, insubordination, +ingratitude," replied the old man. + +"Hem!" coughed the editor, dubiously. + +"Look what his father owed to me." + +"And you to O'Connor," suggested Cairns. "I should put the ingratitude +on one side. O'Connor can go if you like, and I shall also retire." + +"Oh, nonsense, Cairns! You have a good billet cried Ebenezer. + +"No better than I deserve, I assure you. The long and short of it is +that I will not allow the petty jealousy of Gifford to deprive me of an +invaluable assistant. This is an ultimatum." + +Ebenezer Brown retired, grumbling to himself, while Cairns sought +Desmond O'Connor. + +"You are a hopeless young dog," he said, picking up a sketch. "A +racehorse! I presume you bet?" + +"Just a trifle now and again," replied the reporter, carelessly. "I won +a tenner over that horse." + +"Knowing the prejudices of your chief, I am surprised at you. Ebenezer +Brown detests racehorses." + +"It runs in the blood, sir. My father was worse than I. He would have +owned this paper but for a horse and jockey. The horse would have won +the Melbourne Cup but that it did not fall in with the jockey's plans. +The governor turned to Ebenezer Brown for assistance, and mortgaged 'The +Observer,' The old man should be eternally grateful to racehorses." + +"And here am I for ever fighting your battles. Why don't you help me? If +Ebenezer Brown knows that you gamble, he will shoot you out," +remonstrated Cairns. + +"He knew the governor's besetting sin, and never so much as remonstrated +with him," said Desmond. + +"Because your father was invaluable to him, and cheap, neither of which +qualifications you possess. There is another matter against you--in +fact, several other matters. You dabble in theatricals." + +Desmond O'Connor laughed. + +"Do you object to theatricals?" he asked. + +"Not in the least, excepting from a humanitarian point of view. My only +charge against your company is that you contemplate the mutilation of +'As You Like It.'" + +"Better to aim high," suggested Desmond O'Connor, "than to be content +with second-rate melodrama. We have a capable instructor, and we are +very humble, I assure you. Our attitude is one of deprecation; be +merciful our prayer." + +"Do you deserve mercy," asked the editor, "rendering none? But let that +pass. You at least, I am told, are among the passable players. But +Ebenezer Brown abhors plays and players; he detests billiards and cards; +strong drink is anathema to him. How can you expect to keep your +position--an actor, a billiard player, exponent of bridge, and one who +shouts and is shouted?" + +"I can only rely upon your support. All these things are harmless," said +the reporter. + +"Undoubtedly harmless in moderation. But the owner of this paper regards +horses, cards and billiards merely as media for gambling; he cannot +discriminate between cards as a pleasant relaxation and as a method for +playing 'beggar my neighbour.' Plays and strong drink he associates with +other vices. If you were a good and prudent young man, you would hide +your vices under a pious exterior--for home consumption." + +"Hypocrisy!" cried Desmond O'Connor. "I would rather be anything than a +hypocrite. What right has old Ebenezer Brown to come dictating to me and +preaching piety? Have you heard his history?" + +"Snatches of it," said Cairns. "It is the history of many other +successful men." + +"He is a robber, a mere bird of prey. He has built on the ruins of +widows and orphans.' The whole town knows what he is, and he deceives no +man, excepting Gifford and himself. Does he expect to deceive the +Almighty?" + +A sound behind them, half a cry and half a curse, caused the two men to +turn towards the door. There stood Ebenezer Brown, his accustomed pallor +changed to an unhealthy purple. + +"Go!" he cried, barely able to articulate the word in his rage, as he +pointed an attenuated finger towards the door. "You are an insubordinate +young dog! Go at once!" + +"One minute, Mr. Brown. I warned you that no one should dismiss my +subordinates but I. If O'Connor goes, I follow him." + +"As you please," gasped the old man. "There are others as clever as you, +and infinitely less expensive. You ungrateful young scapegrace!" he +added, turning on Desmond, "I have been a friend to you and to your +family. But for me you would have starved." + +With this he stalked out of the office, leaving the other men smiling +broadly in each other's faces at this outburst of impotent rage. + +"I am a stubborn sort of person," said Cairns, "and I rather like this +locality. Shall we stay in Grey Town and fight him?" + +Desmond eyed his superior with an unaffected surprise. + +"Fight him? But how?" he asked. + +"Come round to me to-night--no, to-morrow night, young man. I must see +one or two men of business in the town. After my interviews we will +discuss the best means of fighting Ebenezer." + +"Shall we take the old man at his word, and leave him in the lurch? Do +you think he could run 'The Observer' for himself?" asked Desmond. + +"No, Desmond; here I stay until he finds a successor. I love the old +'Observer,' and I am responsible for it while I remain on the staff. +After I go, I may take my revenge out of the ancient sinner." + +That day the work proceeded as usual. During the course of it a man came +into the office and asked for Desmond O'Connor. He was a big man, with a +good-humoured, ugly face, surmounted by curly black hair. He was tanned +by the sun, and his blue-grey Irish eyes peeped out from the +reddish-brown surroundings of his face. He had a determined mouth and +chin, a jaw that spoke of a struggle with the world, and of success in +that battle. + +"You are O'Connor?" he asked Desmond when he appeared. "I am Quirk, the +long lost and recently returned. Did Miss O'Connor speak of me?" + +"She did," replied Desmond, "and of your adventures. Could you favour me +with a brief recital of your career?" + +"For copy? No, my lad; I am reserving that for my own paper. Any chance +for another paper here?" he asked, casually. + +"You had better not ask me. I am still an employe of The Observer.'" + +"Still? Do you anticipate a move?" asked Quirk, leaning half over the +counter. + +"I do. I have my marching orders." + +"Been playing up, eh? Well, I was a holy terror at your age. I made the +old dad's life a torment to him, and sowed a bushel of grey hairs in the +mother's head. Is the boss in?" + +"Cairns? Yes, I think so." + +"Approachable?" asked Quirk. + +"Sometimes," replied Desmond. + +"What sort of forecast to-day--stormy?" + +"Knock at his door, and let him answer for himself." + +"Right. I will see you as I go out." + +He went to the editor's door, and knocked violently. There was no +response, and he knocked again--more violently. Then the door opened +suddenly, and Cairns confronted him in a white fury. + +"Now, what the dickens, sir," cried the editor, "brings your big +battering ram of a fist in contact with my door? Nature provides +earthquakes in these parts without your assistance, you noisy devil!" + +"Who are you shouting at?" answered Quirk, in an equal fury. "Can't a +man tap gently----." + +"Tap gently! What sort of a disturbance happens when you knock loudly? +What do you want with me?" + +"Nothing now. I came to speak to a man, and I find a grizzly bear. Can't +a man who has come from the other side of creation call on a local +celebrity but he must have his nose snapped off? Good-day to you, sir!" + +Cairns' sense of the humorous saved the situation. Recovering quickly +from his irritation, he burst into a roar of laughter. This, for the +moment, only added to the other man's indignation. + +"Are you laughing at me, sir?" he asked. + +"No, I was laughing at myself. I apologise to you; but you came at a +moment when I was hopelessly busy," replied Cairns. + +Quirk's face relaxed into a grim smile. He regarded the thin, humorous +face of the editor attentively. Satisfied with his survey, he said: + +"Well, I won't bother you just now. I know what it is to be in a tearing +hurry. I ran a newspaper myself in the States; you have to be here, +there, and everywhere to do that. Can't trust to anyone but yourself, +can you?" + +"Not a living soul. But I will give you five minutes if you slip +inside." + +Quirk entered the editor's office, and the door closed. In half an +hour's time it opened again, and the two men came out together. + +"Five minutes!" laughed Quirk as he shook Cairns' hand at the door. + +"You are such a fascinating man that the minutes have slipped away +unnoticed. You will be at my room to-night?" + +"Of course I will. Hard at it, young man?" he asked, with a friendly nod +to Desmond. + +"A twopenny-ha'penny report of a twopenny-ha'penny meeting," replied +Desmond, contemptuously. + +"Make it spicy; touch it up with a little humour. That's the way to make +journalism attractive. Cover a commonplace incident with the mantle of +merriment, and make the world laugh. Lord, how we love a good honest +laugh!" + +With this he went briskly out of the office, and Desmond turned to his +task with a renewed interest. There was a point here and a sentence +there that might be made humorous. When the speakers read his report of +what they had spoken, they discovered that there was, after all, a +latent wit in them hitherto quite unsuspected. Those who had been +privileged to hear them discovered that remarks had been made at which +they had laughed, and that the speakers were not such prosy old fossils +as they had suspected. + +"That man Quirk knows the secret of the new journalism," said Cairns to +Desmond. "It is not truth, or even a make-believe truth; it is to arouse +your readers' interest. Tickle them with humour; stuff them with the +sensational; let everything be brand-new. We will make the old +'Observer' gallop to beat us." + +Desmond raised his eyebrows and waited to hear more, but Cairns turned +on his heel, saying: + +"In a short time I may satisfy your curiosity, O'Connor; but there's a +lot to be done first." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +READJUSTMENT. + + +For weeks after Denis Quirk's homecoming Kathleen O'Connor was uncertain +as to her feeling towards him. + +He was ugly and abrupt, somewhat inquisitive, with none of those gentler +qualities that we term polish. He spoke his mind, and spoke it bluntly, +regardless of the feelings of others. Self-reliant and perfectly +satisfied with himself, he sometimes irritated the girl to the verge of +anger. But he was rarely angry, or, if he blazed out into sudden +passion, returned speedily to his customary imperturbability, and he was +always humorous. His mother he worshipped, and with her he was gentle as +a woman; his father he jested with in an affectionate manner. Kathleen +realised that he was a good son, while she resented his attitude to +herself. His abrupt questions, his curious searching looks led her to +believe that he was for ever testing her to discover the strength and +weakness of her character. This caused the girl to adopt an attitude of +defence, and to meet his inquisitive questions with replies that almost +bordered on discourtesy. + +Just a fortnight after his arrival, as she sat writing in the +breakfast-room at Layton, pausing now and again to watch the gambols of +Mrs. Quirk's Persian kitten, Denis Quirk marched into the room. He +picked up the kitten, and seated himself with it near the door. + +"Writing?" he asked, abruptly. + +His manner of questioning her, indicating to her mind a desire to know +as to whom and of what she was writing, aroused an immediate resentment +in the girl. + +"Yes, I am," she answered, shortly. + +He smiled at her manifest annoyance, and continued to play with the +kitten. + +"Fire away then and get it all off your chest," he said. + +Kathleen felt that writing was an impossibility under the circumstances, +but she was determined that he should not recognise her embarrassment. +Her nib flew relentlessly over the sheets, but the letter was +disconnected and dry. At last she gathered her writing materials +together, and rose to leave the room. + +"Where are you going?" he asked. + +"Never mind that," she replied. "I have never been asked to give an +account of my actions, and I do not intend to." + +Denis Quirk smiled yet more broadly. It was evident that her irritation +amused him. This did not make her the better pleased. + +"Sit down and talk to me," he suggested. + +"I have other and better things to do," she answered. + +He whistled the long-drawn note of surprise. His chair was across the +door, but he made no attempt to move it. + +"Angry?" he asked. + +"Will you please move your chair?" she replied. + +"Why should I? I am quite comfortable. Just sit down for five minutes +and talk about the old people. I have any number of questions to ask +you," he said. + +"You always have; but I have no time to answer them. Please move your +chair." + +"Do you always have your own way?" he asked. + +"Always--with gentlemen," she answered. + +"Then you shall have it this once with Denis Quirk, who neither +professes nor has the slightest wish to be--a gentleman." + +He rose and put his chair on one side. + +"Thank you," she said, as he held the door open for her. But, while she +went up the stairs to Mrs. Quirk's room, the eternal question was +repeating itself to her: "What do you think of this man?" + +She found old Mrs. Quirk in her room, arranging a series of photos. +There was Denis from infancy until the period when he had left his +home--ugly, but smiling from infancy to manhood. + +"What do you think of Denis? Isn't he grown into a fine man, and as full +of fun as if he were a boy? And doesn't he love his old mother?" asked +the fond old mother. + +"Why shouldn't he?" asked Kathleen. "I love her as if she were my own +mother." + +"God bless you, child. I believe you do. Did you see what he has brought +me? Brooches and shawls! But what good is jewellery to me? You must take +them." + +"No, no!" cried Kathleen, hastily. "You must keep them for Mr. Quirk's +wife." + +A smile lit up the old lady's face as she looked at the brooch in her +hand and then at Kathleen. + +"I just will do that same," she said. + +A peremptory knock at the door, and Denis himself entered. He smiled as +he noted the array of photographs. + +"Which is the uglier," he asked Kathleen, "the picture or the original? +Fire away, mother, and tell Miss O'Connor every detail of my life. Cut +my first tooth when I was seven days old; spoke--or did I swear--at +three months, fought my first fight on my first birthday, and I've been +fighting ever since." + +"Oh, Denis, Denis, you are as much an omadhaun as ever," sighed Mrs. +Quirk. "But he was a fine boy, Kathleen!" + +"And into a fine man he has grown, mother!" laughed Denis. "But what +could you expect with such a mother? Father alive, Miss O'Connor?" + +The abruptness of the question was quite disconcerting to Kathleen. + +"No," she replied; "my father is dead." + +"Sorry I asked," said Denis. + +"God rest his soul! They do say he was a great man; but what could you +expect, and him an O'Connor?" said Mrs. Quirk. + +"Hem!" began Denis, but he checked himself and asked: "Any relations +living, Miss O'Connor?" + +"There's her brother Desmond, as handsome as herself," said Mrs. Quirk. + +"Anything like me? But that's not to be expected. Where does he work?" + +"My brother is a reporter at 'The Observer' office," replied Kathleen. +Had it not been for Mrs. Quirk's presence she would have checked his +questions once and for all. + +"I must look him up to-day. I start operations in Grey Town this +afternoon. Did it ever strike you that this place needs stirring up? +It's been sleeping ever since it was born. I have come here to make +things hum, I tell you that." + +Kathleen laughed at the thought of Grey Town humming. All her life she +had known it as a gentle, quiet town, to which excitement was unknown +and undesired. + +"What do you intend to do?" she asked. + +"Everything," he answered. "See here, in twelve months' time you will +scarcely know Grey Town. There will be squalls, of course, and plenty of +fighting. But when I get to work I'll make the old place boom. Ran a +paper in the States, and divided the town into friends and enemies. I +was just over the last libel action brought against 'The Firebrand' by +the last enemy on my list when I sold out. The paper went like wildfire, +and the town all but doubled itself in my time. Nothing like a little +mustard and pepper if you want to make things go." + +"I prophesy that Grey Town will subdue even you. This is a very sleepy +atmosphere. No man remains vigorous for over six months; you will soon +be slumbering like the rest of us." + +"I shall be dead first," he answered. "You don't know me." + +"Nor you Grey Town. You are not our first reformer; we have had numbers +of them, and we have destroyed them without remorse," said Kathleen. + +From the window of the room they could look across fields now green in +the freshness of early summer, across the racecourse and park, to where +Grey Town climbed irregularly towards St. Mary's Church. There it lay, a +town whose streets were only partly made; where sanitation had halted in +its most primitive stages; where little attempt had been made to assist +the beauties of nature. Yet Grey Town was, in the distance, a pretty +spot, embowered in green trees, the blue smoke resting over it, and in +the distance the great blue ocean. Large buildings and small hovels, +well-cared for gardens and filthy back yards, imposing factories and +dilapidated shops--there was surely work here for an energetic reformer. +But Kathleen knew the strength of vested rights, the strength of +contented indolence; above all, the bitter tongue of scandal that was +ever ready to destroy a prophet. Others had fought with Grey Town and +failed; why not Denis Quirk? + +"No," he answered, reading her thoughts. "Grey Town has been waiting for +me, and to-morrow I start on Grey Town. See here! This town should be a +city. We need a few more cities, and Grey Town shall be one of the +first. Given half a dozen factories and an improved system of +railways----." + +"Factories!" laughed Kathleen, her eyes straying towards the town and +its open sea-front, where only a small peninsula of rock protected the +bay from the south-west gales. "You are dreaming, Mr. Quirk?" + +"Nothing is impossible nowadays. Why no factories in Grey Town? Shall +Melbourne possess all the good things? Let us provide for ourselves and +for other people, and bring money to the town. Factories Grey Town must +have to make agricultural implements, to turn our wool into blankets, +our wheat into flour, our milk into butter. Factories and an up-to-date +paper." + +Mrs. Quirk had listened in a dazed manner to this conversation. It +delighted her to sit and listen to her son, just as it did on those rare +occasions when her husband talked to her. But she never quite realised +what the topic under discussion was, although she nodded or shook her +head as she believed was necessary to the occasion. + +"Another paper?" cried Kathleen. + +"And why not?" asked Mrs. Quirk. "Denis knows what he is saying and +doing. Why not another paper if Denis wants it? And what colour would it +be, Denis?" + +Denis Quirk laughed heartily at his mother's misapprehension, but he +threw his arm around her and stooped to kiss her. + +"Black and white," he replied; "a newspaper, old lady, up to date and +go-ahead, like the old 'Firebrand.'" Then he turned again to Kathleen. +"You don't know me," he said. "You imagine I am nothing better than a +talker; just wait for three months before you judge me." + +Therewith he swung out of the room. A few minutes later Kathleen saw him +striding rapidly down the avenue on his way towards Grey Town. But she +had other things to do besides thinking of Denis Quirk. No sooner was he +out of sight than she had settled Mrs. Quirk comfortably in an +easy-chair on the balcony, and was reading to the old lady until the +latter fell into a peaceful sleep. + +It was a quiet and monotonous life for a young girl. Mrs. Quirk was now +so dependent upon her that she must have Kathleen always by her side. +This was not due to selfishness on the old lady's part. She did not +understand that young people need a certain amount of amusement and +pleasure to make their lives complete. Kathleen, being wholly unselfish +in her nature, considered it her sole duty to look after the old lady. +Mr. Quirk, too, had made Kathleen his secretary and accountant. When she +was not with Mrs. Quirk, the girl was generally to be found surrounded +by accounts and business letters. + +It was thus that Denis Quirk found her on his return from the town. + +"Do you ever go out?" he asked her, imperatively. + +"Every day," she answered. + +"To theatres and dances?" he asked. + +"I have no time for such frivolities," she answered, laughingly. "I am a +working woman now, with every moment occupied." + +"Pshaw!" he answered, impatiently. "You need readjusting; you all need +readjusting. Life was never intended to be a mere drudgery." + +At tea--the Quirks still clung to the old scheme of meals of the +Collingwood days--as they sat around the large table, he suddenly asked +his father: + +"Why don't you buy a motor, Dad?" + +Samuel Quirk glared at his son for some moments in speechless surprise. +Then he answered: + +"What would I be doing with a motor?" + +"Enjoying the beauties of Australia, and giving the mother a little +pleasure," replied Denis. + +"Pleasure! I would die in a motor," cried Mrs. Quirk. + +"Just as well die there as in a phaeton. If you once ride in a motor, +you will never ride in anything else, unless it's an aeroplane. If the +Dad doesn't buy you a motor, I will." + +"A motor! What would the boys say to see me in a motor?" growled Samuel +Quirk. + +"Confound the boys! If the boys object to a motor, they are fools. +Motors mean the circulation of money. What is the difference between a +motor and a house, a motor and a horse, a motor and a coat? Don't they +all represent money to the working man? Don't bother yourself about the +boys, or the jackasses either!" + +Already there were signs of political differences between father and +son. Samuel Quirk had clung to his Labour political creed all his life; +now, in his time of prosperity, he refused to resign his early +principles. Denis, a Democrat at heart, was something of a freelance, +inclined to tilt indiscriminately at both parties. This, however, was +the first occasion since his homecoming on which he had openly opposed +his father, and Samuel Quirk resented it. + +"I have two legs to travel on, and they are good enough for me," he +growled. + +"Just hear him, and he calls himself a Progressive. It's a Conservative +he is. Where's the use of science, if you refuse to make use of its +gifts?" cried Denis. + +Kathleen recognised that Denis was irritating his father and grieving +his mother, not of intention, but simply because he did not realise that +Samuel Quirk could not tolerate opposition. + +"Well, I have a proposal to make. You shall hire a motor," she +suggested. "Mr. Quirk and Granny shall ride in it, and see how they like +it. Then, perhaps, Mr. Quirk may be induced to buy one." + +"Never!" growled Samuel Quirk. "Them noisy, dusty, smelling inventions +of the----!" + +"Hush!" cried Mrs. Quirk. "The devil never invented anything good." + +"And where's the good of them?" asked her husband. + +"They make a long and hard journey short and pleasant. But Miss O'Connor +is right. You shall try what a motor is like, and if you don't take to +it I will buy one for the mother myself," said Denis. + +It was an exciting moment in the house when he drove up the following +day in a large car. Mrs. Quirk, if very nervous, was anxious to +experience the new sensation of travelling in a motor; Kathleen was +keenly desirous that Denis' plan might succeed; Samuel Quirk feigned +contempt and indifference, but he was in his heart as excited as his +wife. + +"Now, come along, mother, and you, too, Miss O'Connor. Will you try a +short spin, Dad?" said Denis. + +Samuel Quirk strolled over to and eyed the motor even more +contemptuously than before. + +"What's that?" he asked the chauffeur. + +"That's the throttle," replied the latter. + +"Humph! I suppose you can drive the noisy thing?" + +The chauffeur nodded; he was too insulted to reply in words. + +"Can you stop it?" asked the old man. + +"In a few yards," said Denis. "Step inside, Dad, and see for yourself." + +Grumbling and growling, Samuel Quirk followed his wife and Kathleen into +the tonneau. From the front seat Denis directed the driver. + +"Easy at first, until they find their legs; then intoxicate them with +the sensation of flying," he half whispered. + +To Kathleen it was pure joy from the first; but Mrs. Quirk, and, to tell +the truth, Samuel Quirk, were for half an hour very nervous. + +"Can you stop her?" the latter asked as they flew down a steep hill. + +In answer to the question, the chauffeur brought the car to a +standstill. Thus assured, Samuel Quirk became confident, and before +they returned home he was urging the chauffeur to increased speed. + +"Do you call this fast?" he asked; and when the car began to race along +the road a pleased smile lighted up his face. He even waved his hand +pleasantly to those he passed on the road, and when the car stopped in +front of the house the old man asked the chauffeur: + +"How much do you want for it?" + +"You don't think of buying this old car?" cried Denis. "You want a new +one, and right up to date." + +"Would it go as fast as this one?" asked Samuel Quirk. + +"You shall have one out in a few days and try it." + +Only a fortnight later a large twenty-horse-power car and a chauffeur +were added to the equipment of "Layton." Samuel Quirk was the most +enthusiastic admirer of, and the most frequent passenger in, the car. He +was curious as to the machinery and the method of driving. Probably this +was the most satisfactory thing that his wealth had brought him. + +Mrs. Quirk, too, after her first nervousness, found great pleasure in +the motor; but to Kathleen it was the first of a series of new +enjoyments, for Denis Quirk hurried his mother on from one dissipation +to another--concerts, theatres, even dances. Hesitatingly, Mrs. Quirk +accepted his advice to try them; but, having once found pleasure in the +evident enjoyment they gave Kathleen, she willingly went wherever Denis +advised her. In this way the household at "Layton" received the +necessary readjustment, with excellent results to all the inmates. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +"THE OBSERVER" DIES. + + +Dr. Marsh was in his surgery, skimming the contents of a medical journal +in search of the newer methods of treatment. Now and again he glanced +from the printed pages out of his window at the asphalt path leading +from the gate to his front door, not so much because he expected a +patient as from mere habit. It was an off day in Grey Town, and his +surprise was keen when he chanced to see, not one, but three men +approaching the house. + +It had become a custom with him to scan a patient and diagnose a +complaint at long range, and to subsequently confirm or disprove his +first opinion more intimately at closer quarters. Being a shrewd and +observant man, he not infrequently hit a bull's-eye at the first shot. +Scrutinising the three who were coming up the path, he muttered: + +"Cairns, Desmond O'Connor, and the ugliest beggar I ever saw! But which +is the patient? Cairns has dyspepsia, I swear; Desmond could not be sick +if he tried; the ugly beggar suffers from nothing worse than his face, +and that is a chronic condition." + +Commenting half-audibly in this manner, he hastened to the door and +cried: + +"Are you all patients?" + +Cairns shook his head sorrowfully. "No such luck, doctor! Beyond a +little discomfort after meals, we are hopelessly sound." + +"Are you a deputation, then, come to ask me to represent you in the +Federal Parliament?" asked the doctor. + +"It may come to that," said Cairns. "If Burrows does not speedily do +something for Grey Town, we shall need a new member. May I introduce Mr. +Quirk, a new resident and a live citizen?" + +Denis Quirk and the doctor shook hands, each regarding the other +curiously the while. + +"An insurance agent," said the doctor in the half-audible tone he +sometimes adopted. + +To this the others replied with a laugh. + +"No fear, doctor!" cried Cairns. "Am I the man to take a mean advantage +of you? We have come here to consult you--not professionally, but as one +who knows this district, alive and dead." + +"None better," said Dr. Marsh. + +They followed him into a cosy and orderly surgery, and sat down at his +bidding. For his part, the doctor leaned up against the mantelpiece, one +elbow resting on the marble and one arm free. + +"Now, then, what is it?" he asked. + +"We are contemplating a venture," said Denis Quirk--"a newspaper in +opposition to 'The Observer.'" + +Dr. Marsh shook his head emphatically, frowning the while at Denis +Quirk. + +"Mental, decidedly mental," he growled. "You have delusions." + +Denis Quirk laughed uproariously at this remark. The doctor was a man +after his own heart. + +"You don't give it a chance?" he asked. + +"Not a thousand to one hope! What do we want with two papers?" + +"Precisely!" cried Denis Quirk. "But supposing we were to shoulder 'The +Observer' out of Grey Town?" + +"Is Cairns a mutineer?" asked the doctor. + +"I am a cast-off. Old Ebenezer Brown has given me marching orders, and I +am looking for a new master," replied Cairns. + +Dr. Marsh's face brightened, for he had a consuming hatred for the owner +of 'The Observer.' Even the faintest hope of wounding Ebenezer Brown was +a reason for joy to him. + +"It might be done?" he said. "Are you a newspaper man?" he asked Denis +Quirk. + +"In the past, and, I hope, in the future. I am tempted to risk a battle +with 'The Observer.' With Cairns and O'Connor, myself, and one or two +others--yourself, for instance, doctor--we might make the old rag +gallop, possibly even beat it, eh?" + +"Stop a minute. Do any of you drink?" asked the doctor. + +The other men shook their heads. + +"Too early," said Cairns. "If we started now, where would we end?" + +"Very well, then. Let me have some details before I decide. Who is to +finance the paper?" + +"I shall do that, with your help, if you like, leaving the public to pay +us principal and interest when we have destroyed Ebenezer Brown and his +organ," said Denis Quirk. + +"Cairns will be editor, I suppose?" asked the doctor. + +"Cairns editor, O'Connor a reporter, myself manager, and Tim O'Neill +printer's devil." + +"Tim O'Neill!" laughed the doctor. "Where did you discover that +rapscallion? Molly Healy introduced you to him, I swear." + +"I forgot Molly Healy in mentioning the staff. She is to write a series +of articles dealing with the seamy side of Grey Town life and her +methods of reforming the riff-raff. Yes; it was she who brought Tim to +me. 'Here you are!' she cried. 'Tis the wickedest boy in Grey Town. Make +him something useful, and you will be doing a public service to me and +to the town and district.' I engaged him as printer's devil on that +recommendation." + +After half an hour of facts and figures, the doctor dismissed his +visitors. He was satisfied that this was not an impossible scheme, and +he even went so far as to accept a portion of the financial burden. This +argued well for the newspaper, for the doctor was a shrewd man. + +Ebenezer Brown firmly believed in vested interests when those interests +were his own. Until he was actually faced by "The Mercury," he had +regarded opposition to "The Observer" as impossible. When confronted by +the strong staff of Denis Quirk's paper, he at first began to whine over +the treachery of opposition; then he straightened his back to fight. + +Gifford, the sub-editor, had hailed the resignation of Cairns as +promotion to himself; and so it might have proved, but Ebenezer Brown +was far too shrewd to oppose Gifford to Cairns. + +"We must find a new editor," he remarked to the former when the rumour +of opposition reached him. + +Gifford, with a half promise of the editorial chair in his mind, smiled +blandly. + +"You will not forget----," he began. + +"I forget everything," snapped Ebenezer Brown, "when I have to fight. I +am going to Melbourne to find a strong editor. After this opposition is +crushed I intend to sack him and place you in charge," he added more +gently, for he liked Gifford, if he really cared for any man. + +But the fight was not to end so simply and speedily as the old man +imagined. "The Mercury" dawned on Grey Town, strong, cynical, and up to +date. There were initial troubles with the Cable News Agency, but Cairns +managed to adjust these, against the determined opposition of Ebenezer +Brown. Then came splendid days for the advertising public, when both +newspapers brought down their scale of charges to the very lowest price. +Keen, too, was the demand for copy when Desmond O'Connor and his junior +reporter found themselves opposed to men almost as keen as they. Grey +Town fairly throbbed with excitement, and daily searched the rival +papers to discover which one had outwitted the other. In the office of +"The Mercury" Denis Quirk and Cairns sat together planning new features +to place their paper in advance of its rival. Their first success was +the nobbling of "The Observer's" senior reporter. For this Tim O'Neil +was responsible. + +Tim was errand boy, printer's devil, and messenger for "The Mercury," +and he firmly believed that the newspaper's success was due to his +exertions. All the ingenuity of which he was capable, the boy employed +on behalf of his employers. When the State member came to Grey Town to +make his election speech, Tim O'Neill recognised an opportunity. It was +a notorious fact that "The Observer's" new reporter was addicted to +drink, and, after reporting the speech in full, he slipped into the +"Royal Hart" Hotel, as was his custom, for a glass of whisky, his +shorthand report in his pocket. After him, cautiously, went Tim O'Neill, +and abstracted his notes from his pocket, substituting for them a +spurious copy. Where Tim had secured this false shorthand report history +does not relate, but they were cleverly done, so like and yet so unlike +the original as to be ridiculous. It was this report that appeared in +"The Observer" next morning. In his fury the editor discharged the chief +reporter, and when he went out to re-engage him found that Cairns had +been before him. + +"Tim O'Neill, you deserve a sound thrashing," said Denis Quirk when he +heard of the boy's escapade. "But your wages are raised, not as an +incentive to further crimes, but because you have a future before you. +Do you ever study?" + +"Just a little. Miss Molly is teaching me," said Tim. + +"I must arrange with Burnside to give you a few hours every week. You +will be an editor some day, Tim, if you avoid the rocks," said Denis +Quirk. + +That very day Tim came in to Desmond O'Connor, his face the picture of +anxiety. Noting this, Desmond eyed the youth in surprise: then he burst +out in a shout of laughter. + +"What are you doing that for?" asked Tim, furiously. + +"I never saw you so melancholy before, Tim. What particular sin have you +committed? Or have you lost a far-distant cousin? Confess your guilt, +Tim." + +"I suppose you think you're funny?" cried Tim. "I've half a mind to go +and give myself to 'The Observer,' and ruin this blessed old paper." + +Desmond O'Connor's shout of laughter brought Cairns from his room, +anxious to share the joke. + +"Let us have it at once," he cried. "In this strenuous life a joke is +too precious an event to be wasted. Who made it, you or Tim?" + +"Tim is acquiring a high sense of humour," said Desmond. "Tell Mr. +Cairns your awful threat, Tim." + +"Yah!" cried Tim, vindictively, "I'll tell Mr. Cairns what I came to +tell you, and leave you to wish you knew it." + +Therewith he drew the editor into his room, and closed the doors +carefully. + +"They're going to strike, sir, on both papers, for higher wages," he +said in a low voice. + +"Who do you mean, Imp?" asked Cairns, addressing the boy by the name he +had especially devised for him. + +"The compositors. To-night they're going out to stop both papers." + +"Tim O'Neill, you are a perfect mine of information. Providence was +determined to bless 'The Mercury' when it sent us Tim O'Neill. Just run +away now and ask Mr. Quirk if I can see him." + +Denis Quirk was at once a diplomatic and a determined man. On hearing +the newest development, he hurried away to interview the prospective +strikers. + +"Lay your grievances before me," he said. "If I can put them right with +justice to the proprietors of this paper, it shall be done." + +It was the usual story--higher wages and shorter hours, a larger staff, +better paid, with less work to do individually. Denis Quirk offered a +compromise, but this was refused. After half an hour's discussion, he +suddenly broke out into a white heat of anger. + +"Do you fancy I can't do without you?" he cried. + +The men replied with a burst of ironical laughter. + +"I began life as a compositor, and I have not forgotten my trade," he +said. "You can go, every one of you that wants more. But 'The Mercury' +will appear to-morrow, take my tip for that." + +Sullenly the men withdrew, to hang about outside the office, watching to +see who would take their places. But no one came from outside, while in +the printing room all was bustle. + +"Now, throw off your coats," cried Denis Quirk, "every one of you. You +too, Cairns, and do what I tell you. You, Tim O'Neill, take this +telegram to the post office. We will have a new staff to-morrow, and men +I can rely upon." + +In this way "The Mercury" was printed under the greatest difficulties, +but the rival newspaper failed to appear. Ebenezer Brown was stubborn, +and when his editor brought him the news of the threatened strike he +refused to concede anything. + +"Not one penny more, and not one second less, will they get from me. Let +them strike," he growled. + +"But you must come to terms," said the editor. "You can't afford to miss +one issue of 'The Observer.'" + +"I am paying fair wages, and they may fish for a rise," replied Ebenezer +Brown. + +The following day, like its rival, "The Observer" was manned again and +working smoothly, but its prestige was hopelessly impaired. +Thenceforward "The Mercury" advanced daily at the expense of the older +paper, until, six weeks after the beginning of the campaign, Ebenezer +Brown went to Denis Quirk to effect a compromise. + +Denis was sitting in his shirt-sleeves, his collar off and neckband +loosened, when Ebenezer Brown entered. + +"Sit down, Mr. Brown. I will attend to you in five minutes. We are so +confoundedly busy that I must put this through at once." + +Ebenezer Brown mumbled something inarticulate and sat down, watching +the pile of papers on the desk in front of the man he hated. After a few +minutes Denis Quirk swung round on the office stool to face him. + +"Well, sir, what is it?" he asked. "An advertisement or an obituary +notice of 'The Observer?'" + +Ebenezer Brown was rendered speechless with indignation for the moment. + +"I didn't come here to be insulted," he growled. + +"Then why did you come? Haven't you been throwing insults at me from the +columns of your rag these six weeks past? A man doesn't walk into the +lion's den to have his hand licked by the lion." + +"And how have you treated me?" cried Ebenezer Brown. "First you stole my +reporter's copy, then you stole my reporter." + +"Stole, sir!" Denis Quirk rang his bell, and Desmond O'Connor entered. +"Kindly take down this gentleman's words, Desmond. Now, Mr. Brown, +please repeat your statement." + +"You are an unscrupulous person!" growled the old man. + +"You have that down, Desmond? Continue, Mr. Brown," said Denis Quirk. + +"Robber! Forger!" cried the old man, roused to fury. "You have neither +manners nor honesty." + +Therewith he rose and rushed into the street, and the burst of laughter +that he heard as he went did not tend to make him better pleased or +satisfied. + +"Do you intend to prosecute?" asked Desmond O'Connor. + +"Prosecute! No, my lad, I only defend actions for libel. If he had used +every term of reproach in every dictionary, I would not be tempted to a +prosecution. I am highly flattered. It proves that I have succeeded in +making the old man uncomfortable, and satisfies me. Just write a +humorous sketch on the little skirmish, but don't give any names. The +town will understand who is the principal character if you manage your +article dexterously and with humour. Bring it to me to touch up when the +sketch is completed." + +For two weeks longer "The Observer" struggled on; then Ebenezer Brown +sent an intermediary, in the person of a lawyer, to make terms. + +"There is only one possible arrangement--"The Observer" goes out," said +Quirk. "How much does Ebenezer Brown ask?" + +"His proposal is to buy 'The Mercury,'" replied the messenger. + +"Hopeless! I have started 'The Mercury' as a financial investment and +something more. It is to be a literary battery to galvanise Grey Town +into energy. I really don't care a hang for 'The Observer.' That organ +is dying rapidly; in a few weeks it will be dead. But I am prepared to +pay for a more speedy ending to a useless life," replied Denis Quirk. + +"How would a limited proprietary suit you?" asked the lawyer. + +"With Ebenezer as a shareholder? Impossible! 'The Mercury' intends to +shoot at old Eb. and his sort. These are the men who are holding back +the wheels of progress. He is a landlord who keeps his premises in a +shocking state, charges big rents, refuses to make repairs, refuses to +build, opposes reasonable rates, and holds one half of the council under +his domination. Ebenezer Brown represents stagnation and corruption, the +last things I intend to countenance." + +"Shall I tell him your objection?" laughed the lawyer. + +"If it will encourage him to prosecute for libel, I say yes; but you may +use your own discretion. Tell him I will buy 'The Observer' right out +for a sum to be settled by arbitration--buy it out or destroy it." + +Thus did it come to pass that "The Observer" disappeared into oblivion, +and in its place came that fiery paper, "The Mercury," respecter of +neither person nor position. + +It was "The Mercury" that first breathed on the smouldering ashes of +municipal discontent, and roused the ratepayers of Grey Town to organise +for protection and advancement. Thus was accomplished the first act in a +drama, and thus was fought the initial battle of a long and fierce +campaign. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +JOHN GERARD. + + +Cairns and Denis Quirk were working post haste in "The Mercury" office. +"We must make 'The Mercury' a go-ahead, up-to-date paper," said Cairns. + +"That's it, my man," replied Denis Quirk. + +"We want to consider our readers' amusements," said Cairns. + +"Tickle them, and make them laugh, and they will put their arms round +the old 'Mercury's' neck and love her," cried Denis. + +"Racing is the first and most important amusement in Australia. You need +a sporting editor." + +"Good old Cairns! With you and Tim O'Neill I have the finest stuff in +Victoria. A sporting editor you shall have, sonny. What about Desmond +O'Connor?" + +Cairns shook his head doubtfully. + +"Couldn't stand it," he answered. "He's too fond of Dame Chance already, +and inclined to be one of the good-natured 'have-a-drink-with-me' crowd. +Desmond needs watching." + +"I'll tell you what he wants--to get right away from here, and fight the +world alone," said Denis. + +"You and I," cried Cairns, "are the men to found a new party with a new +Australian policy. Mere parochialism must go, sir, if Australia is to +have a destiny. I have my eye upon Desmond as a disciple." + +"Don't hurry, Cairns. Reform Grey Town first, then turn your mind to +Australia. There is plenty to be done here. Have you prepared that +article on the municipal omissions?" + +Cairns handed a proof to Denis Quirk, and the latter ran his eye over +it. + +"Good!" he cried, approvingly. "Slash it into them! 'Too much of a hole +and corner system.' 'Too many surprises sprung upon a too-confiding +public.' That's the way to make things hum. I must give Wilde a retainer +to defend us in our libel actions. I see them coming, Cairns. To-morrow +rake it into Ebenezer Brown for the state of his premises in Chester +Street; on Saturday draw attention to the insanitary condition of the +best residential part of the town. Keep things moving, and we will make +Grey Town a live community. Then we will turn our attention to +Australia." + +Now, the first sporting editor of "The Mercury" was a handsome man, +clean-shaven and well-dressed, who presented himself to Denis Quirk in +answer to an advertisement in a Melbourne paper. + +"Mr. James Gerard," read Cairns from the card that Tim O'Neill handed to +him that morning. "Have you any idea who Mr. Gerard is?" + +"He says he's 'Trafalgar,' sir; not the battle, sir, but the horse. I +fancy he's dotty, Mr. Cairns; he looks more like a donkey than a horse." + +"Show him in to Mr. Quirk; I have no time for lunatics," said Cairns. + +Mr. James Gerard was accordingly shown into the managers' room. Denis +Quirk was at the moment preparing a speech, for he had already decided +to contest a vacancy on the council. He received his visitor abruptly. + +"What do you want?" he asked. + +"I am 'Trafalgar;' perhaps you have heard of me," said the newcomer. + +"Never!" replied Denis. + +"Hem! I thought you might have seen my nom de plume in the 'Sporting +Chronicle.'" + +"Never heard of it. What do you want?" + +"You advertised for a sporting editor. I have come after the place." + +"Do you know anything about horses?" asked Denis. + +"No one better; I have studied them all my life," replied Gerard. + +"That doesn't say you can write about them. How much do you ask?" + +"Salary is no object to me. Racing is my hobby. I have an income of my +own, and I write as an employment and a pleasure." + +"If you come to me you will have to accept a salary, much as it may pain +you. You will be a servant, and do exactly as I ask. Are you prepared +for that?" said the manager. + +"Naturally! Why would I be here if I were not prepared for that?" + +"Very well, then. You will begin at £4 a week, to be increased if you +suit us; if you don't suit, out you go. When are you prepared to begin?" + +"To-day, if you like." + +"To-morrow you can go to Melton and report the meeting. See that you are +spicy; we expect spice on this paper." + +"Trafalgar's" first report did not satisfy the manager. + +"See here, Mr. Gerard," he said, entering the outer office, where +"Trafalgar" was already fraternising with Desmond O'Connor, "'The +Mercury' is out to put down fraud and hypocrisy wherever it is to be +found. I sent you to Melton to draw public attention to irregularities. +Why did Caprice run last in the Melton Cup?" + +"Not quite fit," replied the sporting editor glibly. "I was talking to +Carter----." + +"Talking to her trainer and asking his opinion! That's not what we want +here. Last week Caprice started at 6 to 4 on and won the Welter Handicap +at Balnogan; yesterday she was quoted at 5 to 1, and ran last in the +Melton Cup. Sit down and mention those two facts together, leaving the +readers to draw their own deductions, as I do." + +"Are you looking for libel actions?" asked "Trafalgar," innocently. + +"Not looking for them, but quite prepared for them in a just cause. Did +you read my speech last night?" + +"I have not found time," stammered the sporting editor, while Desmond +O'Connor sat listening with a broad smile on his face. + +"Oblige me by reading it. It represents my policy, and the policy of +this paper. We call a spade a spade on 'The Mercury.' Just read that +speech, and then sit down and write about Caprice. You can mention the +running of Bailiff in the Hurdles at the same time. If the stewards +won't do their duty, 'The Mercury' will point it out to them." + +In this manner was Gerard introduced to the policy of Denis Quirk and +his paper. He was, however, a smart man, quite capable of grasping a +situation when it was demonstrated to him. In a few weeks' time the +clever division began to read the accounts of their acts of brigandage +with fear and trembling; obsequious stewards became more alert, and less +timid in dealing with glaring acts of fraud, while threats were openly +indulged in, and actions for libel suggested. But Denis Quirk and his +paper went on their prescribed course, regardless of threats, and +awaiting libel actions that failed to come. + +There was no lack of excitement in Grey Town in those days. Men did not +go about wearily, and sigh because there was nothing in the papers. +There were times of stress and battle in the town when Denis Quirk and +"The Mercury" fought with sloth, indifference, and vested interests; +times when he was rarely at home with the old people, because he had +many and important things to do, to say, and to write about in the town. + +But Gerard dropped quietly into a position of family friend and +confidential adviser at "Layton." He was introduced by Denis Quirk, and, +being a man of comparative leisure, it became his habit to spend a part +of his leisure at the house, and to accompany Mrs. Quirk and Kathleen +O'Connor when they went out to find amusement. To this Denis Quirk +readily assented, for he was more at ease among the men and women who +worked than among those who played. Desmond O'Connor, too, was +shouldering the burden of stern responsibility, and someone had to look +after Mrs. Quirk and Kathleen. Who could better do this than Gerard, a +harmless and pleasant man in Denis Quirk's eyes? + +This was the first male friendship of Kathleen O'Connor. Here was a man +who told her the history of his lifetime, not discursively, but in +fragments dropped here and there. There is pleasure, entertainment, and +pathos in every man's life, no matter who he may be. Gerard had lived +more adventurously than many others. He was a man who could make love +charmingly, one who had been liberally educated. There were many +pleasing reminiscences, many sad incidents in his past, and he had a +happy method of speaking of such events. + +This is the manner in which love sometimes comes to man and woman, not, +as it is often pictured, as a sudden passion, but slowly and in stages. +Gerard loved easily and lightly; he had already had his grand passions, +and the current of his life ran none the less pleasantly because of +them. To make love to a pretty girl was nothing to him, merely another +passing incident. But a man was an event to Kathleen O'Connor, an +admirer something hitherto unknown. She had laughed and flirted with +boyish admirers, as girls do; but such events are mere ripples on the +surface of passion. The love and admiration of a man are to such things +a vast upheaval of the depths of the ocean. + +There was at this time one person who cordially disliked Gerard, +probably the only one in Grey Town. This was Molly Healy, and she had +great difficulty to find a reason for her antipathy to the sporting +editor of "The Mercury." After her first meeting with Gerard, she +expressed her sentiments to Kathleen O'Connor unreservedly, as was her +way. + +"I couldn't bear to have that man near me," she said. + +Kathleen was, in those days, perfectly unbiassed in her opinion of +Gerard. He was to her merely a new acquaintance, but she found him +pleasant and well-informed. Laughingly, she asked: + +"Why not?" + +"He is too spick and span for me," said Molly, "and altogether too +smiling. He has got no soul." + +These sentiments she cherished doggedly, and expressed on every +occasion, to his face and behind his back. As the romance began to take +possession of Kathleen, she found it hard not to resent Molly's +criticism. Mrs. Quirk went so far as to scold Molly relentlessly for her +expressions of dislike, but the girl only laughed at her: + +"Sure, you are too young and innocent. You don't know the wickedness +there is in the world. But I have been taking lessons from every +guttersnipe and old good-for-nought in the town. There's wickedness in +Gerard's eye, and in his nose too." + +Desmond O'Connor was a particular friend of his brother scribe, but the +acquaintance was not for the boy's good. Gerard taught him to drink more +than he should, and to gamble for money that he could not afford to +lose. While these facts were unknown in the semi-retirement of "Layton," +they speedily came to Molly Healy's ears. She acted with a customary +impulse that was imprudent with such a nature as Desmond O'Connor's. One +morning on his way to "The Mercury" office he was stopped by Molly. + +"Desmond," she said, "what is this I am hearing of you?" + +Desmond met her laughingly, for he seldom took Molly Healy seriously. + +"Something wonderful?" he said. + +"Something you should be ashamed of! Look there at old Mason." + +She pointed to where an old man was crossing the road, a dilapidated +wreck of humanity, for Mason was the champion drunkard of Grey Town. + +"It is such an old man as that you will become," said Molly. + +Desmond flushed crimson at her words, and he turned in repressed fury on +her. + +"Mind your own business," he said. "Reform your old age pensioners, and +kindly allow me to look after myself." + +Therewith he went on his way, leaving her to look after him with tears +in her eyes. + +"Wouldn't I give my life for Desmond!" she thought, as she watched him +until he turned a corner. For his part, indignation overcame every other +feeling. He was sufficiently young to resent interference, and to forget +for the moment the bonds of friendship that bound him to Molly Healy. + +Turning to climb upwards to the Presbytery, the girl met Denis Quirk. +Like Kathleen O'Connor, Molly Healy was not quite sure how she regarded +the manager of "The Mercury." He was always brusque and unapproachable, +yet she infinitely preferred his attitude to the polish of Gerard. + +"Looking at Desmond?" he laughed. + +"And why not? Isn't it a pleasure to look at a handsome man?" she +answered. + +"I hope you gave him a good talking to. My mother says that Molly Healy +is the one that can do that," he said. + +"Wait until you are standing for Parliament, and then you will see what +Molly Healy can do," she replied. "But you should look after that boy, +or he will get into mischief so deep that there will be no getting him +out." + +"I have an eye on him, never fear," he said, and left her abruptly, to +her infinite amusement. + +"Denis Quirk has no manners, but he doesn't mean any harm," she told her +brother. "It is only his way; a hard crust, but a good wholesome crumb." + +That very morning Denis Quirk summoned Desmond into his room. + +"See here," he said, "we are not teetotal on this paper, but we know +where to stop. It's time you stopped. Make a note of that." + +"Perhaps I had better go," cried Desmond in a passion. + +"I don't actually say that, for there's good stuff in you, but if you +can't behave, you can't go too soon," said Denis. + +Cairns was standing near the door, and he heard these exchanges. He had +a very kindly feeling for Desmond, and when the reporter came from Denis +Quirk's room Cairns drew him into his own. + +"Quirk is blunt, but he is true," he said. "He sees that you are going +the way of many another real good fellow, and he wants to pull you up +short. Don't ruin a promising life, Desmond. Give Gerard a wide berth; +he's a bad companion for a man like you." + +"Gerard is a good fellow. What have you against him?" cried Desmond. + +"He is altogether too good a fellow for a penniless reporter that has a +place to win in the world," said Cairns. + +"He is the only white man in Grey Town!" said Desmond. + +Remonstrance was thrown away on the boy. One night he staggered into the +office in a half-drunken condition, and the following day he disappeared +into the dark oblivion that we term "the world," taking with him a +letter of recommendation from Cairns to the editor of a metropolitan +paper. + +"I recommend you for your talent, not for your bad habits. See that you +cure them, or Smythe will shoot you out as Quirk has done," said Cairns. + +But he gave the boy five pounds to help him while he was looking for +work. + +Desmond O'Connor was the first victim to the friendship of John Gerard. +There were other young men who owed their downfall to him, not that he +bore any one of his victims malice; he was merely a man with a full +purse, and a lover of good-fellowship. "Let the young beggars look after +themselves. All that I ask is good company. It is not my place to teach +men morals," he said to one who remonstrated with him. + +In the same spirit he continued to court Kathleen O'Connor, enjoying +placidly the game of love, and perfectly regardless as to the result. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +DAYS OF STORM AND STRESS. + + +It was during breakfast at "Layton" that Kathleen O'Connor attacked +Denis Quirk on the subject of his treatment of Desmond. Mrs. Quirk was +breakfasting in bed; her husband had scrambled through his meal, and +rushed out to superintend the making of a drain, leaving Denis alone +with the girl. He had noticed her silence and aloofness, sure signs of +displeasure, and, as was his way, he calmly faced her in the moment of +bitter resentment. + +"You are angry with me?" he asked abruptly. + +"Why should I be? I have no claims upon your kindness," she answered. + +"He had to go, for his own sake," he said, going straight to the point +without explanation. "It was the only hope of saving him." + +She did not answer, but her eyes filled with tears, vainly though she +tried to repress them. Denis Quirk feigned not to see them. + +"In Grey Town he must be ruined," he said, not unkindly. + +"And what will he do alone in a great city, with no one to advise him?" +she cried. + +"Fight it out and win, if he is made of the stuff I believe to be in +him. He had enemies here who were ruining him, body and soul." + +"He had one friend at least in Mr. Gerard," she said. + +"We had better not discuss Gerard," he replied, rising quietly. + +"Mr. Gerard has told me----," she began. + +"Never believe a hostile witness until he has safely stood the fire of +cross-examination," he remarked, oracularly. + +"Oh, it was cruel not to give the boy just one chance!" she cried. "My +heart is breaking for him!" + +Therewith she rose and left the room. Denis took out his pipe and filled +it. Then he went to "The Mercury" office, smoking thoughtfully. The +first person to meet him on his arrival was John Gerard. + +"What do you want with me?" asked Denis Quirk, abruptly. + +"Just to hand in my resignation. I have other schemes on hand, and +cannot find the necessary time to your work," replied Gerard. + +Denis Quirk noted the absence of the customary suavity and deference in +the way in which Gerard addressed him. + +"Right you are! Come to me in five minutes for your cheque. You have +saved yourself dismissal," he said. + +"Are you dismissing the whole staff?" asked Gerard. + +"Only the useless ones," replied Denis quietly, as he entered the room. + +"Your cheque--and the door, you durned skunk!" he said, five minutes +later. Gerard was on the point of retorting furiously, but one look at +the strong, ugly face and sturdy figure convinced him of the wisdom of +silence until he was actually on the doorstep of the office. Then he +said: + +"You will have to deal with me yet, Mr. Denis Quirk." + +"I am quite capable of doing that," replied Denis, smilingly. + +Thus did "The Mercury" lose its first sporting editor. + +In the quiet of his office Denis Quirk sat for fully five minutes +thinking, a most unusual thing for him to do, and, more unusual still, +thinking of a woman. He checked himself abruptly with the half-muttered +words: + +"Well, she must battle through alone: I can't help her." + +Then he began to write a letter to a friend in Melbourne: + + + "'The Mercury,' Grey Town. + + "January 17, 19--. + + "Dear Jackson,--There is a young fellow now in Melbourne, one + Desmond O'Connor, a wild, harum-scarum, but of good stuff. You will + find him at Mrs. Tippett's, 102 The Grove, Upper Hawthorn. Look him + up, if you still love me, and take him under your care. Find him a + place in your office; he has the necessary qualifications. He is a + journalist, but I foresee ruin in that line for Desmond. Supply his + immediate needs, and draw upon me, but invent some pious fiction to + account for the capital--a dead maiden aunt or any other apocryphal + person you like. If he thinks that the money comes from me, ten to + one he will have none of it. Make him keep himself as far as + possible by his own brains, and never offer the boy whisky. If you + do this for me, I shall recognise that you are the same good old + Jackson, whom I am proud to call a friend.--Yours sincerely, + + "DENIS QUIRK." + + +As he closed the note and handed it to Tim O'Neill, Molly Healy entered +the office. Like Kathleen O'Connor, she resented Denis Quirk's treatment +of Desmond, and she had come to express her sentiments openly. + +"Are you busy?" she asked. + +"Not more so than usual; a pile of advertisements and correspondence, a +few proofs to glance at, and a council committee at ten. I can spare you +five minutes," he answered. + +"I have not come to talk gently to you," said Molly. "I think you should +be ashamed of yourself for your treatment of Desmond O'Connor." + +"Now, Miss Molly, have you considered this question carefully? Just sit +down for five minutes, and hear me explain it to you." + +Molly Healy took a chair reluctantly, her face expressing a +determination not to be convinced. + +"Desmond O'Connor," he said, and all the while he was stamping and +closing envelopes, "came under the influence of a man----." + +"Gerard!" she cried, interrupting him. + +"John Gerard. If he had remained here that influence must have ruined +him." + +"And could you not separate the two?" she asked. + +"Not I, nor you; not even Father Healy. Desmond was gambling, he was +beginning to drink; he would have degenerated into an habitual +drunkard----." + +"I as much as told him that myself," said Molly Healy. + +"Outside there," he pointed to the window towards the east, "in +Melbourne, lies the boy's chance. It was not for my sake I sent him +packing. That boy was useful to me, and I can never replace him; but +better 'The Mercury' should suffer than he and Kathleen O'Connor." + +"Well, you're not a bad sort of man," she remarked. "Your heart's better +than your face." + +Denis Quirk laughed heartily at her remark. + +"You don't like my face?" he remarked. "Haven't I been called the +ugliest man in Grey Town? And proud I am of it." + +"Good-day!" cried Molly Healy. "I will not ruin your paper, after all, +as I had intended doing. But my heart is sore for poor Desmond--out +there." + +She, in turn, pointed towards the east before she left the office. + +This day was spent by Denis Quirk in fighting. In the council committee +he came into conflict with the man whom he regarded as the greatest +opponent to the progress of Grey Town. This was Councillor Garnett, and +he was not above the suspicion that he made use of his privileges to +further his own ends. Apart from this, he was at once narrow-minded and +obstinate. For such men as he Denis Quirk had no mercy. + +The council of Grey Town was not unlike other municipal councils--its +members honest for the greater part, but many of them men who followed +old traditions, and believed that quiet things should not be moved. For +many years they had lived under a system of accepting the imperfect, and +never attempting to make it more perfect. Of these easy-going, +self-satisfied gentlemen Councillor Garnett was the chief. + +This special meeting of the council had been summoned to consider the +condition of the roads in the town. Year after year the council had +spent less money on the roads than they deserved, and year after year +the roads had degenerated. At this time they were deplorable, and Denis +Quirk had compelled his fellow-councillors to take action. After a drive +around the town, they met to discuss ways and means, and then occurred a +scene that was the first skirmish in a fierce campaign. + +At this time Denis Quirk stood practically alone. Opposed to him was a +body of resolute Conservatives; between the two factions, a few who +hesitated, favouring Denis Quirk rather than Councillor Garnett. The +debate began gently, but it ended in such a storm as the municipal +council chamber had never witnessed before. + +The mayor, a kindly man, was at his wits' end to keep the peace. Again +and again he called the two parties to order, until finally the meeting +broke up, Denis Quirk having been defeated. + +But he was the last man to accept defeat. From the municipal chambers he +hurried round the town to convene an indignation meeting for the +following week. Meanwhile he laid his case before the public in the +columns of "The Mercury." This accomplished, he turned home to "Layton." + +Councillor Garnett was hand in glove with Ebenezer Brown, and the latter +was, above all things, a good hater. He had little cause to love Denis +Quirk, and he possessed not a little power in the town, gained by +illicit means. In those days there were factions in Grey Town, as there +always will be where progress confronts stagnation. The skirmishes and +battles were fought over mere trifles, but they were fought none the +less bitterly for that reason. Day after day Denis Quirk found himself +defeated; yet day after day he gained strength, a member here and there +from the doubtful councillors, and public approbation abroad. + +But at home in "Layton" he was not happy, for he recognised relentless +hostility on the part of Kathleen O'Connor, and he realised that John +Gerard was too intimate with the girl. It was not for him to remonstrate +with her. He had no right to speak, no reasons to advance against +Gerard, beyond an unreasoning antipathy. In his heart of hearts he +believed that Gerard, now an agent in the town, was a worthless fellow, +but such unproven beliefs are useless. He could only look on hopelessly, +and trust that time would put things straight. + +Desmond O'Connor paid a flying visit to "Layton" in the summer. He came +quite unexpectedly, and surprised Kathleen one afternoon when she was +reading to Mrs. Quirk out in the garden. Molly Healy was there, too, +cutting flowers for the church, returning every now and again to +interrupt the reading. + +Desmond O'Connor came walking up the avenue, lined by trees and shrubs, +and paused to look at the group on the green lawn under the shade of a +large elm tree. He looked fresh and bright in his face, although it had +lost some of the tan associated with country life. His eye was clear, +and his step free; there was the dignity of self-respect in the way in +which he carried himself. + +Molly Healy was the first to see him. Shading her eyes with her hand to +avoid the glare of the sun, she took one look at him. Then she dropped +her basket of flowers, and hurried towards him, crying: + +"It is Desmond himself!" + +Kathleen sprang up and dropped her book. The two girls hastened to meet +him. + +"Take him away to your room, Kathleen," said Mrs. Quirk, when she had +welcomed Desmond. "I can look after myself, and you have much to talk +about." + +"Let me look after you, Granny," cried Molly Healy; but she cast a +regretful eye at Kathleen and Desmond. + +"No, Molly; you can come with us and hear what he has to say for +himself," said Kathleen. + +"May I, then? But I would only be in the way," suggested Molly. + +"Not one bit, Molly. Come and listen to my wonderful tale of +adventure--a story of robbers slain, wild animals subdued, good fairies +and witches," said Desmond. + +"I hope you are minding your soul. It is a dangerous place for young +men, is Melbourne," said Mrs. Quirk. + +"Oh, that's all right," replied Desmond, airily. "I am not on the side +of the saints or the sinners." + +Molly Healy noted this reply, but she abstained from commenting on it. +She was shrewd enough to recognise that the man who boasts of +lukewarmness is generally something less than tepid. + +"You will be coming to see the Father?" she suggested. + +"You must make my excuses, Molly. I am here to-day and back in Melbourne +to-morrow. I have fallen on my feet. Where do you think I am working?" +he asked Kathleen as they walked towards the house. + +"On a paper," she suggested. + +"No; in an advertising agency, the biggest in Melbourne, drawing posters +for them, and helping in the business. I shall be a partner before long. +Jackson, the boss, has been a good friend to me, and Mrs. Jackson might +be a mother, and Sylvia--a sister." + +The hesitation that preceded the latter part of this speech was not +lost upon Molly Healy. It caused her a spasm of pain that was sharp, if +it was only short-lived, for she was a girl, if a sensible and healthy +one, and she always had greatly admired Desmond O'Connor. + +In the dining-room they sat down close together. + +"I am glad you have such good friends? How did you find them?" asked +Kathleen. + +"I can't for the life of me discover that. Jackson came to see me and +offered to help me. I rather fancy Gerard must have sent him." + +"Gerard!" cried Molly Healy, scornfully. "Do you fancy he would take so +much trouble? It is 'out of sight as good as buried' with Gerard." + +Kathleen O'Connor flushed up at these words, but refrained from reply. +Desmond answered banteringly: + +"You will hate to the end, Molly?" + +"Sure, my hates are as enduring as my loves," said Molly. "You can +always know how you will find Molly Healy." + +"I don't think you are quite fair to Gerard," said Desmond. + +"Now, tell us about--Sylvia Jackson, Desmond," said Kathleen, anxious to +terminate the discussion. + +"Sylvia Jackson," he answered, with an assumed carelessness, that was in +itself suspicious to the critical ears of Molly Healy. "Why are you so +anxious to hear about her?" + +"Is she pretty?" asked Kathleen. + +Molly Healy watched him curiously, and noted a certain embarrassment in +his face. + +"That is a question of taste. Some people consider her pretty," he +answered. + +"And why not say that Desmond O'Connor is one of those people? Of course +she is pretty, Kathleen, and charming and kind to Desmond. Didn't he say +so? Are you kind to her, Desmond?" cried Molly. + +"Kind to her?" he replied, with a species of horror in his voice, as if +one of his most sacred convictions had been criticised. "One cannot be +kind to a girl like Sylvia Jackson." + +"And why not kind?" asked Molly. + +"I admire and respect--in fact, I almost reverence--her. She is so"--he +paused for a suitable word--"so ethereal. She is more like a spirit than +a piece of common human nature." + +Molly Healy was with great difficulty attempting to restrain a giggle. +She recognised that to give her amusement full play would be to +grievously annoy him. For this reason she turned to look out of the +window, thrusting her handkerchief into her mouth the while. + +"Does she play?" asked Kathleen. + +"She plays and sings divinely. She does everything well. To dance with +her--is----." + +He ended abruptly, not being capable of giving full expression to his +sensations when dancing with Sylvia Jackson. + +"Denis Quirk!" cried Molly Healy, and climbed through the window. It +was a relief to her to give her mirth full vent. + +"Ethereal! Poor Desmond! I wonder will he recover?" she laughed. + +"You will not be rude to him?" Kathleen asked her brother anxiously. + +He laughed unrestrainedly. All resentment against Denis Quirk was long +forgotten, for his anger was short-lived. + +"I regard him as a benefactor. He has released me from the thraldom of +Grey Town and introduced me to the larger life," he answered. + +"Whatever you do, don't speak to him of Sylvia, or I shall laugh," cried +Molly on meeting Denis Quirk. + +"You are speaking Dutch puzzles, Miss Molly. Who and what are he and +Sylvia?" he answered. + +"Desmond O'Connor is him, and Sylvia a spirit, just a woman that's +ethereal and a spirit. I am thinking poor Desmond is love sick." + +Desmond followed Molly through the window, and came with outstretched +hand to meet his former chief. Kathleen O'Connor, watching from the +window, admired her brother's magnanimity. She would herself have unbent +to Denis long ago had it not been for Gerard's influence, and for the +dread lest her brother should be lost in the darkness of the great city +life. + +Denis took the proffered hand and wrung it cordially. One glance at the +open face convinced him that his plan had proved successful; the drink +fiend had been exorcised. + +"And how is Melbourne treating you?" he asked. + +"Better than I deserve. I have found good work and good friends," +replied Desmond. + +"I knew you would come out all right, lad," said Denis, kindly. "What is +your work--papers or politics?" + +"Nothing so grand; just advertising." + +"Then you are at the very top, for advertising is the great power these +times. You will make and unmake kings and emperors of commerce." + +Kathleen O'Connor was that evening kinder and more gracious to Denis +Quirk than she had been since Desmond had gone away. Mrs. Quirk, who had +noted their estrangement with wondering sorrow, smiled placidly as she +heard them laughing, while Molly Healy and Desmond exchanged jests +together. + +"You are not cross with Denis now, Honey?" she asked the girl after the +two men had left the house--Denis for his office, and Desmond for the +hotel. "He is good at heart, if sometimes quick in his temper." + +Molly Healy, who was preparing to drive home in Father Healy's jinker, +cried out: + +"Denis is a great man! His heart is as big as your own, Granny!" + +Kathleen kissed the old lady as she answered: + +"I could not long be cross with anyone whom you loved." + +"God reward you, Honey, for your kindness to an old woman," said Mrs. +Quirk, lovingly. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +RUMOUR, HYDRA-HEADED. + + +Ebenezer Brown lived a lonely life in an old house on the outskirts of +the town, the large garden surrounded by a high stone wall. There was +always a feeling of gloom about the house, no sound of voices, for +Ebenezer Brown was a bachelor, with no relations to care for him, and +only one elderly female to provide for his comfort. A venturesome +relation had on one occasion taken advantage of the old man's sickness +to attempt to secure a footing in his house; but no sooner was the old +man out of his bed than the relative was to be seen driving to the +station with her luggage. Warned by her fate, no other relation, male or +female, dared to enter the house. + +It was seldom that lights were seen to gleam from the windows of the +house. Still more uncommon was it to find visitors assembled there. The +old man had a place of business in the town, and anyone wishing to see +him might find him there. He discouraged visitors, for visitors +suggested hospitality, and hospitality represented the expenditure of +money, the one and only thing that the old man valued. + +Lights were, however, twinkling from Ebenezer Brown's dining room out +into the night a few evenings subsequently to Desmond O'Connor's visit +to Grey Town. A meagre attempt at hospitality had been made for the +visitors, a scanty supply of water biscuits, a few apples of an antique +appearance, with a bottle of limejuice and water. But not one of the +guests was sufficiently hungry or thirsty to taste of the good things +provided for them. + +They sat around the large, bare table, Ebenezer Brown and his three +guests, Garnett, Gifford and Gerard--the three G's, as Denis Quirk had +nicknamed them. Ebenezer Brown half leaned on the table, his face +peculiarly white and eyes very bright in the light of an incandescent +gas burner. + +"Every man has a past, if you can unearth it. The greater the saint, the +worse his past. Eh, Garnett?" he asked. + +It was noticeable that Garnett refrained from any direct answer; +possibly even he had had a past. + +"That play," continued Ebenezer. "What did you call it?" he asked +Gerard. + +"Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." + +Ebenezer Brown's hearing was exceptionally acute to-night. + +"That's the one!" he cried; "and it's true to nature. There's good in a +few and bad in all. Eh, Gifford?" + +"Unhappily there is," sighed Gifford. + +"This man, Quirk," cried the old man, vindictively, "has a past, if we +can discover it. We must rid ourselves of him; he's a public nuisance, a +dangerous, meddlesome fellow. Always poking his nose into something; +always making things unpleasant. Quirk must go!" + +"Quirk," said Garnett, in the slow and sententious manner he adopted, +"is a radical and a demagogue, a positive scourge to the town. As you +say, Quirk must go!" + +Ebenezer Brown turned to Gerard this time and asked him: + +"Are you prepared to make the necessary enquiries for us?" + +"Certainly, if you are prepared to pay the necessary expenses," replied +Gerard, carelessly. + +Ebenezer Brown winced at this, but his hatred of Denis Quirk was an +absorbing passion now. + +"Garnett and I will share the expenses." + +Garnett protested feebly, but the old man overbore him triumphantly. + +"Garnett and I will pay," he said. + +"Let me have it in writing," said Gerard, producing a typewritten paper +from his pocket. + +Ebenezer Brown read it through carefully; then, after one or two +protests as to the amount, he prepared to sign it, but he paused, +saying: + +"No evidence; no pay?" + +Gerard looked the old man full in the face, and answered: + +"You can add that. I promise you full and convincing evidence." + +The deed was signed and witnessed to by Gifford and the old housekeeper, +aroused from her sleep for the purpose. A few minutes later the three +G's were leaving the house. As they emerged from the gate the bright +head lights of a motor picked them out distinctly, before the car swept +by, leaving a blacker darkness behind it. + +"Did you see those three, Cairns?" asked Denis Quirk, who was racing +towards "The Mercury" office in company with his editor. "There's +mischief on foot when you see insects like those together." + +"Ebenezer Brown has been having a card party," laughed Cairns. "Cards +and wine." + +"And light talk? It's a pity there is no law for the destruction of +vermin of the human sort!" + +"Did you see who was in the car?" Garnett asked Gerard. + +"I think it was Quirk himself and Cairns," replied Gerard. "Probably +they have been writing an article about you; something hot and strong. +Quirk knows where to strike, and he hits hard." + +Garnett's comment was hurled into the surrounding darkness; but his +companions heard it and laughed. + +"I expect to return in six months' time," said Gerard; "possibly sooner. +Another six weeks later, and 'The Mercury' will probably need a new +proprietor. Why not buy it yourself and make me the editor, with Gifford +under me? You might do worse." + +Outside the first hotel he suggested a drink. Gifford refused to enter +the bar, and went on towards his home; the others walked into the +private bar and called for whisky and soda. + +"Did you ever see such a miser as Ebenezer Brown?" Gerard asked. "Dry +biscuits, dry apples, and that sour stuff! It makes me sick to see a +man like him, with all his money. He won't enjoy it here--nor hereafter, +if there is a hereafter," he added. + +Garnett, a strict Calvinist, winced at the remark, but passed it over. +Gerard was too useful a man to quarrel with. + +And so these two worthies walked home, laughing together, while Denis +Quirk and Cairns were preparing fresh powder and shot for the campaign +against reaction. When Councillor Garnett read the leading article in +"The Mercury" on "Ways and Means," after the first irritation he smiled +grimly. + +"This can't go on for ever. We shall wear them out," he remarked to his +wife. + +There was yet another question in the town, about which the feeling ran +high and bitterly. The council was desirous of building a more imposing +town hall, and the land they desired belonged to Ebenezer Brown. +Naturally, he asked twice the just value for it, and, as was now the +commonly accepted course of events, Councillor Garnett supported him. +Denis Quirk and the councillors, who now followed him, set resolutely to +work to prevent this spoliation. Had Denis not been there, the public +would have grumblingly accepted the purchase of the land. As it was, he +roused them to such a pitch of resentment that the price was slowly +reduced until it finally remained at one and a quarter times the +rightful value of the block. At this price the council purchased it. + +During the conflict party feeling ran high, and personalities were +indulged in. It was at this time that the scandal was first whispered. + +Who originated it, no one knew, but it flew from mouth to mouth, and it +was not the less grim for the constant repetition. Denis Quirk had a +past--an evil past--so evil indeed that his wife had divorced him in the +States. At this time the story had no substance; it was merely an ugly +rumour. Strange to say, it did not reach Denis Quirk's ears, because his +enemies repeated it among themselves, while his friends refused to +insult him by mentioning the story. + +Father Healy, on hearing it, lost for once his accustomed kindliness. + +"Would you be bringing such tales to me, a priest?" he asked. "Denis +Quirk is a man who goes to his duties; not by any means a saint, but a +good, honest Catholic. Tell the next man or woman who speaks about it +that scandal and detraction are steps in the ladder down to the devil's +kingdom. There are more souls lost that way than you can count." + +The narrator, a well-meaning gossip, left the presbytery in +consternation, and forbore from further repetition of what was to her a +"bonne bouche." But not even Father Healy could keep the tale from +growing in magnitude and increased offensiveness. + +The story came to Kathleen O'Connor's ears, and, curiously enough, she +strongly discredited it. Not that she cared for Denis Quirk, but she had +a strong sense of justice and of probability. She could not believe that +Denis Quirk, whom she regarded as an honourable man, could be guilty of +that of which he was accused. He was a hard man, rugged and deficient +in manners, but, seeing him constantly, she recognised that he was not +the sort of man to commit the crimes of which he was accused. + +For this reason she was kinder to him than ever she had previously been. +Denis Quirk, although he appreciated the fact, never attributed it to +any absurd reason, such as a younger and more conceited man might have +done. In the matter of women he was absolutely humble and wanting in +vanity, for he regarded himself as hopelessly ugly and deficient in the +qualities that charm the female sex. + +But poor old Mrs. Quirk had a romantic idea in her mind that the two +persons she loved best, after her husband, should make her happy by +marriage. She noted the kindlier feeling between them, and one evening +she spoke to Kathleen, most diplomatically as she believed. + +"You are beginning to understand Denis, honey. The more you know him the +better you will like him." + +It was an autumn evening, and the air was beginning to turn chilly. Mrs. +Quirk, who felt the cold, sat near a wood fire. Kathleen was beside the +window. Presently she would slip out to say a few words to Gerard, for +thus far had their intimacy gone that he frequently came and talked to +her in the avenue near the house. And these meetings were unknown to +Mrs. Quirk, who dozed in her chair, or to Samuel Quirk, smoking in his +den. There was nothing in their têtes-a-têtes, no word spoken, no action +done, that was wrong; but there was danger to the girl because of her +very innocence. She was this night working and watching. Outside a +bright moonlight lay on the trees and gardens, making the shadows darker +by the contrast. Gerard, who lurked in the shadow, would presently call +her from one of these. + +"Mr. Denis Quirk is an honourable man, and I respect him," she said. + +"It is near my heart----," Mrs. Quirk began. Then she paused. + +"Yes?" asked Kathleen. + +"Never mind, honey. If it is God's will, He will work it. It is +difficult to arrange things for Providence." + +A low whistle from a deep shadow, like the note of a bird. Mrs. Quirk +fancied it was a bird, but Kathleen rose and slipped out. + +"I shall be gone only a few minutes," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +TEMPTATION. + + +Kathleen O'Connor was walking slowly in the deep shadow of the avenue +with Gerard beside her. There was a stillness everywhere save for the +droning of flying beetles as they hurried past, apparently careless as +to where they might go. Beyond the avenue lawns, gardens, and trees were +distinctly outlined in the bright moonlight. From the pines and from +shrubs and flowers a sweet perfume arose, enervating, intoxicating, but +this was as nothing to the intoxicating power in the words of Gerard. +Never before had he or any man spoken to Kathleen as he did on this +night; never had she felt the same strange thrill as now. Not that his +words were evil or suggestive of evil; they were merely a powerful +appeal to the girl's affections. They appeared to come straight from his +heart, and they had a compelling effect upon her. + +"I am going away from Grey Town to-morrow, Kathleen," he began. + +Her heart sank at these words, for already his visits had come to assume +an important part in her scheme of life. + +"For a long time?" she asked him. + +"For six months. Will you come with me?" + +"I can't leave Mrs. Quirk," she faltered. "Not yet. Wait until you +return." + +"I may never come back," he urged. + +"Surely you cannot expect me to come with you, like this, at a moment's +notice?" she pleaded. + +He put his arm around her, the first time he had touched her, and she +did not shrink from him. + +"You love me, Kathleen. I am sure of it. I cannot wait until I return. +Come with me to Melbourne--now, at once. We shall be married there," he +said, in a low voice. + +"But I can't leave Mrs. Quirk like this. It would be so horribly +ungrateful," she protested. + +"You must!" His arm was more firmly around her. She had the feeling that +she was in his power, that he was exercising some influence over her, +hitherto unknown to her. "I need you more than she." + +"I can't," she answered, more faintly. "Why should we steal away +clandestinely, without telling Mrs. Quirk?" + +"Because I am compelled to go, and I cannot go without you. I will take +you to America, and give you a chance of seeing the world. We shall be +happy together, you and I. Come, Kathleen!" + +They had strolled back along the avenue, and were not far from the +house. + +"Kathleen! Honey!" + +Kathleen could hear Mrs. Quirk's voice calling to her from the house. + +"I must go inside," she urged. + +"No! You must come with me, now, to-night! There is the night express, +and I have a cab waiting for us outside the gate," he answered. There +was mastery in his voice, and she felt that she could not resist. + +"Kathleen! Honey!" cried the voice again. Looking up at the window, she +saw Mrs. Quirk framed in the light as she peered out. + +"I must go! I will!" she said. + +"Come with me," he answered, and began to lead her towards the gate. As +she went the voice became fainter and fainter: her resisting power +weaker. + +They were half-way down the avenue when they heard a man's steps, rapid +and firm. A moment later they could see the figure, though indistinctly, +in the shadow. For one moment Gerard hesitated, then with an oath he +sprang behind a thick shrub, leaving her free. Immediately she was +running towards the house, her heart palpitating, her breath coming and +going in gasps. She felt that she must get away from the temptation. + +In the drawing-room she found Mrs. Quirk still peering anxiously out +into the garden. The old lady did not hear the girl's entry, nor did she +know that Kathleen was present, until the latter went and touched her on +the shoulder; then she turned quickly. + +"I had a dream, honey, a fearsome dream," she said, "that someone was +taking you away from me. Sure, I thought it was," she added, lowering +her voice to a whisper, "the devil! I could see him leading you down the +avenue there, and I awoke calling out to you in terror. When you did +not answer me I went to the window to peer out." + +"No one shall take me away from you," said the girl. "I will stay with +you while you need me." + +She led Mrs. Quirk back to her chair, and placed a cushion behind her. +Then she remained beside her, gently stroking the old lady's hand and +singing to her in a low voice. Thus did Denis Quirk find them when he +entered. + +Little did he know how closely she had approached to destruction. Nor +was he aware that a man crouching behind the shrubs had viewed him with +the acute hatred of disappointment in his heart. Gerard had clenched his +fist in impotent rage, and cursed the man he regarded as an enemy. "I +will be even with you for this, Denis Quirk!" he had muttered to himself +as he went down the dark avenue, after waiting in the vain hope that +Kathleen might return to him. + +Of all this Denis Quirk was ignorant. He had fancied he saw figures as +he came up the avenue, but even of this he was doubtful. Entering the +room, and seeing Kathleen occupied with his mother, his voice became +almost gentle as he said: + +"Miss O'Connor, you are very nearly an angel." + +Kathleen appreciated the kindness of his words and tone, but she did not +look up nor answer him. She had not yet recovered from the scene in the +garden; to speak at this moment might have proved too much for her. + +Denis was, where women are concerned, quite ignorant and simple. Men he +understood, but the female mind was like a strange, unexplored +territory to him. He had a vast respect for women, a respect that +bordered on fear. To conceal this he made use of a brusquerie of speech +and manner that was merely a cloak to his real nervousness. Kathleen +O'Connor he regarded as an ideal of womanly perfection: he placed her on +a pedestal, and paid her his homage secretly. For her part, Kathleen was +beginning to realise that the rough exterior concealed a character +truthful, and not ungentle. Realising this, she had laid aside her +attitude of resentment, and adopted a friendly camaraderie such as may +exist between brother and sister. + +To-night, finding his remarks unanswered, Denis turned to his mother. + +"I have a plan for to-morrow, old lady," he said--"a day off. What do +you say to a boating excursion up the river?" + +Mrs. Quirk was still influenced by the vivid effect of her dream. It had +been peculiarly real, and had left a marked impression on her mind. + +"Will Kathleen be coming?" she asked. + +"Kathleen has not been asked," said the girl in a low voice. + +"Miss O'Connor was included in my plan," said Denis. + +"And will you come, honey? Sure, if I must be drowned, I would like to +have you beside me," said Mrs. Quirk. + +Denis laughed at the reply, and Kathleen could not forbear from a smile. + +"We will all go down together, and lie twined up in the bottom of the +river. It will make the fishes smile to see us," he laughed. "Be +prepared to-morrow, ten sharp." + +Kathleen was sorely tempted to ask his advice in regard to Gerard. +Indeed, she went so far as to call him back as he was leaving the room, +but, when he turned, she asked: + +"Have you any news of Desmond?" + +"The best," he answered. "He is doing well. Did I do right to send him +away?" + +"You did," she said; "but I could not foresee. Shall I thank you now?" + +"No need to do that. I am always at your service." + +"Denis meant that; every word of it all," said Mrs. Quirk, when her +son's footsteps had died away. "He is true to his friends, that boy is." + +"I am sure that he is," replied Kathleen. + +All night she lay between waking and sleeping, the events in the garden +returning constantly to disturb her. She still regarded Gerard as +something more than a friend; to-night she had stood on the threshold of +love. But she was afraid of him; the strange influence he exerted over +her had terrified her. What should she answer when he asked her to marry +him on his return, and what would she do without his companionship while +he was away? The morning found her still wearied with her night's +combat. It brought her a note from Gerard, written prior to his +departure. In it he urged Kathleen to join him in Melbourne, but all the +desire to do this had now left her. Last night in the garden she had +struggled almost vainly against his power, now she was able to realise +the folly and danger of that which he suggested. + +The quiet party up the Grey River, with Denis Quirk rowing and Mrs. +Quirk beside her, while she steered, was soothing to the girl's tired +spirit. + +As they wound in and out of the river bends, now between the frowning +grey rocks that jutted out on each side of the river, and now through +green meadows, where the cows were contentedly browsing, the quiet and +stillness of the day was a sedative to her. Here and there they would +pause to explore a cave, its interior, moist and covered with moss, +extending far into the rocky hill, away out towards the ocean. Now and +again they could obtain a distant view of Grey Town, a blue smoke +hanging about its roofs and church towers. + +Denis Quirk rowed steadily, but without undue exertion, and Kathleen +allowed one hand to trail in the water as she steered with the other. It +was a still day, and the river reflected the sky and the rocks as they +passed; even the cattle standing to drink in places knee deep in the +water were reduplicated. In silence the girl drank in the peacefulness +of the scene, while Denis Quirk cast an occasional remark at his mother +and her. + +About mid-day they drew the boat up on a patch of sand, while they +picnicked on a piece of green meadow land. When that was ended they +drifted slowly down the stream, and returned in the motor to "Layton." + +"Now," cried Denis, when he had assisted his mother and Kathleen out of +the car, "after a day of peace to return to war and strife. Don't you +feel better for the day off. Miss O'Connor?" + +"Much better. Why is not every day like to-day?" Kathleen asked. + +"We should not appreciate it properly. Work and play in thin slices +makes life an appetising sandwich. Good-night, and pleasant dreams." + +He turned to the chauffeur and told him to drive him to the "Mercury" +office. There he flung off his coat, and directed the staff with an +energy that was almost superhuman. With Denis Quirk and Cairns to +control the paper, it was not to be marvelled at if the Grey Town people +boasted of their daily paper. + +Sometimes Ebenezer Brown, smarting over an exceptionally vigorous +attack, vowed that he would start his old paper in opposition; but a +short reflection showed him the hopelessness of such an undertaking. + +"Wait until Gerard returns!" he said, rubbing his thin hands together. +"Then we shall see Quirk crumble up and fall into pieces. Take away a +man's reputation and you destroy him here in Grey Town." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +SYLVIA JACKSON. + + +"Marry? Why should I? I am perfectly happy as I am. My father dotes on +me and gives me everything I ask for. I know at least a score of men who +regard me as the last thing in feminine perfection. I am perfectly +content to remain as I am." + +Sylvia Jackson, fair haired, ethereal, as Desmond O'Connor had described +her, with large, rather sleepy, blue eyes, looked at Kathleen O'Connor +in surprise. + +"But you may fall in love," suggested Kathleen. + +"Love? I really don't know what it means. I have always liked to have a +few men about me and know that they will do whatever I ask, even to +destroying themselves. But the passion is on their side." + +The two girls were sitting in Kathleen's room, in evening dress, as they +had come from the annual club ball in Grey Town. There was a fire in the +grate, a lamp in a corner of the room was lighted and half turned up, +but it shed a very subdued light on the room. + +Kathleen remembered that Desmond had done his utmost at the ball to +monopolise Sylvia Jackson, that they had disappeared for a considerable +portion of the evening. She could still see her brother's flushed face +and sparkling eyes as he returned from some dark corner with Sylvia on +his arm. She had hoped to hear an avowal of love from Mrs. Quirk's +guest. + +"I fancied----," she began in a disappointed voice. + +"Of course I like Desmond," said Sylvia Jackson, divining her thought. +"He is so fresh and unconventional that we all like him at home. He is +the very nicest boy I know; but I am like a mother or an elder sister to +him. Why, I am centuries older than Desmond, not in actual years, but in +knowledge of the world. I shall find him a charming girl-wife, like you +are, but I shall always expect him to remain on my staff." + +"After he is married?" cried Kathleen. + +"Why not? It is a recognised thing, I assure you. But I suppose we must +go to bed. What an ugly man Mr. Denis Quirk is! Really, he is the +ugliest man I ever met!" + +"That is because you don't know him. Mr. Quirk's face is the worst part +of him," said Kathleen. + +"I have a dread of ugly men. I select my staff with particular attention +to good looks. What queer old people those Quirks are! The old woman +should be in the kitchen; I am sure she would feel more at home there." + +Now, if there was one subject upon which Kathleen felt keenly, it was +the virtues of Mrs. Quirk. She well knew that the old lady was laughed +at and derided behind her back; but no one had dared hitherto to speak +disrespectfully of her to Kathleen's face. Reddening slightly, she +answered: + +"Mrs. Quirk is the best and kindest woman I know; if you really wish to +be friends with me, don't say a word against her. I shall quarrel with +anyone who does that." + +"Don't quarrel with me, please! I am far too lazy for that. I always +agree with everybody, and for your sake Mr. Denis Quirk shall be +handsome, and Mrs. Quirk as refined as she is rich." + +It had been Mrs. Quirk's suggestion that Sylvia Jackson should be +invited to "Layton," and Sylvia, being at the time rather hipped at +home, accepted the invitation readily. Desmond O'Connor, on hearing of +her intended visit, managed to obtain a few days' holiday, and arrive in +Grey Town in time for the club ball. There he had her undivided +attention, an impossible thing to achieve in Melbourne. But the fact did +not make her less elusive. She laughed at him when he became too tender, +allowed him a certain degree of liberty to check him when he approached +the question of love. She was always gracious and kind to him, as to +every other man; in this way she prevented her staff from deserting her; +but, while she loved to be admired, she had expressed her true +sentiments to Kathleen as they sat together after the ball. + +For his part, Desmond O'Connor lived in a fever heat of passion. To hint +that Sylvia was not perfection was to make him an implacable enemy. She +so far encouraged him as to make him believe that the barrier between +them was the most fragile and easily broken affair, and that at any +moment it would be shattered by his great love. Relying on this hope, +he came and went at her bidding, filling to perfection the duties of an +obedient staff officer. + +On the morning after the dance, Kathleen met Sylvia in a somewhat +hostile spirit. She resented Desmond's devotion to the girl, and she had +been hurt by the allusions to Mrs. Quirk; but Sylvia did her utmost to +dispel this feeling. + +"I am sure you are cross with me," she said, "and I want you to like me. +I think you are the most charming girl I have ever met. For your sake I +intend to cultivate even Mr. Denis Quirk, and to make love to that dear +old woman." + +This programme she began to carry out scrupulously. To Mrs. Quirk she +was most attentive, and on Denis she exercised her fascinations, to his +intense surprise. + +"Do you walk into town?" she asked him. + +"Sometimes I do. It depends on the state of my liver. When I feel in a +desperate temper and inclined to destroy the whole world, myself +included, I walk into town; at other times I ride in the car." + +"Are you walking to-day?" she asked him. + +"I am," he answered. + +"Then I intend to walk with you, if I may," she said. + +"You won't enjoy it a bit. It is all that I can do to prevent myself +from snapping my own nose off," said Denis. + +"Oh, that does not matter a bit. You couldn't make me angry if you +tried. Will you come with us, Kathleen?" + +"I am afraid I can't leave Mrs. Quirk. But I will meet you in town, and +we will have lunch together," said Kathleen. + +"Come with us," said Denis Quirk, almost despairingly. "The mother will +get on for once without you." + +"I flatter myself that Mrs. Quirk will be quite miserable without me," +she answered, laughingly. "I have a very good opinion of myself, Mr. +Quirk; I feel that I am necessary to one person in the world." + +But she watched them as they walked down the avenue, wondering what they +were laughing about, perhaps a little bit annoyed at Sylvia Jackson's +presumption in forcing herself on Denis Quirk. + +Sylvia Jackson was very adaptable, where men were concerned. She rarely +found any great difficulty in securing the attention of a man, old or +young, when she desired so to do. It was her way to find out where a +man's special vanity lay. If he were so singular as to have no +particular vanity, she would discover wherein his interests were centred +and attack him through that avenue. So skilful was she, so insinuating +in her flattery and in her questions, that she rarely failed to secure +admiration as a woman of singular penetration. She had the gift of being +able to listen with apparent interest to a conversation, throwing in the +necessary question here and there. When it was necessary to talk, she +could change her tactics and make conversation for the shy, reserved +man. + +They had not gone far to-day before Denis Quirk said to himself: "This +is a clever woman." He was not far wrong in this appreciation, for +Sylvia Jackson was undoubtedly clever. Before they had come to Grey Town +the two were laughing and joking with one another as though they had +known each other for years. For a woman to arrive at such intimate +relations with Denis Quirk in a short time was a triumph. + +Desmond O'Connor was awaiting Sylvia outside "The Lounge," as the big +emporium in Gressley St. was called. Seeing her approach with Denis +Quirk, his brows contracted slightly, but he met them smilingly. + +"You call this punctuality?" he asked. + +"I call it feminine punctuality. If a woman fails to keep an appointment +by not more than half an hour, she is a model woman. I promised to meet +you at nine, and it is now barely twenty-five minutes past. Mr. Quirk, +could any woman achieve more than that?" + +"My acquaintance with women is so limited that I must refuse to +arbitrate. If I were Desmond, I should swear," answered Denis. + +"Have you been swearing, Desmond?" she asked. + +"If so, I have forgotten it. I am now the most supremely contented man +in the world," answered Desmond. + +"Well, good-bye, children!" cried Denis. + +He was surprised at himself for this speech; it was a frivolity that he +had never before been guilty of. But with Sylvia Jackson there were no +restraints, nor was his remark in the slightest degree extraordinary to +her. She called out after him as he went: + +"Don't forget our appointment after lunch." + +"You have charmed the grizzly bear," said Desmond. "I believe you could +teach him to dance." + +"I intend to do that. Before I go away he shall dance to my music, the +dear old grizzly," she answered. "I intend to drop you handsome men and +cultivate the ugly ones. Denis Quirk is charming!" + +"I believe he is a good sort," said Desmond, who was above the pettiness +of deprecating a possible rival. + +"I am sure that you are the very best of good sorts. Now, what are we to +do?" she answered. + +"Walk along the cliffs, and see the grandest sight in Nature--the +eternal war between the ocean and the land," he answered. + +And Sylvia Jackson, who was artistic and emotional to an extreme degree, +fully agreed with him when she stood on the cliffs that tower over the +sea just two miles beyond the town. + +A strong wind was blowing from the south, the sun shining through a sky +dappled with fleecy broken white cloudlets. The spray sparkled in the +bright light before it broke into a rainbow of changing colours. Above +the big rollers the cliffs rose in broken perpendicular columns; there +was a constant roar in the ears as breaker after breaker hurled itself +on the rocks. Sea-birds wheeled about overhead. In the far distance the +ocean stretched out, to where a bank of clouds rested on the distant +horizon, in slopes and peaks, a perfect copy of snow-clad mountains. + +"Don't stand so close to the cliffs!" cried Desmond. + +She laughed at him mockingly. + +"You need have no fear for me. I am an ethereal spirit, a thing of +vapour," she answered. + +"I wouldn't dare stand where you are; I should be drawn down. Good +heavens!" + +As he watched her she became suddenly pale and giddy. Seeing this, he +sprang and seized her in his arms, drawing her back, shaking and +trembling in every limb. + +"It was just in time," she said. "Another second and I was lost. +Suddenly a giddiness came over me, as if someone seized me and was +pulling me over the cliff. Take me away from this dreadful place." + +There were tears in her voice and in her eyes. She continued to sob +until they were remote from the sea. Then she suddenly asked, +laughingly: + +"Do you still imagine I am in danger that you continue to hold me?" + +"It was an opportunity I could not miss. Sylvia----," he said, sinking +his voice to the sentimental key. + +"Now, you must stop at once. Remember our compact. Once you become too +sentimental our friendship ends. Drop your arms by your side. That will +do. Now you may smile pleasantly and talk to me like a sensible man." + +It was a repulse, but it sounded rather as an invitation to continue the +siege in a less impulsive manner. So did Desmond construe what she had +said, and his spirits reflected the satisfaction which the belief +afforded him. When she joined them at lunch Kathleen found the two as +full of spirits as if they had been children. Their laughter and jests +were an offence to many who were lunching in the same room as they. To +these simple country folk the manners and style of the new school, to +which Sylvia Jackson belonged, were something as yet strange and +disagreeable. But the new school pays no attention to other people, and +rejoices in causing a sensation and outraging old-fashioned ideas. + +It was immediately after luncheon that Sylvia Jackson suggested: + +"We will go and visit Denis Quirk, and turn his office upside down." + +"I don't think you know Quirk," replied Desmond. "He's a martinet in +'The Mercury' office." + +"Oh, nonsense!" she cried. "Denis Quirk and I are like brother and +sister." + +She shot a quick glance at Kathleen to note the effect of this remark, +but Kathleen showed no sign of concern. + +"You will come with us, Kathleen," she continued, "and take a lesson +from me on the taming of bears. I positively love wild animals of the +human sort; they afford a natural tamer like me such a fund of +pleasure." + +"Oh, yes, I will come," Kathleen replied. + +She was vaguely surprised at the welcome they received. Denis Quirk was +a new personality to her; for the moment he threw away his accustomed +gravity and joined with his guests in their frolics. He led them around +the office, introducing them in turn to each employe, from Cairns right +down to Tim O'Neill, now promoted to office boy and occasional +reporter. He explained the mysteries of the printing room, and retailed +a score of newspaper anecdotes. Finally, he insisted on taking them to a +tea-room, and there ordering tea for the whole party. + +When he had parted from them to return to "The Mercury," Sylvia Jackson +asked: + +"What do you think of the martinet now? Can you suggest any other man in +Grey Town whom I can transform into something human?" + +"Ebenezer Brown," laughed Desmond O'Connor. "Why, there he comes, the +old rascal!" + +It was done in a moment. As the man came slowly up the street, Sylvia +Jackson dropped her purse in his path. It fell with a clink, and this it +probably was that caused Ebenezer Brown to stoop and pick it up. + +As he handed it back to her, Sylvia Jackson gave him a most gracious +smile. + +"Oh, thank you, Mr. Brown!" she said. + +Ebenezer paused for a moment to ask: + +"You know me, young lady?" + +"You would not remember me, but I met you once, years ago. My name is +Sylvia Jackson." + +"Jackson?" grunted the old man. "Don't remember the name, but I +shouldn't forget you if I had met you once." + +He went along the street, chuckling in his throat in a dry, disagreeable +fashion he affected when amused. + +"You took a great risk in allowing old Eb. to hold your purse. How he +resisted an inclination to pocket it I can't for the life of me +understand," said Desmond O'Connor. + +"Are there no other impossible men in Grey Town?" asked Sylvia Jackson. +"I feel so exalted by my two successes that I would love to discover a +really hardened woman-hater, and convert him to more humanitarian +principles." + +"Be content with what you have achieved, and devote your gifts to me," +said Desmond. + +Kathleen recognised that she was the unnecessary third, but they +protested that she must walk home with them, and managed to ignore her +presence entirely as they followed the dusty road to "Layton." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +DENIS REFUSES TO SPEAK. + + +Martin, the postman, was the most deliberate man in Grey Town. He never +hurried, and he never made a mistake. If he had twenty letters to +deliver at the same address, he would carefully read the address of each +one before taking the responsibility of handing it over to the +recipient. This accounted for the fact that Martin, the postman, was +invariably late. + +To Molly Healy, anxiously waiting at the Presbytery gate for the weekly +letter from Ireland, Martin was a constantly recurring cause of sin. So +keenly did she resent his leisurely methods that her indignation had +changed to anger, her anger almost to hatred, when she resolved to check +herself. + +"It must be stopped," she remarked to Mrs. Quirk, "or one day I will be +running at him with the pitchfork, and it would never do for the +priest's sister to be pursuing the postman through the town to destroy +him." + +"Sure, then, if I was you I would be praying for the man, returning good +for the evil he was doing you," said Mrs. Quirk. + +"But he doesn't mean it, and that is the worst of Martin. His conscience +is so big that it takes him all his time to carry it round. He's a +poor, good man, but it is murder I sometimes contemplate," cried Molly. + +At last she hit upon the device of giving Martin half an hour's grace +before expecting him. + +"I will be lenient with the man, and not expect him until he has +arrived," she said. "But it would do my heart good to pinch him." + +The half-hour had been prolonged to an hour, and Molly Healy was in a +white heat of fury when Martin arrived. + +"And what has kept you to-day?" cried Molly Healy. "You are the slowest +man in Grey Town, for sure, and that is saying you are phenomenally +slow." + +"You are angry," said Martin, in his most deliberate fashion. + +"Angry! I am just quivering with ungovernable temper. I could shake +you!" + +"You require your letters delivered by a twenty horse-power auto-motor," +replied Martin. + +Therewith he began to run through the letters with a deliberation that +was almost cruel. + +"When you have done shuffling the cards, perhaps you will give me the +one you have in your hand," cried Molly. + +"Patience, young lady. I have a duty to perform----." + +"Your duty is to give me my letter. If you only knew how near you were +to sudden death you would be in haste to get away from me." + +"There you are, five letters--one for you. Let me see; is it for you?" +Martin began to read the address over. + +"Oh, the Lord forgive you! You are an occasion of sin to me." + +"Patience, Miss Molly! Here you are, and good-day to you. The Lord send +you a better temper!" + +Martin delivered the letters, and proceeded placidly on his path of +duty. Molly Healy watched him until he had turned a distant corner. + +"The man will never get to heaven--he is too slow; and he will prevent +me getting there unless Providence removes him to another round." + +She carried the letters to Father Healy, and then proceeded to shut +herself in her room, and there absorb the news from Ireland. In laughter +and in tears she read her letter, and then re-read it, determined to +lose not one word of the contents. + +Dr. Marsh was with Father Healy when the letters came. + +"May I read them?" the priest asked. + +"Certainly! Why not?" replied the doctor in his brusque manner. "I will +digest a slice of theology." + +He took a book from the table and opened it. + +"I hope it will agree with you," laughed Father Healy, as he tore the +first letter open. + +"Humph!" grunted Dr. Marsh. "When I am dying I will send for you; +meanwhile I am quite content to remain a sinner." + +Father Healy did not reply. He had become keenly interested in his +letter. Twice he read it, and then he asked: + +"Where was it that Denis Quirk told you he was editing that paper of +his?" + +"'The Firebrand?'" asked Dr. Marsh, who had become absorbed in the book +he was reading. + +"Yes! yes!" cried the priest. + +"I don't exactly remember. I fancy it was Goldenvale. You had better ask +Denis. Now, I can't agree with this," said the doctor, referring to +something he had just read. + +"I will controvert with you in due season. Just now I am worried. You +are a safe and reliable man. Read this." + +Father Healy handed the letter to Dr. Marsh, who having glanced at it, +became deeply interested in the contents. + +"Goldenvale! Do you know this man?" he asked. + +"How should I?" replied the priest, almost irritably. "Could you expect +me to know every priest in America? But I could find out if there were +such a man." + +"I would take this letter to Denis Quirk, and allow him to deny it. It's +a lie, a palpable lie. I am sure of that." + +"And so am I; but lies are more readily credited in Grey Town than the +truth. I will see Denis Quirk at once. Will you come with me?" asked +Father Healy. + +"Not to 'The Mercury' office, but a part of the way. Put your hat on +while I finish what I was reading." + +Denis Quirk was in the outer office as Father Healy entered. He was +inditing a letter to Tim O'Neill, who now claimed, among his other +qualifications, a certificate as a typewriter. + +"Good-day, Father Healy!" cried Denis Quirk. "What can I do for you? A +paragraph to encourage your congregation to build the new school?" + +"Not at present, Mr. Quirk. If you will give me five minutes, I will ask +no more." + +"Then come into my room. Finish that, address it, and post it, Tim." + +"Yes, sir. And might I then go down to the hall and report that +meeting?" + +"Certainly, Tim. This is the keenest man on my staff, Father." + +Tim O'Neill beamed all over at this praise, and he settled himself +resolutely to his task. Meanwhile Denis Quirk's office door closed with +a bang on Father Healy and himself. + +"I should like you to read this," said the priest, as he handed the +fateful letter to Denis Quirk. + +The latter took it and read it frowningly. Then he leaned back in his +chair, and regarded the priest with a composed face. + +"Well?" asked Father Healy. + +"Well?" responded Denis. + +"You will, of course, deny the calumny?" + +Denis Quirk shook his head. + +"The writer is a good man and a priest. As for the accusation, let time +be the judge. I shall neither acknowledge nor deny it. There are others +concerned besides myself." + +Father Healy was for the moment bereft of the power of speech. He could +not understand Denis Quirk's attitude. At last he cried: + +"You are accused of being a divorced man!" + +"If I am, the action was not from me. I then adopted the attitude I now +propose to adopt. I merely sat quiet. There are persons concerned in +this whom I refuse to injure." + +"And what do you intend to do?" asked Father Healy. "There will be a +horrible scandal in Grey Town." + +"I shall do what I did in the States--just live it down and wait. Time +will put everything straight," said Denis Quirk. + +"Your wife has married again?" the priest asked. + +"I believe she has. Father Healy, all that I ask of you is your +confidence and trust. There is certain to be a storm, but I am strong +enough to stand it. I don't wish to lose my friends, you least of all. +Will you believe in me?" + +Father Healy looked in the man's eyes, and Denis Quirk met his gaze +unflinchingly. He was particularly ugly that day, but Father Healy could +read human nature, and he believed that Denis Quirk was honest. + +"I would have preferred you to have proved yourself innocent," he said. + +"I cannot do that; others can. It is for them to speak, not me," replied +Denis. + +"I promise that I will hold to you," said the priest. + +"Thank you, Father. If you will do that--you, the old mother, and one +other--I am content," he said. + +As the good priest left "The Mercury" in a particularly dejected frame +of mind, he found Dr. Marsh waiting for him. + +"Well?" he said. "A canard, I suppose?" + +Father Healy made no reply. + +"You don't mean to tell me----," cried the doctor. + +"I believe he is a wronged man, but he refuses to speak." + +"I must speak to him myself. Don't wait for me, Father. Just get away +home, and pray that a miracle may put this straight." + +Denis Quirk was still sitting as the priest had left him when Dr. Marsh +burst in upon him, and plumped down on the chair that had been vacated +by Father Healy. + +"See here, Quirk," he began, without further explanation, "I am a man of +the world, and I know the utmost capabilities of human wickedness. I +don't believe you are a real libertine. But I know Grey Town. Many a dog +has been hanged here because of his bad name. You must disprove this." + +"No, doctor. If you knew my story you would recognise the strength of my +position. I must trust to time to put things straight." + +"They will start another paper and fight you." + +"Let them. That is what I want, a good fight," replied Denis. "Someone +whom I can hit--hard!" + +"And what if I withdraw my capital?" + +"You won't do that, doctor," replied Denis, with a quiet smile. "I know +you." + +"Well, Quirk, I'll tell you what I think of you--a clever, Quixotic +fool. But I will stand by you to the end. I am a sort of Ishmaelite; +nothing pleases me better than an exchange of hard blows." + +The two men shook hands in silence, and Dr. Marsh went out to find +Father Healy waiting for him. + +"We are a pair of idiots, you and I," said the doctor. "We ought to +unite in hooting Denis Quirk out of Grey Town, but we shall fight for +him to the finish. He is too ugly to be hopelessly wicked," he added, +after a pause. + +"Then you and I are not altogether bad," laughed the priest. + +They walked in silence to the doctor's gate. + +"Won't you come in?" he asked, as they paused to say good-bye. + +"No, thank you. It is a strange thing I should have received the +Bishop's letter to-day," said Father Healy, reflectively. + +Dr. Marsh could not grasp the meaning of this remark, so he refrained +from comment on it. + +"The Bishop wishes me to take a six months' holiday," continued the +priest. + +"You have earned it by hard work. A most reasonable suggestion. Take a +rest before you die suddenly," said the doctor. + +"And he suggests that I return to the old home in County Cork," added +Father Healy. + +"Naturally. Where would you go but to Ireland?" + +"Why not America? It is a great country, and cousins of my own in every +city. It might be I would find a cousin in Goldenvale itself." + +"Goldenvale! Father Healy, you are a strange man, a many-sided man, but +I don't think you are the best fitted person I would select to be +discovering other men's secrets." + +"Denis Quirk won't help himself. I intend to help him," said the priest. + +"And if you prove him guilty?" + +"No man need know but that I went to Cork, after all. But something +tells me I shall find him innocent." + +"I am prepared to lay 6 to 4 on that myself. Well, Providence go with +you, for you deserve it; and if you require money----," said Dr. Marsh. + +"Not one penny. I have a small income of my own, inherited from my +mother, God rest her soul! Molly shall go to the Finns, in Brunswick. +The change will do her good. And no one need know but that I am in +Cork." + +"In Cork you shall be, if I have to perjure my soul to prove it!" cried +Dr. Marsh. "No man shall come near me when I come to die but you, for +you are the best man living." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +"AND ONE OTHER!" + + +The Grey River was in flood. It came down the valley a torrent of yellow +water, rushing madly between the rocks where the channel was narrow, +spreading out far and wide over the low-lying meads, bearing with it the +trunks of trees and other debris snatched up along its course. It had +overflowed the lower bridge, and rendered it impassable to traffic; the +upper bridge was threatened by the turbulent river. + +There had been storms far up among the mountains, where the Grey takes +its origin, and rains all down the valley. From every small stream and +gully a volume of clay-coloured water flowed into the main stream. But +the day was bright and sunny after the rain. The sunshine glittered on +the yellow surface of the stream, and on the green fields sloping +upwards from it. Viewed from the distant hills, the Grey valley was a +shining, sparkling amber, encased in an emerald setting. + +Kathleen O'Connor had viewed the flood with concern. On the further bank +of the river was Mrs. Sheridan's small cottage, where a poor widow +struggled to keep a large family by milking on the share system. +Kathleen knew that one of the children was seriously ill, and that the +mother, always living from hand to mouth, but always carrying a brave +face, would be seriously encumbered by Michael's sickness. She feared, +too, that the flood waters might even reach to the little cottage, with +disastrous results. + +"Shall I ride over and see how Mrs. Sheridan is?" she asked, when the +heavy rain had ceased, and sunshine was raising a warm vapour from the +sodden earth. + +"Why not?" replied Mrs. Quirk. "It will do you good--and Sylvia, too." + +Sylvia Jackson still remained at "Layton." She had come prepared to +spend a monotonous fortnight at Grey Town, because she was tired of the +city. But she had remained at "Layton" day after day, accommodating +herself to the inhabitants and to the routine of the house. No one +resented her presence, nor did anyone desire her departure, for she had +made herself pleasant to all. In Mrs. Quirk's eyes she stood second only +to Kathleen. Samuel Quirk regarded her as chief critic and adviser on +the estate, and to Kathleen she was a cheerful, madcap companion, who +reminded her that she was yet young. Denis Quirk's sentiments in regard +to the girl he carefully concealed from the outside world, even from +Sylvia herself. He was polite and deferential, yet humorous, with her; +but she would have liked him to demonstrate clearly that he had enrolled +himself among her bodyguard. She had given him abundant opportunities so +to do, walking almost daily into the town with him, paying flying visits +to "The Mercury" office, and playing dreamy music while he smoked his +evening pipe. But Denis Quirk made no sign. + +When Kathleen O'Connor proposed to ride round and see the Sheridans, +Sylvia was painting. She was an adept at every variety of artistic work. +Of any of the arts she might have made a success had she been content to +devote her talent solely to that one; but she was too versatile to be +completely successful, and while everything was good, nothing was +perfect. + +"I would love to go with you," she cried. + +"And I will meet you at the lower bridge and ride home with you," said +Denis Quirk. + +In accordance with this arrangement, the two girls rode towards Mrs. +Sheridan's after breakfast. Kathleen O'Connor was a perfect horsewoman. +Sylvia Jackson, on the other hand, was unused to horses, and very +nervous; but she was too proud to confess the fact. Kathleen, while +recognising Sylvia's lack of capacity was too charitable to comment upon +it. She had protested once, when her friend asked to be allowed to ride +a rather high-spirited horse, but when Sylvia retorted hotly, Kathleen +offered no further opposition. Thus it came about that Sylvia rode in +constant dread, and made a nervous, fidgety horse a thousand times more +irritable. + +The road towards the upper bridge that crosses the Grey at Swynford is +bordered by stretches of green grass. Along this the two girls rode at +an easy canter, saving when Dr. Marsh's car rushed past, the doctor +driving furiously, as was his way. This incident upset Sylvia's horse +for a considerable time, but he quietened down into an easy canter in +the deserted bye-road that leads from Swynford, along the farther bank +of the Grey, to Mrs. Sheridan's. + +At a rise in the road they paused to look down on the cottage. It stood +surrounded by pine trees, with a small garden around it. It was a +demonstration of Mrs. Sheridan's perpetual industry that she found time +to keep the garden in order, despite her numberless other duties. A +bright little patch of gay colours she had made of it, and behind it she +had cultivated a neat kitchen garden. + +"The river has not done any harm to Mrs. Sheridan's cottage," cried +Kathleen, with great relief, as she viewed the flood waters, still +several feet below the level of the garden. + +"Can you understand anyone living in such a poky, ramshackle little +hovel?" asked Sylvia. "I would rather be dead and buried than live +there." + +"Mrs. Sheridan cannot choose; she must live there or die. She is a great +woman," said Kathleen. + +Mrs. Sheridan met them at the gate, clean, tidy, and talkative. She was +noted throughout the district for her loquacity, but, if she spoke at +great length, she always spoke kindly. + +"Is it you, Miss O'Connor?" she cried. "Sure, it was like yourself to be +thinking of me and Michael. Michael and me, we was thinking of you. Only +last Sunday I said to the boy, 'Miss Kathleen will be going to Mass,' +the which I couldn't do myself, and more is the pity; but when Dan was +down with the chickenpox, Father Healy himself, no less, the Lord bless +the good man! told me it was my duty to be with Dan. 'The Lord will +excuse you from the chapel,' he said to me, 'and you can read the Mass +to Dan.' The which I did to Michael here, and him listening to me as if +he understood it all, every word. But won't you come inside, you and the +young lady? You will be excusing the house, miss; and if you would be +taking a cup of tea or a glass of milk, there's no spirits in the house +to be offering you, for I think it is putting temptation in the way of +some that's too fond of it." + +"Yes, we will come inside and see Michael," cried Kathleen. "And if we +might have a cup of tea----." + +"Not for me," Sylvia whispered; "I couldn't drink tea in a place like +this." + +"To be sure," cried Mrs. Sheridan, not hearing Sylvia's comment. +"Michael will be pleased to see you. Doesn't he call you 'Pretty Miss +Kathie'? But you will excuse the liberty in a boy. He is recovering, the +doctor says, which himself was here to-day, and the car stuck out there +in the mud, and the doctor swearing! Michael could hear him in his bed, +which it wasn't good for the boy to hear. But the doctor is too kind, +for sure, to mean any harm, even to the car, and Michael and me +pretended not to hear him, nor to know that he was angry. The Lord will +overlook the words he used to the car and the council that should be +taking care of the roads." + +Kathleen hitched her own and Sylvia's horse to the fence, and entered a +small, but wonderfully clean, room, that served as a kitchen and general +sitting-room for the family. Here they found Michael, a boy of four, +the baby of a family of nine. The other children had gone, as a troop, +to the State school at Swynford. There they would remain all day, to +return and assist at the milking, such of them as were capable. + +Kathleen sat down beside the boy, and began to entertain him. In a few +minutes the two were laughing together, as became old friends. Kathleen +had brought sundry gifts with her, among them a sovereign, which she +slipped under his pillow, to be discovered after she had gone. + +Sylvia sat rigidly on her chair, absorbing the scene with her apparently +sleepy eyes; while Mrs. Sheridan bustled about, talking unceasingly, as +she spread a clean table cloth and prepared the tea for her guests. + +"Did you ever hear such a rain? And the wind! The Lord preserve us; it +was praying Michael and me was, the others fast asleep, that the cottage +might not be blown away, and us in it. It was like the night himself +died. I was sitting here beside him, watching to see him flicker out. He +died as peaceful as a child--just one smile for me, and he was gone. An' +me alone in the house with him. Mrs. Smith that would have been beside +me--she's dead herself now, God rest her soul, for she was a good +neighbour--the rain and wind prevented her and many another. And there I +sat beside him, as I sat beside Michael, listening to the rain beating +on the window and roof, and the trees groaning as if in mortal anguish, +and the house creaking, and outside the river and sea roaring. It was +praying I was for the morning, for the night makes the storm more +fearsome. Now, sit down, Miss O'Connor, and you, miss; the tea is made. +It's only bread and butter I can offer yous, but it is all I have, and +welcome you are to it." + +Kathleen sat down, but Sylvia Jackson, to Mrs. Sheridan's intense +concern, refused to eat or drink. + +"Thank you, I am not hungry," she said. + +Kathleen was hurt by what she regarded as a want of courtesy. Everything +was scrupulously clean, if poor, and the widow willingly gave all that +she possessed. To make amends for her friend's refusal, Kathleen drank +more tea and consumed a larger amount of bread and butter than she had +ever done before. Then, after a chat on the affairs of Grey Town, which +Mrs. Sheridan made a kind of prolonged solo, Kathleen and Sylvia rose to +go. + +Mrs. Sheridan followed them to the gate, talking vigorously. As they +rode away her voice might still be heard as she chanted Kathleen's +praises to Michael. + +"What a dreadful woman!" said Sylvia. + +Kathleen was already deeply hurt by her friend's conduct, and she fired +up into intense indignation at this remark. + +"Dreadful!" she cried. "Mrs. Sheridan is a good, honest woman. She has +given her life for her children, and she is the soul of good nature." + +Sylvia laughed good-humouredly at this championship. + +"A very excellent person, no doubt," she said, "but an ungovernable +tongue. She never ceased talking while we were there. No wonder himself +died peacefully. How he must have longed for death--and peace!" + +"You don't understand----," Kathleen began. + +"I don't profess to understand. I belong to another school to you. My +set detests the prosaic and commonplace; we must have the clever and +original. Platitudes are detestable to us, unless they come clothed in a +brilliant metaphor. Homely virtues I neither pretend to understand or +admire. I much prefer eccentricity, even clever vice." + +Kathleen laughed tolerantly, recognising that further argument or +expostulation was vain. + +"Shall we try the lower bridge?" she asked. + +"Of course we must. Denis Quirk is to meet us, and I wouldn't disappoint +him for anything. Now, there is a man after my own heart, strikingly +ugly, so ugly as to be beautiful, and wonderfully clever, sometimes so +rude as to be quite original, full of a sardonic humour--an absolutely +unique type. Denis Quirk is the sort of man I might condescend to love, +and if ever I do love it will be like that river in flood down there." + +The road ran high above a rocky gorge, through which the Grey was +rushing in a turbulent torrent of water. It roared as it went, and +leaped up angrily at the rocks on either side, foaming and bubbling, +swirling into small whirlpools, as if in an impotent passion at the +constraint. + +Kathleen looked at the flood, and then at Sylvia's sleepy face and +dreamy eyes. + +"I wonder if you could love?" she asked. + +"I wonder, too. Sometimes I scoff at the very thought of such a thing, +and sometimes I believe that I could be as wild and turbulent as the +river is to-day." + +Beyond the gorge the river widens out into a broad estuary before it +enters the sea. It is across this estuary that the lower bridge has been +built. Just below it is the bar, where river and sea were battling in a +wild confusion. + +When Kathleen saw that the bridge was half submerged, and that the +current was still strong, though not to be compared in violence with the +maelstrom that poured through the gorge, she reined her horse in. + +"We must turn round and ride home the way we came," she said. + +"Turn around? Why should we? I intend to cross. I can see Denis Quirk on +the farther bank." + +"And he is warning us to turn back," said Kathleen. + +"The more reason to go on. Follow me if you dare." + +Seeing that Sylvia was determined to cross, Kathleen urged her own horse +alongside of Sylvia's, and seized her friend's rein. + +"You shall not go on!" she cried. + +"Let go of my reins!" said Sylvia. + +Kathleen recognised the note of anger in the voice, and saw that the +customarily sleepy eyes were flashing, and that there was a line of +determination on the usually smooth forehead. But this did not influence +her. + +"No. I will not let go," she replied. + +Sylvia Jackson raised her whip. Once it fell smartly on Kathleen's +hand, leaving a red wheal; still Kathleen held on. But when the blow was +repeated more viciously than before, with a cry of pain she released the +rein. + +"Do you imagine you can stop me, with Denis Quirk on the other side?" +Sylvia asked, and urged her horse on to the flooded bridge. I have +already said that Sylvia was not an expert rider; her horse realised the +fact, and faced the water with a snort of terror. The handrail of the +bridge alone appeared above the muddy stream; even this was submerged +occasionally as a wave rolled up from the turbulent bar, barely one +hundred yards below the bridge. + +The horse began to rear in terror, threatening every moment to plunge +over the rail of the bridge into the stream. Kathleen, behind, could do +nothing but follow, while from the further bank a small collection of +men and women watched in a panic that prevented action. But Denis Quirk +was quick of thought and prompt to do; he sprang from his horse and +dashed along the flooded bridge towards Sylvia. + +"Sit still!" he cried. "Keep your rein loose, and get your feet free +from the stirrups." + +Scarcely realising what she was doing, Sylvia obeyed him. He attempted +to seize the horses' rein, but the animal was maddened with terror, and +kept turning away from him. At last, however, Denis managed to throw his +arm around Sylvia and drag her from the saddle. Immediately after, +whether still further frightened by his action or bewildered by the +water, the horse reared over the handrail into the flooded river. He was +washed almost to the bar, but managed to reach the further shore, and +gallop home to his stable at "Layton." + +Denis Quirk carried Sylvia across the bridge, followed by Kathleen, +whose horse went quietly through the flood secure in his rider's +composure. On reaching the farther side, Denis realised that Sylvia had +fainted. There was, however, a small hotel close at hand, and here Denis +left the girl, safe in a kindly landlady's care. + +He found Kathleen dismounting from her horse, her face very pale from +the anxiety that Sylvia's danger had caused her. + +"Why did you allow her to do such a foolish thing?" he asked, abruptly. + +Kathleen held her hand, with the marks of the whip still on it, out of +his sight. It was not for her to tell him how her attempts to restrain +Sylvia had been received. + +"It was against my wish that she crossed the bridge," she answered. + +"Even for you it was a madcap thing to do," he said. "You can never +trust a horse in such a flood as this. I have telephoned for the motor; +you and she had better go home in it, while I take charge of your horse. +You have caused me a terrible anxiety." + +He turned away, leaving Kathleen scarcely able to control her +mortification and annoyance. Denis Quirk had, she told herself, +disregarded her danger, and spoken to her like a disobedient child. By +what right did he lecture her or hold her responsible for Sylvia's +wilfulness? When the landlady came to ask if she would come to her +friend, it was on the tip of her tongue to refuse but she restrained +herself by a great effort, and went into the room. + +Sylvia was sitting on a couch, very pale, but smiling placidly. As +Kathleen entered, tears came into her eyes, and she asked in a penitent +voice: + +"Can you ever forgive me? I can't forgive myself for striking you. But +no one has ever attempted to prevent me from having my own way, and I +was resolved to go on. I have been sufficiently punished." + +"Never mind about it now," said Kathleen. "You did not realise the +risk." + +"I shall never forget it! Let me look at your hand. Did I do that? Oh, +how cruel of me to strike you! You won't tell Denis Quirk that I did +it?" + +Kathleen, who had begun to feel her anger slowly evaporating, became +suddenly as indignant towards Sylvia as she had been prior to the +latter's apology. It was evident to her that it was not because of the +injury Sylvia had done her, but lest she should complain to Denis Quirk, +that Sylvia was asking forgiveness. + +"I have no intention of telling Denis Quirk," she answered, coldly. + +"Now, don't be angry, Kathleen--please. I am a spoiled girl, I know. +Everybody has conspired to spoil me. I am impulsive and passionate, but +no one has checked me. Let that be my excuse." + +She put her arm around Kathleen and drew her down on the couch beside +her. + +"Kiss me," she said, "and say you forgive me. There, that's a dear! Now +tell me exactly what happened. It is a blank to me." + +Kathleen told her exactly what had taken place, Sylvia listening with +intense interest. + +"Isn't he brave?" she asked. "And he took me in his arms, and never +thought of you! What if your horse had gone over the bridge after mine?" + +"Denis Quirk knows that I can ride 'Douglas' anywhere," Kathleen +answered. + +"I suppose so," said Sylvia; "but he might have made sure of the fact. I +think he is splendid. All those other men stood gaping on the bank, and +he was the only one to act. It is a moment like that that proves a man. +Scores of admirers have told me what they would do for me, but only one +man has done--only one," she added, dreamily. + +That evening Kathleen was restless; the day's adventure had disturbed +her more than she was aware of. After tea, having made Mrs. Quirk +comfortable, she slipped on a thin lace shawl and went quietly into the +garden. Walking about in the evening stillness, her accustomed composure +returned to her. Presently she slipped into a summer-house, and sat down +to think placidly. + +As she sat there, she heard voices, and, to her surprise, Denis Quirk +and Sylvia paused directly in front of the summer-house. The very +thought of eavesdropping was repugnant to her, but they were speaking so +quickly and earnestly that she had heard part of their conversation +before she could interrupt it. Remembering Sylvia Jackson's passion, +possibly fearing an outburst of malice, Kathleen kept very quiet, +resolved never to give a sign of what she knew. + +"You saved my life," Sylvia said, "and I could refuse you nothing. Ask +anything of me in return." + +"Nonsense!" Denis answered, laughingly. "You exaggerate what I have +done." + +"You say that because you are brave. Brave men laugh at their own +courage, as you do. But I know, and I worship you!" + +The last words were spoken almost in a whisper, and in the tender voice +that Sylvia Jackson was mistress of. But for once the words rang true. +Kathleen held her breath, wondering what any man could do when so spoken +to by such a woman as Sylvia. + +Denis answered curtly, almost rudely: + +"My dear young lady, please don't weave any absurd romances about me. I +am an ordinary and very commonplace man, not accustomed to soft words +from pretty women. Take my advice and go home to your parents; forget +about me as quickly as you can. I have no intention of ever marrying, +and I don't pretend to be a lady's man. Now, go inside, like a good +girl, and forget to-day." + +"Forget!" Kathleen noted a change in Sylvia's voice. "I shall never +forget to-night." + +Their voices and steps grew fainter, until they were finally lost to +Kathleen's ears. After a few minutes she also went towards the house. +Denis Quirk stood higher in her estimation than ever he had done before. +He had been severely tempted, and had put the temptation behind him. +Sylvia Jackson was what is termed a man's woman, but Kathleen could +realise the fascination she was mistress of. She had been courted by +many men; to-night she had thrown herself at Denis Quirk's feet, and he +had resisted where other men might have succumbed. With these thoughts +in her mind, Kathleen greeted Denis Quirk kindly when he met her near +the house. + +"I am afraid I was rude to you to-day," he said, without preamble. "I +spoke without thinking. I want you to excuse me." + +"I do," she answered, simply. + +"Naturally, you were hurt," he said. "Believe me when I say that I would +rather offend anyone than you. I place very few women among the +heroines, but you are one of them. For any other I would have been +afraid in the flood; I knew that you were safe. That was the reason why +I offered you no help. My fears were for your friend. I am fully +forgiven?" + +"Fully," she answered. + +"Thank you! That is all I want. Good-night!" + +He turned on his heel, and went down the avenue on his way to "The +Mercury" office. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +DESMOND GOES UNDER. + + +In the period of pique and disappointment, when she realised that Denis +Quirk was impervious to her attractions, Sylvia Jackson suddenly awoke +to a new interest in life. At the moment she was hesitating between an +interesting decline and a fearful vendetta. But this did not deter her +from attending the Grey Town Intellectual Society's lecture on Art and +Artists, which was delivered by George Custance, R.A., nor did it +prevent the lecturer from fascinating the impressionable girl. + +Until that moment Grey Town was unaware that Custance existed. A few of +the townspeople had occasionally noticed a man in a grey suit, who was +living at the "Fisherman's Retreat," near the mouth of the Grey River. +They had seen him handling a rod from the banks of the river, and had +sometimes observed him with a sketch-book in his hand, transferring a +view of the coast to paper. + +But he was so quiet and unobtrusive that few persons paid any great +attention to him. It was indeed entirely by chance that the Intellectual +Society secured his services. The secretary wrote to an artist friend in +Melbourne, suggesting a lecture; the answer was short and concise: +"Sorry I cannot find time to amuse you. Try Claude Custance; he knows +more about art than any other man in Australia." + +"Try Custance! Who the dickens is Custance?" the secretary asked the +president. + +"Blessed if I know. Ask Gurner; he is sure to know," the president +answered. + +In the club Gurner was nicknamed the Grey Town Directory. He was +regarded as a local Burke, who could fire off the pedigrees and +performances of every family in the district. + +The secretary discovered him in the club, taking a novice down at +billiards. + +"Do you know a man of the name of Custance?" the secretary began. + +Gurner prided himself on his knowledge. To be unable to point out the +identity of any person in the town was to ruin a reputation. He paused +abruptly from the stroke he was contemplating. + +"Custance, did you say?" + +"Yes; Custance, an artist." + +"There is a grey man of that name at the 'Fisherman's Retreat.' He is a +bit of an artist, they tell me. I will ask Cowley," he said. + +A few days later he found the secretary in his office. + +"I have found out all about that artist man," he said. + +"Custance? Does he know anything about art?" + +"Do you know anything about law? He's a classic winner, the very deuce +of a top-notcher. He's been hung over and over again. You can't teach +him anything about art," replied Gurner. + +"I wonder if he would lecture for us?" + +"Leave him to me. A nice fellow; we fraternised over fishing, with a +whisky and soda to wash it down. He began to tell me tall stories, and I +added six inches to everyone he produced. I will secure him for you." + +This he did the following day, for Custance was quite an obliging man, +and a personal friend of the artist who had refused the invitation. + +The news spread, as it usually does in a country town, and interest in +the lecture became phenomenally keen. The intellectuals had for once +secured public support. They promptly raised their charge for admission +from sixpence to one shilling, with an additional sixpence for booking. +They advertised the attraction in capital letters and created a furore. +The consequence was that the learned and those who assumed the virtue +combined to fill the hall to overflowing. + +Custance was an ideal lecturer. He took possession of the platform and +audience in an easy, unassuming manner, and delivered an address amusing +and learned, yet understandable. And well he might, for he was not a +mere painter, but one who had lectured on art to select audiences, and +had sold pictures at fabulous prices. At this very moment London was +asking, "Where is Custance?" and here he was in Grey Town. + +The town would have made much of him had he permitted it. But he was +there for work and quiet. A shoal of invitations were fired at him and +refused; he preferred to lapse into obscurity. A few of the more +obtrusive attempted to force their society on him: to these he was +frankly rude. The more tactful fell in with his humour, and were content +to nod to him. + +Sylvia Jackson was introduced, but beyond a passing glance of admiration +Custance relegated her to forgetfulness. She was, however, determined to +know him, and she engineered a second meeting with her usual diplomacy. + +"A picnic to the beach would be ideal," she suggested. "Not to the +frequented part, but to that quiet little beach near the mouth of the +Grey. Just ourselves, Mrs. Quirk, you and Kathleen, and I." + +She knew that Custance was sketching a seascape not far from that spot. + +"Why not?" asked Mrs. Quirk. "What more should we want? You and Kathleen +are all I need--with Denis to come to tea, if he has the time." + +"Sorry to disappoint you," said Denis Quirk, "but I must be at the +office all day. Cairns is away on holiday, and not a man with any +initiative but Tim O'Neill to support me." + +Denis Quirk's absence was a great relief to Sylvia Jackson. She still +entertained a tender admiration for him, but, as he continued to resist +her fascinations, she preferred that he should not be present to +frustrate or ridicule her plans. Mrs. Quirk and Kathleen were easily +duped, but she feared the penetration of Denis Quirk. Nevertheless she +made pretence of a great disappointment. + +"We counted on you," she remarked in an agonised voice. + +"Never count on a paper man. We are the most unreliable people in the +world," he answered. "Make the old mother happy, and don't keep her out +too late." + +With these words he went down the avenue whistling the air of a melody +that Kathleen had sung the night before. + +Sylvia had studied her plans with the greatest care, and she put them +into action when they were safely arrived at the strip of beach that +lies beyond the river bar. + +"You and Granny prefer to be alone," she told Kathleen. "I intend to +take my sketch book and see what I can do with the view round the +point." + +Therewith she sauntered away, giving them no time to protest. The spot +she had chosen for her sketch is one of the most magnificent on the +coast. + +It is a small patch of sand, terminated towards the east by black +precipitous rocks, against which the sea is perpetually pounding in +great breakers. On this day the sea was a wonderful dark blue, and very +peaceful, save where it thundered at the base of the cliffs. On the +horizon a bank of grey clouds rested on the water like a remote island +crowned with mounts and peaks. The smoke of a distant steamer rose in an +almost straight line upwards; nearer the shore a small fishing boat was +moving gently backwards and forwards, its sails barely filled by the +gentle breeze. There was a sense of rest in the scene, as if the ocean +were slumbering after the strife of a few days previously. + +Here Sylvia found the artist, working quietly at a picture that he had +almost completed. He had caught the vivid colouring of the ocean, the +grey bank of clouds and the distant smoke, and had transferred them to +his canvas. + +Sylvia approached and stood behind him, but he did not recognise her +presence, for he was absorbed in his work. + +"How do you contrive----," Sylvia began. + +Custance turned towards her with a quick start, for, like other artists, +he had nerves that were peculiarly sensitive and reacted acutely to +impressions. Seeing that the questioner was a beautiful girl, he +regarded her with a kindly smile. + +"Forgive my rudeness," said Sylvia, "the question was almost +involuntary." + +"The question is not yet completed. How do I contrive----?" he asked. + +"How do you contrive to snatch up the colours of nature and place them +on your canvas?" + +"I have all the colours there," he said, pointing to his palette, "and +so has every painter; but some of us approach nearer to Nature. I have +never yet succeeded in quite pleasing myself. I have the deep blue of +the sea, but not the representation of infinite depth and infinite +power." + +"You approach very closely to it," she answered. "Now sit down and +paint, and let me watch you. I am a painter myself; not an artist like +you, but one who dabbles a little in an amateur fashion." + +"May I see your sketch book?" he asked, and took it from her hand. "Very +good!" he cried. "Shall I tell you what I think?" + +"Please do!" + +"You might be an artist, if you were content with that alone; but you +are too versatile. Am I right? The result is great possibilities that +will never be realised unless you concentrate your power on one thing." + +"Let me watch you," she said, "and I will resolve to do nothing but +paint." + +She sat on a sand bank behind him, and he painted his picture, turning +occasionally to speak to her. + +At last she rose unwillingly. + +"I must go, or my friends will fancy I am lost. May I come here again +and take a few more lessons?" + +"Certainly, if you will. I shall be delighted. But when this picture is +completed I pack up my effects and go. It is a pity you do not live in +Melbourne," he added regretfully. + +"But I do," she answered. + +"Then you must come to me and study the finishing touches of your art. +You need only a few more details and you will be an artist." + +"Oh, you are too kind!" she cried. + +"Not at all. It is a privilege to encourage talent," he answered. +Nevertheless had she not been an attractive woman, he would not have +offered his assistance so willingly. + +"I suppose your parents will not object?" he asked. "You can assure +them I am a most trustworthy young man." + +"My parents allow me to do exactly what I wish," she answered. "You see, +they can trust me," she added, smilingly. + +"Naturally. Then it is a promise." + +This was their first meeting. Subsequently it became her custom to ride +out alone after breakfast. She chose the morning, when Kathleen was busy +and could not accompany her, and she took her sketching book; but most +of her time was spent in watching Custance, and absorbing his art. + +When her teacher left Grey Town she suddenly realised that her parents +and friends in Melbourne needed her society, and, after an affectionate +parting from Kathleen and the Quirks, was carried out of Grey Town life +by the train that is termed an express. + +In Melbourne, an indulgent father and mother, who fondly believed that +she was perfect, readily consented to her improving her talent under the +teaching of the great artist, and she made rapid progress in her art. +But this was not the chief result of her lessons. Slowly she became +infatuated with the personality of Custance, while he, having begun to +play the game of love simply for the excitement it afforded him, finally +found himself involved in a grand passion. This he declared to her in +language suggested by his artistic temperament, and she responded in a +similar strain. + +Then came a pause, when he asked himself: "Is it fair that any woman +shall link her fate to mine?" He looked at the small syringe on the +mantelpiece and the tiny little bottle beside it. He thought of the +marks on his arm, of the passing inspirations he thus found, and of the +subsequent fits of remorse. + +The following day, while they were working in the studio, Sylvia +painting and he criticising her work, he asked: + +"If I were a drunkard, would you still care for me?" + +She did not so much as turn while she answered: + +"Whatever you are, I have given myself to you." + +"There are worse things than drink," he said, as if communing with +himself. "There are drugs that enslave and debase a man; drugs that lead +him into the gardens of pleasure and raise him to the heights of +delight, so that he believes himself to be a superman, and," he almost +groaned, "lower him to the uttermost depths. Supposing----." + +She turned to face him smilingly. "I refuse to suppose," she answered. +"I have resigned myself to you, and I am ready to accept and condone +everything. I love you, and that is sufficient for me." + +What could a man such as he, who had never denied himself anything, do +under these circumstances? He threw his scruples to the winds and made +love in a feverish manner, regardless of the cost. Sylvia introduced him +to her parents, and he was made welcome by the hospitable and kindly old +people. At last he offered himself to Mr. Jackson as a husband for +Sylvia. But here he met with a check, for the old man had a strange +antipathy for artists; his capable, matter-of-fact business mind +mistrusted the emotional, and he firmly believed that artists were +governed by the emotions. He was willing that Custance should be a +friend; he refused him as Sylvia's husband. + +Custance was prepared to accept this as an adverse judgment, and to bow +to Mr. Jackson's decision; for he was a man of honour. But, when he +announced his intention to Sylvia, she refused to accept it. + +"By what right," she asked, "does my father take my happiness in his +hands? I can best judge the husband I need, and I refuse to give you up. +It is too late for him to interfere now." + +"You must remember----," he began. + +"I will remember nothing but that I love you, and that you have told me +you love me. That is the only thing that counts. You do love me, +Claude?" she answered. + +"Love you! I worship you," he answered, "but your father has done so +much for you----." + +"I grant that. There is no father like him. If he had stopped me in the +beginning I would have accepted his commands. Now it is too late. I +can't obey him now." + +"I feel myself bound by honour----," he said. + +"You are bound by honour to me. My father has no right to tell me who I +shall marry. I refuse to be treated as a child; I am a woman, capable of +choosing my own husband." + +Thus did she urge him on against his better judgment, and one day they +were missing. For better or worse Sylvia Jackson was married to Claude +Custance, brilliant, erratic, a slave to morphia. For his sake she +forgot her duty to her parents, the love and kindness they had lavished +on her. The day that she left them a cloud came and rested over their +home. For her, marriage proved a cruel and bitter disillusionment, for +no woman can ever rival that deadly mistress, morphia. + +The night before Sylvia's elopement, Desmond O'Connor had dined with the +Jacksons. Mr. Jackson had hoped to displace Custance with the handsome +young fellow whom he loved, and Sylvia had made use of Desmond to +conceal her infatuation for the artist. They had sat together out on the +verandah, and she had given him a rose. + +"A rose for constancy," she said, as he held it in his hand and inhaled +the perfume. "You deserve it." + +"Shall my constancy be rewarded?" he asked eagerly. + +"What a handsome boy you are!" she laughed. "I wonder will it be +rewarded?" + +"Why do you tease me?" he asked. "If you could read my heart----?" + +"I can read it in your eyes. I know every word they say. Come inside and +sing to me." + +In his fine tenor voice he sang, at her request, Tosti's "Good-bye." +That was his farewell to Sylvia Jackson. + +The following morning Mr. Jackson failed to appear at business. This was +an almost unprecedented event, and caused quite a flutter of excitement +in the office; but it was not until the afternoon that Desmond learned +the reason. He was summoned into the Chief's office to find Mr. +Jackson, grey-faced and worn, a broken man. + +"I have ill news, my boy," he said very kindly to Desmond. "Sylvia has +run away with Custance." + +Desmond made no reply. Suddenly the world had altered for him; he had +passed out of the light into an impenetrable blackness. He sat with his +head bent down, changed in a moment from a light-hearted boy to a +despairing man. + +"I want you to come home and fill the place that she had. Mrs. Jackson +and I love you, and we need a child." Mr. Jackson continued. + +"I can't do it," cried Desmond. "I should be thinking of her all the +time. I have lost all faith." + +And so the world believed; for Desmond O'Connor, while he eschewed the +coarser vices and worked relentlessly, renounced for a period the +religion that his father's life should have made dear to him, and went +on his way a professed disbeliever. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE VIRTUE OF GREY TOWN. + + +The City Fathers who governed the municipality of Grey Town were not +unlike the councillors in other towns and cities. They laid no claim to +a pre-eminence in wisdom, professing to be merely ordinary men of +business, of sound common sense, and strictly honest for the greater +part. + +Councillor Garnett was perhaps the single exception to this rule of +honesty. The other councillors worked from a sense of duty, possibly +urged by a worthy ambition. Councillor Garnett occasionally dipped his +hand in the municipal purse, and brought from it as many golden guineas +as he could clutch. Yet he had led the Council for many years, and was +still regarded by the Conservative element as a worthy leader. In all +probability he would have continued to rule the civic affairs of Grey +Town had not Denis Quirk come to the town to turn things upside down and +sweep away certain municipal cobwebs. + +The question as to the purchase of a block of land in the town for the +erection of Council stables and cart houses was made a test question by +both parties as to who should control the future destinies of Grey Town. + +It had already been decided to erect the necessary buildings. Councillor +Garnett had then moved that a certain vacant section in one of the +streets should be purchased, when Denis Quirk rose to his feet. + +Immediately there was a certain electrical excitement in the Council +Chambers, that was reflected in the alert faces of the councillors. They +sat attentively with expectant ears as he began to speak. + +"Sir," he said, "I am here to oppose anything that approaches municipal +corruption." + +"I object to that word," growled Garnett. + +"You object to the word and I object to the deed," Denis replied, +quietly. "We are not here to line our own pockets, or, if we are here +for that purpose, we are in the wrong place. Our purpose should be to +act as watch-dogs for the ratepayers, to guard their interests. What if +the dogs start to worry the sheep? I accuse Councillor Garnett in this +matter of abusing his position as a councillor. I accuse him of +disingenuousness that borders on fraud." + +"Oh, come, come," said an elderly councillor, who was constantly +scandalised by Denis Quirk's want of municipal decorum. "Fraud is an +unpleasant word." + +"Undoubtedly," Denis continued. "But it amounts to that. Councillor +Garnett is directly interested in the land that he is urging the Council +to purchase at a false price." + +The words were spoken quietly, and with a certain deliberation that was +impressive. + +"That is a lie!" cried Councillor Garnett, now aroused to fury. + +"Order! Order!" cried the Mayor. "I ask Councillor Garnett to withdraw +that word." + +"Let Councillor Quirk withdraw his accusation first," suggested another +councillor. + +"I intend to prove it," answered Denis. "Will Councillor Garnett tell me +who is George Haynes?" + +"How should I know?" replied Councillor Garnett, doggedly thrusting his +hands in his trousers pockets and tilting his chair backwards. + +"Who should know better than you? George Haynes is a dummy, a former +clerk in your office, who has been made to appear the owner of this land +to cover you in this transaction. I have the copy of a deed here that +directly proves my statement." + +"How did you obtain it?" asked Garnett, when someone plucked his sleeve +and thrust a paper in to his hands. + +"Turn the tables on him. Ask him why he left Goldenvale; has he been +divorced; and what about the funds of the Goldenvale Investment Society +which he was accused of embezzling?" he read; but, when he turned to see +the messenger, the latter had vanished. + +"Never mind how I obtained it. May I read it?" Denis asked the Mayor. + +"One minute first. Let us have the credentials of this reformer before +we listen to his accusation. I refuse to be judged by a dissolute +ruffian, a divorced man and one accused of embezzling the funds of an +investment society. Why did Councillor Quirk leave Goldenvale?" cried +Councillor Garnett, triumphantly. + +This accusation came as a thunderbolt to the Council, when those who +were friendly to Garnett were pondering how they should act in view of +Denis Quirk's charges; and those who stood opposed to Garnett were +rejoicing in his discomfort. To the former his counter charges came as a +relief; to the latter they brought doubt and consternation. Only one man +seemed perfectly composed and he was the person accused. + +"My past history does not concern the Council if I can prove my present +statement," he said very quietly. + +"It concerns the Council vitally. How can we believe a man with your +reputation?" asked Garnett. + +"The latter part of that charge is false." + +Again a paper was thrust into Garnett's hand. This time Denis Quirk +noted the action, and the face of Gerard, the messenger. He smiled +grimly. + +Garnett glanced at the paper and read the heading. + +"Quirk in Court. Accused of misappropriating the funds of the Investment +Society. Case part heard." + +"Does Councillor Quirk know this paper?" he asked. "The 'Goldenvale +Investigator?'" + +"I used to know it. It was a rival of my own paper, 'The Firebrand,' and +a most unscrupulous paper." + +"Perhaps you remember this?" + +Garnett handed the paper across the table to Denis. + +Denis read the heading aloud to the Council, ending with the last lines: +"Case part heard." + +"Have you the next issue of this rag?" he asked. "If so, you will find +that the result of this case was a complete vindication. I was +triumphantly acquitted. A month later you will find an abject apology +from 'The Investigator.' This was a trumped-up affair, the work of my +enemies. To-morrow I shall publish the full details in 'The Mercury.'" + +But the Council were determined that he should no longer be heard. When +he asked again: + +"May I read this document?" the Mayor replied: + +"I do not think it is in order." + +"I intend to read it," cried Denis. + +"I rule you out of order," answered the Mayor. + +Denis began to read slowly and deliberately, but the opposing +councillors prevented him with a babel of cries. The meeting finally +broke up in great disorder, after Denis had attempted to make himself +heard and had been escorted from the Council Chambers by the Town Clerk. + +The following day he began his battle with Grey Town, a fight in which +all fair-minded and right-thinking men conceded him a victory. He +published the full account of the proceedings in the Goldenvale Court, +ending in a triumphant acquittal, and the subsequent apology in "The +Investigator." He also published the document purporting to be signed by +George Haynes. It was an acknowledgment of the loan of a sum of money, +equivalent to that which Haynes had paid for the land under offer to the +Council, and a promise to repay the money at an exorbitant rate of +interest to Garnett. Very few impartial men doubted the real meaning of +the transaction. + +But Garnett knew Grey Town. It was not a particularly moral town, but +there were periods when it arose in virtuous indignation to punish the +evil-doer, and it generally selected as its victim the man who was the +least guilty. Denis Quirk was made the object of one of these outbursts +of public morality. He was a man of dissolute morals, divorced under +peculiar circumstances. Denis Quirk must be booted out of Grey Town. + +The Quirks were at breakfast on the day that followed the scene in the +Council Chambers; only Denis was absent. Samuel Quirk was reading "The +Mercury" when his son's name caught his eye. + +"What is this about Denis?" he cried; but as he read he wished he had +not spoken, for he loved and respected his wife, notwithstanding his +professed scorn for her. + +"And what is it?" she asked. + +"Never you mind. Denis can fight for himself," he answered. + +"Just read it to me," she urged. + +"What for would a woman be wanting to hear such things?" he answered, +and thrust the paper in his pocket as he went out. + +But Mrs. Quirk was determined to know. She had noted the frown on her +husband's face, and gathered from it that he was reading ill news. + +"Just slip out, Honey, and ask Joe for his copy. I must know the worst," +she said to Kathleen. + +"Mr. Quirk does not wish you to know," Kathleen suggested. + +"Not knowing is worse than the very illest news. I will be in a fever +until I hear. Just run away and do what I ask of you." + +Kathleen recognised that Mrs. Quirk was determined, and wisely obeyed +without further hesitation. But when she saw the nature of the charges +she paused before reading them aloud to the old lady. + +Denis Quirk, with his customary straightforwardness and honesty, had +printed the account of the scene in the Council Chambers word for word. +There it stood--his own accusation and the counter-charges urged against +him. He had attempted neither palliation nor excuse. But in the same +issue of "The Mercury" he had reproduced the account of the proceedings +in the Golden Vale Court, that had ended in his acquittal. More than +this, he had reprinted the apology of "The Investigator," as it had +appeared in that paper. + +But to Kathleen and to Mrs. Quirk the account of the divorce proceedings +was the most serious indictment against Denis, and here he offered +neither denial nor excuse. Both women held firmly to the belief that +marriage is sacred and irrevocable, and that no human power--nothing +short of death--can annul the bond uniting man and wife. + +Fearing to hurt her old friend, Kathleen attempted to avoid this part of +the accusation. But she was a bad dissembler, and Mrs. Quirk very keen. + +"There is something more, Honey. Let me hear all that those backbiters +found to say," she urged. + +When she had learned the full account of the charges, she burst out into +lamentation. + +"To think of it!" she cried. "Denis, the apple of my eye, to be in that +Divorce Court! It is, for sure, the wickedest place ever invented by +man--and him there!" + +"But he did not appear," said Kathleen. + +"And them saying all those things against him! Where was he, then, if +not giving them back the lie? I don't believe it, not one word of it +all. He has his enemies, and they have invented this. Oh, why isn't +Father Healy here to advise me?" + +"Why not go and ask Denis?" suggested Kathleen. "He will tell you the +truth." + +"Do you believe he did what they say of him?" + +Kathleen looked out at the bright sky flecked with white clouds, at the +green lawns, and the masses of colour in the flower-beds. The sun was +shining brightly, scores of birds uniting in melody, music, brightness +and peace everywhere. + +"I would almost as soon believe that this world was not created by +Almighty God," she answered, without disrespect, for she had a profound +trust in Denis Quirk. + +"God bless you, Honey! Then why should I be doubting him? I will go and +speak to the boy. Sure, he never yet lied to me. If he has sinned, the +Lord forgive him. And what am I to judge him?" + +The motor was ordered at once, and in a short space of time it carried +Mrs. Quirk and Kathleen to "The Mercury" office. Tim O'Neill was in the +outer office, bright-faced and very busy, as was his custom. He welcomed +the ladies with a smile. + +"Is Denis in?" asked Mrs. Quirk. + +"Mr. Quirk? Yes, he is in. Were you wanting to see him?" Tim replied. + +"Who else?" said Mrs. Quirk. + +"I will stay here and talk to Tim," suggested Kathleen. "That is, if Tim +can spare the time." + +Tim was a gallant youth, and he answered blushingly that it was an +honour and pleasure to speak to Miss O'Connor. Meanwhile Mrs. Quirk +entered her son's room. + +Denis Quirk was reckoning up the consequences of the last night's +proceedings, and considering the best method of carrying on the +campaign. As his mother entered he looked up with a frown, that changed +into a smile when he saw who his visitor was. + +He had constantly urged her to inspect the office, but she had always +refused to come. + +"Sure, you are busy; and what would you be doing with an old body like +me?" she was accustomed to say. + +"So you have come to visit me at last?" he cried. + +"I have come to talk to you, because I could not wait until you had come +home," she answered. "What is this in the paper?" + +He had hoped that she might not hear of his trouble, knowing how seldom +she interested herself in the contents of a paper. + +"Who has been telling you?" he asked. + +"Who but himself at first, and when he would not satisfy me I ordered +Kathleen to read it to me," she answered. "Oh, Denis, the shame of it! +That anyone should dare say that you were a divorced man!" + +"It's the truth, mother," he answered through his teeth. + +"You, the son I was always proud of, to be going into a place like that! +It is a shame that there should be such iniquitous places in a Christian +land!" she cried. + +Denis put his hand very gently on her shoulder in a caressing manner +that was out of keeping with his accustomed attitude. + +"See here, mother," he answered, "a man can only be judged in the light +of the Eternal Truth. In that light I am innocent." + +"Then why not prove them liars that have spoken these things against +you?" she asked. + +"Someone had to suffer, and I could best bear it. I am a man, a strong, +hard piece of humanity, and well able to stand a few bad names. But +there are others, weak and frail, who would be destroyed by the scandal +of bitter tongues. Better the world should abuse me than them. Some day +I shall stand innocent in the eyes of the world as in the sight of God." + +"Then it is all lies?" she asked, looking into his brave, ugly face. + +"It is true that I was divorced, and true that I am innocent," he +answered. + +"I believe you," she cried, throwing her arms around his neck and +kissing him. "My heart is light again. Little I care what people may say +or think when I know it is false. Sure, there is only one that can truly +judge us, Almighty God, and to Him I will go and return thanks." + +She went smilingly out of the office, and Kathleen recognised that +Denis Quirk had proved his innocence to his mother's satisfaction. + +Ebenezer Brown seized the opportunity for reviving "The Observer" with +Gerard as editor. In capability and brilliance he was not to be compared +with Cairns, but the public marked its disapprobation of Denis Quirk by +supporting "The Observer" and neglecting its rival. Day by day the +circulation and the advertisements of "The Mercury" dwindled until at +last Denis Quirk summoned a meeting of those interested in his paper. + +"If we intend to win out, I must go," he said. "The public has awoke to +a sense of virtue and selected me for punishment. It has blundered on +the wrong man, but that does not make the case any better. When I have +gone, "The Mercury" will return to its own and destroy 'The Observer'." + +"I say stay in Grey Town and fight it out," said Dr. Marsh. "I am +prepared to put my last penny into the paper." + +Samuel Quirk was there with Dr. Marsh, Cairns, and the staff of the +paper, right down to Tim O'Neill. + +"Would you be running away?" Samuel Quirk asked indignantly, "with me to +help you fight the blackguards? You, an Irishman, whose fathers have +battled for independence in the dark days as in the fine ones? No, Denis +you will remain here and trample 'The Observer' under your feet once +again." + +"I don't need any pay, sir," said Tim O'Neill. "I'll work for nothing, +just for the love of you and the old 'Mercury'." + +"Good boy, Tim! You are gold from the hair of your head to the soles of +your feet. But I shall go to Melbourne and open out there. Once I am +out, 'The Mercury' will have a fair run, and Ebenezer Brown, Gerard, and +Garnett will be sorry they invested their money in a hopeless cause. You +shall buy me out, Dad." + +The day before Denis Quirk's departure he found Kathleen alone in the +dining room. + +"Miss O'Connor," he said, speaking less confidently than was his custom. +"I am not an idealist. As a general rule I class men and women as bad or +indifferent, but I have a great respect for you, and I want you to +believe in me." + +"I do," cried Kathleen eagerly. + +"Men have been tried and convicted on false evidence," he went on. "The +world judges us by results, but I want you to disregard the past and +take my word that I am innocent." + +"I have always believed it," she said. + +"Thank you," he said, and was turning away when Kathleen said: + +"You are going to Melbourne, Mr. Quirk. I place Desmond in your hands. +Bring him back to the Faith." + +"I shall do my best, but no man can constrain another. Desmond must work +out his own salvation," he answered. + +When his business was completed, Denis Quirk departed from Grey Town. +But Ebenezer Brown and his satellites discovered that his absence made +things even more uncomfortable for them than had been the case during +his presence in the town. "The Mercury" rose buoyantly to resume its old +power; and in a month's time it had crippled its rival beyond recovery. +Samuel Quirk took his son's place on the Council, and there asserted +himself so triumphantly that Councillor Garnett recognised that it was +time for him to retire. Grey Town awoke to sudden municipal vigour, and +the town put on a modern, up-to-date appearance, in keeping with a new +commercial activity. Those who had flourished under the old system +retired to their holes, impotently cursing the new regime. Their triumph +over Denis Quirk had proved a veritable disaster to Ebenezer Brown and +his companions in evil. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +FATHER HEALY'S MISSION. + + +It was a warm night, and Father Healy was entertaining his friends in +the garden of the Presbytery. They sat together on the green lawn that +faces the town and the distant ocean. In a quiet and secluded place, +just within earshot of their conversation, Molly Healy sat on the lawn, +her back supported by a big pine tree. Near her a kitten was playing +with Mollie's collie dog. Father Healy had returned from Goldenvale, and +his cronies had gathered together to greet him, and hear from his lips +the account of his travels. Dr. Marsh asked, abruptly, almost +impatiently: + +"Your mission was a failure, Father Healy?" + +"Not entirely a failure," answered the priest. "I have brought back no +evidence to prove Denis Quirk innocent, but I am convinced that he is." + +"You went away with a bias in his favour," suggested Clark. + +"I did, and I come home still more biassed. I saw the priest who wrote +to me, a good man, but to my mind a poor student of human nature. He +received me kindly, and made me welcome. In the evening we talked of +Denis Quirk. He told me what a great man Denis had been before the +divorce case. There never was such a scandal in Goldenvale. I asked him +what sort of a woman was Mrs. Quirk. 'A splendid lady,' said he, 'clever +and talented. She was under instruction for the Church at the time, but, +naturally, she did not go on after divorcing her husband.' 'And how do +you reconcile a good man, going to his duties regularly, doing the +things Denis was accused of?' said I, quoting the old Latin proverb, 'No +one becomes suddenly altogether base.' 'That was where the scandal was,' +he answered me. 'Did he leave Goldenvale in disgrace?' I asked him. 'No, +he stayed on, and went and talked the Bishop over. The Bishop wrote to +me; I have his letter, and you may see it,' said this good priest." + +"And what did the Bishop say?" asked Mr. Green, who had listened +attentively. + +"He just told Father Richardson that Denis had seen him, and that there +was no valid reason to prevent him from the Sacraments." + +"Did you meet Gerard there by any chance?" Dr. Marsh asked. + +"I did, and never were two men more surprised than when we ran into each +other's arms round a corner. Gerard began to explain why he was there. +You see, he had a maiden aunt in the town," said Father Healy, smiling +all over his face, "and I had a cousin, which was true, for I discovered +him soon after my arrival there. The next day Gerard called on me, and +began to tell me about Denis Quirk. He was grieved over it, the poor +man! It was as bad as if his great grandmother had just died." At this +sally the company laughed. + +"I told him," continued Father Healy, "it did not surprise me. It is a +wicked world, and it would not astonish me to hear that you yourself +were not quite perfect, said I." + +"Not quite perfect," growled Dr. Marsh. "If ever there was a thief, +Gerard is the man." + +"How do you prove that, Doctor?" asked Clark. + +"From the company he keeps. To be hand in glove with Ebenezer Brown is +certain proof of a man's criminality." + +"Merely presumptive evidence," replied Clark. + +"Did you make further enquiries?" asked Mr. Green of Father Healy. + +"I saw Mrs. Quirk--that used to be--and Mrs. Clarence that is now." + +Dr. Marsh grunted, as was his way when anyone of whom he disapproved was +mentioned. + +"And what did you think of her?" he asked. + +"That divorce is a failure. If ever there was an unhappy woman, Mrs. +Clarence is that one. I sent up my card to her; presently she sent down +a message: 'Would Father Healy come up?' I went up three stories in a +lift to the prettiest little flat you can imagine. A nice, tidy maid +showed me into a charming little room, and there I found the lady. She +is an artist, and a clever one, they tell me; a pretty woman, and +agreeable; but unhappy, if I am any judge of happiness. I told her where +I had come from, and what do you think she asked me, 'Did I know Denis +Quirk?' 'Know him,' said I, 'of course I do; a fine man, and honest.' +Then she began to praise him, until at last I asked her: 'Did you know +him?' The lady was lost in confusion, but at last she answered: 'We were +married.' 'And what are you now?' I asked her." + +"That was not like your customary caution," said Mr. Green. + +"It was a mistake, but I was hot with indignation at her asking for +Denis. She shut up at once like the blade of a knife. But before I left +her she said to me, 'Will you give Denis Quirk a message?' 'Certainly I +will,' I answered her. 'Tell him I shall never forget his nobility,' she +said. What do you make of that?" + +"It was not the message of a deeply-wronged woman," said Mr. Green. + +"Precisely my opinion, but I wasted no more words on her, merely, 'Good +day, Madam.' As I was leaving the flat I met a man at the door, short, +stout, with bloodshot eyes, and baggy eyelids. 'What are you doing +here?' said he. 'Paying a morning call,' I answered. Thereupon he began +to call me unpleasant names, but I brushed him on one side, and went +home to wash my hands. I pity that poor lady, that has leaped from the +frying pan into the fire." + +"And there your enquiries ended?" suggested Clark. + +"I paid my respects to his Lordship, a kindly old man, with plenty of +common sense. 'I know nothing of Denis Quirk,' said he, because, as I +understood, his lips were closed by the seal of Confession. 'But,' he +asked me, 'what do you think of him?' 'I believe he is innocent,' I +answered. 'Speaking as a man who has carefully reviewed the case, I +believe you are right,' said he. What do you think of my mission, Mr. +Green?" + +"With you, I consider it not altogether a failure," the clergyman +answered; then, as an afterthought, "If all Roman Catholics were like +you, we would all be Roman Catholics." + +"There are many better than I, and a few worse. You must make allowances +for the weaknesses of human nature," the priest answered. "Come inside +now and play bridge." + +"Did you see Desmond O'Connor on your way home?" asked Dr. Marsh. + +Molly Healy, from her secluded place, strained her ears to catch her +brother's answer. + +"Naturally I did," he said. "Desmond is a great man now, a partner in +the firm of Jackson and Company, and coining money, they tell me." + +With this he intended to content them, but Dr. Marsh asked, +inquisitively: + +"Did you bring him back to your Church?" + +"I did not try. There are seasons to speak and seasons to say nothing. +It was not the time to argue with him." + +"Why not the time? You could have put him on the broad of his back," +said Dr. Marsh. + +"To what purpose? I was not there to quarrel with him. The boy will come +round.... Let us get to bridge!" + +Molly Healy, in the quiet of the garden, turned her eyes towards the +dark, limitless ocean. She could not see it, but its droning was in her +ears. To it she often turned in her moments of depression, when she +walked in those lower depths of melancholy that are occasional with +natures which mount to the heights of happiness and merriment. It seemed +to her that the ocean was responsive to her moods, that it answered back +her mirth, and whispered sadly when she was depressed. Looking towards +it now, she whispered: + +"Desmond O'Connor will win through. Sure, I will start Bridget Malone +praying for him. They say she never failed to get what she asked for." + +Therewith she followed the men inside, to find them playing their game +in the silence of strict bridge. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THROUGH THE GORGE. + + +Kathleen O'Connor had been spending the day with Mrs. Sheridan, and was +returning slowly, laden with the gossip of the countryside, her rein +hanging loosely on Douglas' neck. + +She had many things to trouble her young mind at that moment. The +thought of Desmond was always with her; she could not reconcile herself +to his professed want of faith. Though Father Healy told her to have no +fear, and Mrs. Quirk bade her trust in God, she carried a heavy heart +for her brother. + +Only the day previously yet another sorrow had been confided to her. She +had accompanied her dear old friend, her second mother as she called +her, to Dr. Marsh. After the examination the doctor had called her back +into his surgery. + +"I give her six months to live," he said; "but you must keep it to +yourself. Old Samuel Quirk has a heart that might stop at any moment. He +must not know." + +"I may write to Denis Quirk?" she asked, anxious to share the burden +with someone. + +"By all means. But tell him not to come back until I send for him," the +doctor answered. + +She had accordingly written to Denis Quirk, confiding the ill news to +him. The prospect of separation from Mrs. Quirk was hard to bear, for +she was a mother, and "Layton," a home, to the girl. + +The road from Mrs. Sheridan's farm to the lower bridge now dips down +beside the river, and now rises high above, where it runs through the +Gorge. It was at a spot where the river banks are low that Kathleen +heard her name called from the river. Looking towards the spot whence +the voice came, she saw Gerard seated in a boat that he had moored to +the bank. He had been fishing, pipe in mouth, for with the failure of +the "Observer," he had returned to desultory journalism and idleness. + +Kathleen reined her horse in, and he scrambled out of the boat and came +towards her. He was wearing a low-necked shirt; his face and neck were +tanned by the sun, as were the arms, bare to the elbow. Without doubt he +was a handsome man, and the bold, devil-may-care expression on his face +did not make him the less attractive. Kathleen knew that many a girl in +the district, well-to-do and not bad looking, would have welcomed the +attentions of Gerard. + +But, ever since his return from Goldenvale, Kathleen had recognised that +the old feeling for him had died out of her heart. He had expected to +resume the old, intimate relations, but she had held him at arm's +length. Two things were accountable for this--a dread of the influence +he had once exerted over her, and resentment of the part he had played +in the downfall of Denis Quirk. Gerard had not accepted the girl's +change of attitude with philosophy, although he had given no sign that +it affected him. He smiled pleasantly as he stood beside her horse's +head, one hand stroking the satiny skin, the other on the bridle rein. + +"This is quite a pleasant chance," he said. "We never meet one another +now." + +Kathleen murmured something about being so very busy. + +"It is my loss," he answered. "But there is no reason why we should not +make the most of this chance meeting. There is my boat. Tie your horse +to a tree and allow me to scull you up the river." + +"I have no time," Kathleen replied. "I must hurry home to Mrs. Quirk." + +"Nonsense," he answered; "Mrs. Quirk can wait for once. You can't refuse +me the last favour I shall ever ask of you." + +"I can and I will," Kathleen answered; then she added, with a laugh: +"You can find any number of girls only too willing to take my place." + +"Undoubtedly, but I am a man of caprice. If I order turkey for dinner, I +will have turkey or nothing. To-day I intend that you shall do what I +ask. If you will do it gracefully, I shall accept it as a great favour; +if you refuse, I shall be compelled to insist." + +Kathleen became frightened. She cast a glance at his face, careless and +bold, staring up into her own with an ardent admiration, and a second +glance around her. The place was lonely and unfrequented; only +occasionally did a farmer's cart or gig drive along the road. On the +further bank of the river a line of pine trees hid them from the distant +farm-houses. Under these circumstances it was wisest to temporise. + +"If I accept, how long will you keep me?" she asked. + +"That depends entirely on the amount of entertainment I find in your +society." + +"Then I will accept. Will you kindly tie my horse to that tree?" + +She dismounted quickly, refusing the help he offered her. Then she threw +the reins in to his hands. The nearest tree was some yards distant, and +she waited until Gerard had approached it. Then she suddenly made a run +towards the boat, and, unhitching the rope, stepped in, and pushed out +from the shore. Gerard, seeing what she had done, ran towards the river +with a loud curse. + +Kathleen could row, and she put the oars in the rowlocks, and sat down +to scull. At the same moment Gerard sprang from the bank into the +stream, and began swimming towards the boat. Kathleen strained at the +oars, and little by little the distance between them increased, although +Gerard was a strong swimmer. + +But there are sand-spits on the Grey, and on one of these the boat +stranded. With a loud shout, Gerard welcomed the fact, while he made +stronger exertions to gain the boat. Kathleen seized an oar, and stood +up, attempting to free the boat from the obstruction. The boat began to +yield to her exertions, but Gerard came nearer and nearer. Just as she +had set the boat free his hands were on the gunwale of the boat, but +she raised the oar and brought it down smartly across his knuckles. With +a fresh curse he let go, and a moment later the boat was drifting +further and further from him. + +It is a dangerous passage, even for a skilled oarsman, through the Gorge +of the Grey River. In times of flood no man who laid claims to sanity +would attempt the feat; but, even when the river is low and flows +quietly if swiftly, there are rocks and snags that obstruct the passage. +To strike one of these would mean a total wreck. + +On either side of the river the masses of grey rock ascend steep and +slippery from the surface of the water. The stream is deep to the very +edges of the cliff, offering but little foothold to one who would climb +from the water to firm land. Here and there the caves break the even +surface of the rocks, and in yet other places great masses jut out in +fantastic shapes above the water. It is always dark and cool in the +Gorge, for the sun never penetrates there excepting in stray beams; a +pleasant place of a hot summer's day, with an expert oarsman and +coxswain to make a safe passage, but full of peril to a young girl alone +in a skiff. + +Kathleen O'Connor was, however, so glad to be freed from Gerard, not so +much because she feared physical violence as on account of the uncanny +influence he had over her, that she faced the passage of the Gorge +almost with equanimity. She recognised the danger, for more than one +narrow escape from drowning was chronicled in connection with the +place, and she crouched in the bow of the boat with an oar in her hand, +watching anxiously for rock and snags. Now and then she used the blade +of her oar as a paddle to prevent the boat from turning broadside to the +current. In this manner she was carried safely through the Gorge. + +Kathleen O'Connor's passage down the Grey is recorded as the first +occasion on which a woman accomplished the feat alone. Others have done +it since then from bravado and a desire for notoriety. Kathleen was +compelled to be the pioneer among women by fear. The following day she +had a paragraph to herself in both papers, and Grey Town was led to +believe that she had made the passage merely from a love of adventure. +This story was never contradicted, but, like many other tales of +adventure, it is untrue. + +At last she found herself safe in the wider expanse of water below the +Gorge, an object of interest and admiration to the fishers and boating +men who frequent that part of the Grey. Of them Kathleen took little +notice. She scrambled back to the sculler's seat, and after a short pull +found herself beside the boat shed. + +Tomkins, who kept the boat shed, was smoking his pipe on the landing +stage when Kathleen drifted out from the Gorge. Shading his eyes with a +big, rough hand, he stood watching her in amazement. + +"It's Miss O'Connor," he muttered to a man beside him, "and she's come +through alone. She's the last woman I'd have expected to do such a +thing!" + +"You never can tell what a woman will do these times. We'll be taking a +back seat in the kitchen before long," answered the other. + +"But Miss O'Connor's not that sort," said Tomkins. "What I can't make +out is this: I let that boat to Gerard. What's become of him?" + +As Kathleen stepped from the boat, Tomkins greeted her with applause, +seasoned with advice. + +"You've done something, miss, that no other woman ever did before. But +never you try it again. Next time you and the boat may come drifting +down, the one after the other." + +"I have no intention of trying the Gorge again," answered Kathleen. +"Thank God, I am safe!" + +As she was about to leave the shed, to make her amazement more complete, +Gerard rode up on her horse and reined in. His clothes were damp and +clung to him, but he disregarded that. "You have won your wager, Miss +O'Connor!" he cried; "but you went with your life in your hands." + +Kathleen was too much astounded by his audacity to reply. He dismounted +and lifted her into the saddle holding her rein for one short moment, +while he said in a low voice: + +"You have nothing more to fear from me. You have taught me a lesson, +and, by Jove! you are a well-plucked one." + +She did not pause to answer him, but, giving Douglas a cut with the +whip, rode away at a smart canter to "Layton." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +"THE FREELANCE." + + +Denis Quirk was a man of courage and energy. He had an almost heroic +disregard of public opinion; if those few whom he loved would give him +their faith, the rest of the world might praise or condemn him at will. +Had it not been that the future of "The Mercury" was imperilled by his +presence, and that Dr. Marsh was interested in the success of the paper, +he would have remained at Grey Town to fight on until the tide had +turned or want of funds compelled him to close down. As it was, he sold +his share to his father for no more than he had originally invested in +the paper, and went to Melbourne to start a weekly magazine, "The +Freelance." + +In this undertaking, he was able to ensure success by his own ability +and, perhaps to a still greater degree, by the assistance of Jackson and +O'Connor, who were at that time the leading advertising firm in +Melbourne. + +Prior to giving him support, Jackson stepped into Desmond O'Connor's +room to debate Denis Quirk's credentials with his junior. + +"See here, Desmond," he said, "you know more about Quirk than I. We were +together on "The Golden Eagle" at Fenton before he went to America, and +we have continued friends right down to to-day, but his ability is an +unknown quantity to me." + +Desmond O'Connor heard this remark with considerable interest. + +"Do you also know Gerard?" he asked. + +"Never heard the name." + +"Then I have to thank Denis Quirk for your interest in me?" + +Jackson had forgotten Denis Quirk's letter, with its request to keep the +latter's name a secret from Desmond. He answered readily: + +"Partly Quirk; but largely yourself. Quirk sent me to you and I liked +you. That was my reason for helping you in the beginning; later on you +helped yourself." + +"I have done Quirk an injustice, and now I can help him. Well he +deserves it. Quirk is a born journalist. He understands the public as no +other man does, and knows what to say to them and how to say it. This +paper of his is a certain success." + +"Then we will support him. Put the 'Freelance's' name down for a regular +column of advertisement," said Jackson. + +"I will slip round and see Quirk," suggested Desmond. + +Denis Quirk was in his office, busy in putting his ideas into effect +with a piece of foolscap in front of him, and the telephone receiver +close at hand. + +"Jackson and O'Connor re advertisement," he read on his list. + +"I may as well try them; probably they will say: 'Prove yourself, and +we will support you.'" + +He rang the bell, and had the receiver at his ear, when Desmond entered. + +"It is all right, Exchange," he cried. "I will ring up again. Hullo, +O'Connor! Glad to see you. I was just ringing the office up. Take a +seat." + +Desmond sat down. + +"Quirk," he said; "I owe you a good deal." + +"That old chatterbox, Jackson! Has he been bleating?" Denis asked. + +"Inadvertently he opened the bag, and out jumped the cat. You are a +little bit old-fashioned, Quirk. If every man hid his virtues as you do, +Jackson and O'Connor would be forced to close down. I have been +crediting Gerard with your balance in my gratitude ledger." + +"Gerard!" cried Denis. "What made you select him?" + +"He professed so much. If I had all Gerard promised me I would be a +multi-millionaire. But I am not ungrateful. Jackson and I can help you a +little; count on us!" + +"Thanks, Desmond. At present you are invaluable to me, as much because +of the weight you carry with the public as for the £ s. d. I don't think +you are making a mistake because I intend to succeed, and I haven't +drawn a blank yet." + +"Oh, you'll succeed, Quirk; that's a foregone conclusion.... Are you +looking for rooms?" Desmond asked. + +"At present I am staying at the 'Exchange,' but there's no privacy +there. Do you know of a quiet, respectable place?" + +"I can offer you a share in my flat in Collins Street," said Desmond. "I +have the best man in Melbourne, miles ahead of any woman ever born; a +self-respecting fellow, who expects good wages and earns them. He keeps +the flat in A1 order, cooks well enough to content even you----." + +"Hang it! I am not a gourmand," Denis Quirk interjected. + +"I am not accusing you of gluttony, my friend! I know from experience +you like your work well done, even if it happens to be the preparation +of an omelette on a Friday. I suppose you still hold to your old +prejudice against meat on a Friday?" asked Denis with a smile. + +"Undoubtedly! Not from any objection to meat, but as a mark of loyalty +and obedience," Denis replied. + +"I avoid it myself; merely from a health point of view. I have thrown +the old traditions and superstitions to the winds. I am a free man," +said Desmond. + +"Do you wear a hat in the street?" Denis asked laughingly; "and a coat; +or have you descended to the habits of your ancestors and eschewed +clothes on a hot day?" + +"No, my good man, and for an excellent reason. I have no desire to run +counter to the law," replied Desmond. + +"Precisely my reason for abstinence on Friday; but my law is a moral +one, and my justice of the peace that stern fellow, conscience. Don't +talk to me of traditions and superstitions. You, free men, are more +bound by superstitions than we who profess to be servants to a kindly +mistress.... I will share your flat and your wonderful man; and give you +the benefit of my beauty and my intelligent conversation on one +condition. We will swear a truce of God, neither shall run atilt at the +other's convictions until he is invited to do so. Is it an +understanding?" said Denis. + +"Agreed! Go your own way and leave me in peace," said Desmond. + +Thus did it come about that these two men shared the same flat and lived +on a hearty brotherly footing, although their views were diametrically +opposed. Around them they gathered a Bohemian band of companions, of all +creeds and every condition of life. Lawyers, doctors, actors, +journalists, and politicians; if they were decent, straight-living men, +with something to give in thought for that which they received, the +Bachelors' flat in Collins Street, as it was termed, was open to them +all. Denis Quirk lived strenuously as was his way, making "The +Freelance" a power in the land. He set himself to found a school of +journalists who wrote for the love of truth and scorned the mean and +paltry things of life. As with "The Mercury," Denis Quirk made his new +organ a censor of all that is contemptible. + +Desmond O'Connor, for his part, lived the parti-coloured life of other +men, business and pleasure in equal portions. Occasionally he assisted +Quirk with a black and white sketch for "The Freelance." He still +retained his old power as an artist, and Denis Quirk turned to him in +preference to the regular staff when he desired a particularly striking +sketch. + +"Just sit down, Desmond, and illustrate this article. The initials, D. +O'C., are always appreciated," he would say. + +"So I have every reason to believe. I am a genius and I know it. But +anything, even undesired artistic fame, to oblige you," Desmond would +answer. + +He had a heartfelt admiration for Denis Quirk, whose fate it was to win +the love or hate of those who knew him. None who came in contact with +him failed to appreciate the strength of his personality, and he threw +himself resolutely on the side of truth. Those who lived on injustice +and untruth would willingly have destroyed him because he exposed them +relentlessly to public odium; the honest and straightforward placed him +on a pedestal as a just man. "Good old Quirk" was a synonym for strength +and uprightness of life in those days. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +GREAT IS THE TRUTH. + + +"Bachelors' Flat," in Collins Street, was peculiarly silent. The +customary visitors paused in the hall downstairs and did not venture to +ascend to the third floor of the mansions. Merely a sympathetic message +to the caretaker, a few parting words of hope, or a shake of the head, +and they passed on into the busy world outside. + +In the flat itself men and women walked with quiet feet and spoke to one +another in whispers, saving in the darkened room where Desmond O'Connor +chattered unceasingly, and now shouted or laughed in the wildness of +delirium. A nurse was installed in his room, a quiet and gentle little +lady, never hurried yet never slow; always patient, with a coaxing +manner and a soft voice. When he was sensible Desmond called her the +Angel of Mercy; in his delirium he spoke to her always as Sylvia. Even +in his wildest ravings, when he muttered and shouted sentences he had +heard from the lips of others and never sullied his own lips with, he +was always respectful to her. + +Kathleen O'Connor and Molly Healy were with her as untrained auxiliaries +to take her place and implicitly follow her directions when sleep could +no longer be denied. To them she gave the highest praise in her power +when she remarked approvingly: + +"You should have been nurses, both of you." + +Denis Quirk had resigned his room to the nurses, and when he slept +stretched himself out on the couch in the dining-room. He was watching +anxiously for his friend's moment of softening when Desmond would need +and ask for a priest. By a special arrangement the Archbishop had +granted to Father Healy the permission to attend Desmond, if he desired +a confessor. Then, day or night, as soon as the telephone carried the +expected message, the parish priest of Grey Town was prepared to hasten +in a motor car to Melbourne. + +But the fever had gone on to the dread third week, where death crouches +beside the patient's sick bed, and Desmond had made no sign. The doctor +came and went frequently, having the brand of anxiety plainly printed on +his face; the nurse had curtailed her hours of sleep to the minimum of +possibility, and the message had not been sent. + +"Why will he not surrender?" sighed Kathleen O'Connor. "I have asked him +to see Father Healy, and he always answers, 'No.'" + +"The good God is just trying us," said Molly Healy. "He wishes to see +how far our faith will go. But I am hoping that mine will stretch a +little further yet; for it needs to be elastic in times like this." + +Denis Quirk came in from his work, a little older and more tired-looking +than he had been, but just as warm-hearted and humorous as when life +was moving like a well-oiled machine. + +"Any improvement?" he asked. + +Kathleen shook her head, while tears filled her eyes. + +"We are so weak and powerless," she said. + +"But brave of heart," he answered cheerfully. "Things are at their worst +just now, but there is always a glimmer of light in the East. Keep your +eyes that way and you will soon see the sun rising to send the shadows +and the black thoughts helter skelter back into the darkness.... May I +see him?" + +"I will ask nurse," said Kathleen. "She is the commander-in-chief." + +"Oh, you great-hearted women--angels of self-sacrifice," said Denis, +after she had left the room. "You make me feel such a mean and +contemptible worm." + +Molly laughed at this outburst. + +"Sure you are not so bad--for a man," she said. "The Lord gave you the +physical strength, and us poor women the moral virtues. You can't help +it that you were not made a woman. Just do your best to put up with +yourself." + +In a few minutes Kathleen returned. + +"Nurse says you may go in to him for five minutes. He is quiet and +sensible now," she said. + +Denis entered the sick room very quietly. It was darkened and cool; +about it there was the scent of fresh flowers brought daily from +Jackson's garden. The bed linen was scrupulously white, and the room +itself bare of furniture, but exceedingly tidy. Desmond O'Connor was +lying in a peaceful doze, low in the bed, in the prostration that had +followed a period of wild delirium. As Denis entered he opened his eyes +and smiled. + +"Is it you, Dad?" he asked. "I fancied you would come to me. I have been +a disgrace to you!" + +Denis did not answer, fearing to break the chain of thought that had +taken his friend back to his childish days. + +"A disgrace to you and to the O'Connors," Desmond continued. "Didn't you +tell me that in the dark days the O'Connors clung to the Faith; that +never a one of them ever fell away? Well, I have been the first; just +from pique, dad; pique and pride.... Why don't you speak to me?" + +Still did Denis refrain from answering him, and Desmond continued: + +"But I begin to see again. It was all darkness for a time ... after +Sylvia had left me hopeless.... Where is Sylvia?" + +He turned his head to search the room. + +The nurse, hearing the name by which he addressed her, entered the room, +and stood beside his bed. + +"Ah, there she is! Don't go away from me, Sylvia." + +"Only into the next room," she answered. + +"Yes, that will do.... Isn't she splendid, dad?... I intend to come +round, when I am well again, to make my peace with God, and live like an +O'Connor.... Why don't you send for a priest?" he asked, in an irritable +voice. + +"You shall have a priest!" cried Denis. + +But Desmond relapsed into a half sleep, broken by a rambling delirium, +like to a fragmentary nightmare. The word had been spoken, and when +Denis Quirk had called the nurse and left her in charge, he hastened to +the nearest telephone exchange and sent the long-delayed message to +Father Healy. In half an hour's time the big motor car from the Grey +Town garage was starting on the long journey to Melbourne. + +Through the evening and night the good priest sat silently beside the +chauffeur, but his lips were moving constantly, his fingers passing the +rosary beads as he prayed for the boy he loved. The chauffeur, who knew +him well, had never found the priest so self-absorbed. As a general +rule, Father Healy made the longest journey short; to-night he could +only pray silently. For he had seen Desmond grow up from infancy to +manhood, and had prepared him for the Sacraments. His downfall had been +a calamity; his return to the Faith would mean a triumph over the powers +of evil. Thus did the car rush through the night, its bright headlights +picking out the road in front of it; blackness around; the horn now +sounding its deep note as they dashed past a township, while Father +Healy was praying for the sick man in Melbourne. + +It was three o'clock in the morning when the car entered the sleeping +city, where darkness and quiet held possession. Here and there a light +shone from a window, telling its tale of sickness; now and again they +passed a night wanderer or policeman; but Melbourne lay in placid +sleep, reinvigorating itself for the busy day. + +In the flat Denis Quirk was sitting in an armchair anxiously expecting +the sound of the motor. His quick ears heard it as it came up Collins +Street, and he was at the door to admit Father Healy. + +"I suppose you are tired and hungry?" he asked. + +"Neither," the priest replied. "But my friend here has had a long drive. +He would appreciate a cup of tea--eh, Jack?" + +"No thank you, Father. I will take the car to the garage, and get to +bed," the chauffeur answered. Therewith he started post haste for the +garage and bed. + +"How is Desmond?" Father Healy asked anxiously. + +"At his very worst, the doctor tells me. If he comes through the next +few days there is hope; at present it might go either way," Desmond +answered. + +"Can I see him?" + +"I will ask the nurse," said Denis. "We do nothing without consulting +her. Sit down and eat while I find her. Ah! here is Miss O'Connor," he +added, as Kathleen entered the room. + +"Father, I am so pleased to see you," said Kathleen. "I have been +waiting so long for you, until at last I began to lose hope." + +"I have been as anxious as you," he answered. "Is the boy asleep?" + +"I will ask nurse," said Kathleen, and went quietly out of the room. + +Desmond had just awakened from a quiet sleep. He was fully conscious, +more so than he had been for many days. When Kathleen entered the nurse +stole over and looked at him. + +"Awake?" she asked, in a low voice. + +"Very much so," he answered. "All the queer things have gone, leaving me +at peace." + +"Father Healy is here," she said. + +"Did I send for him? I have a faint idea I did ... a sort of half dream +that the dad came to me and told me to see the Father," he answered. + +"Will you see him?" she asked. + +"Give me something to pull me together first. I am in a mortal dread," +he whispered. + +"Would you rather wait?" she asked. + +"No; it has to be gone through. Just a mouthful of nourishment; then +send him in!" + +In the quiet of the sick room priest and penitent conferred together in +whispers; Desmond O'Connor pouring the story of his fall and the +subsequent history resulting from it into the good Father's kindly ears. +And when it was completed there was a great joy in the two hearts and a +peace in Desmond's that had not been there for many years. + +"You are tired, my son," said Father Healy kindly. + +"Tired, but glad, Father. I have come out of the ocean of darkness and +doubt into the old harbour of peace and certainty." + +A few minutes after Father Healy had left him he was again sleeping as +peacefully as a child. The nurse, looking into his thin, pale face, +where black lines encircled the eyes, found a gentle smile on it. + +"Oh, these Catholics!" she said to herself; "what a satisfaction their +religion is to them! I believe he will come through now." + +Yet, strangely enough, although she was a good little woman, she did not +realise that there must be something superhuman in a religion that can +give perfect peace to the soul and increased strength to the body. + +In this manner began Desmond O'Connor's progress towards recovery. +Slowly the fever began to abate, leaving him prostrate and feeble after +the severe struggle he had maintained for weeks. During the first days +of convalescence he was so weak that death seemed preferable. But inch +by inch he fought his way back to health; until he was allowed to sit in +an armchair. After that his recovery was more rapid. + +As he became stronger Desmond found himself a prey to the most dreadful +spiritual desolation. The Faith that he had again found and accepted as +a great gift, with an outburst of thanksgiving, seemed to be withdrawn +from him. For days and days doubts and misgivings troubled him so that +he walked as a blind man, gropingly. And with the doubts there came a +myriad of evil thoughts to torment him. He could not read nor pray; he +had to cling blindly to Acts of Faith and resignation. + +It was fortunate for him in those days that Father Healy had left him +under the care of an old Jesuit Father. Day after day the old priest +visited him, and while he was with him Desmond was at peace. But no +sooner was the good Father out of the room than the blackness of +desolation closed around him. + +"Is this to go on for ever?" he asked the priest. + +"No, my son. You are weak in body and new to the Faith. You have +weakened yourself during the years of doubt. In a short time you will +find your feet again and walk confidently. Go frequently to the +Sacraments, and trust in God." + +Thus did it happen with Desmond. Slowly the doubts and difficulties left +him, so that he wondered that they had ever caused him uneasiness. But +daily in his Acts of Thanksgiving he praised his Divine Redeemer who had +lifted him from the valley of desolation to an absolute certainty of +Faith. + +This was the beginning of a new life to him. During his convalescence he +entered more deeply into his religion than he had ever done before. +Slowly its great beauty unfolded itself to him; he found it so wonderful +in its perfection, so satisfying that he marvelled at his previous +lukewarmness. It was just at this time that a visitor came to see him. + +Desmond was sitting up in an easy chair; the nurse had gone to another +patient while Father Healy and Molly were in Grey Town. Kathleen, having +made her brother comfortable, had slipped out for a short breath of air, +leaving Desmond in charge of Black, the incomparable man-servant. A ring +at the door bell, a vision of a beautiful face and a graceful figure +becomingly dressed, conquered Black. His orders were to admit no +visitors, but he was so fascinated by the apparition that he carried the +card in to Desmond, and a moment later Sylvia Custance was sitting +beside the sick man's chair. + +Desmond looked up as she entered to judge how the years had treated her. +Older and more mature, but otherwise unaltered, he decided as he took +her hand and shook it. + +"You poor man! How pale you are!" she cried. "I only returned home last +week to hear that you had been so desperately ill." + +"Home?" he asked, in a puzzled voice. + +"The only home I have ever known. I have been miserable since I left +it," she explained. + +"And Custance?" he questioned. + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"He is impossible," she said. "I have done my utmost for him, but at +last there came a time when I could not go on. We have separated." + +"With his consent?" he asked. + +"Custance cares for nothing now but that cursed drug. Oh, what a fool I +have been," she almost moaned. + +There came a painful silence, broken at last by her. + +"But now I intend to return to the old life and the old friends. I shall +forget the horror of what I have endured.... You will help me to +forget?" + +He was very weak and weary. As he watched her the old passion began to +return to him. But it so happened that he looked towards a picture given +him that very day by the old Jesuit Father. It was a simple painting of +the Sacred Heart, with no attempt at artistic beauty. That very day, +however, the old priest had spoken so eloquently of the mystery of love +portrayed by that poor picture that Desmond valued it better than if it +had been a treasure of art. + +"I have done with the old life," he said. + +"You fancy that now. But wait until you are strong and feel again the +joy of life," she said. "Then you will alter your mind." + +"Tell me about your trouble," he suggested. + +"No. Not that, please. It is bad enough to have lived it. It was pure +misery and hopelessness. I prefer to talk of anything but that." + +They were still talking when Kathleen returned. She concealed the dismay +and dread that she felt in finding Sylvia Custance with Desmond. She +feared the old influence that had so vitally helped to ruin her +brother's life and drive him from his Faith. At present he was weak in +body, and like an infant in religion. The slightest obstacle might turn +him again to his former state of doubt. At this critical stage Sylvia +Custance was a great danger. But it flashed into her mind that Desmond +must fight his own fight unaided. If he succumbed again it was not her +fault. She could only pray for him. + +That evening when she bade him good-night, he said to her: + +"I think I will go down to Grey Town to-morrow, Kath." + +"Are you strong enough?" she asked. + +"I don't want to see Sylvia Custance again. The old life must die, Kath. +It seems rather hard, but it must be done. Make all arrangements like a +dear girl." + +The next morning as they travelled towards Grey Town she recognised that +he had not slept well, but she made him comfortable with rugs and +cushions, and watched him drop into a quiet sleep. Denis Quirk, who had +insisted on accompanying them, brought them refreshments at every +possible opportunity and watched over them with untiring zeal. When they +arrived at Grey Town the "Layton" motor was waiting to carry them to the +Quirks' home. Here they found Mrs. Quirk, very enfeebled, but smiling a +glad welcome, and old Samuel Quirk, to greet them warmly. + +"It is like home to me," cried Kathleen, as she kissed the kindly, +withered old face. + +"And home it is, honey, when you are here; but it is a lonely home +without yourself and Denis," said Mrs. Quirk. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +THE BISHOP'S SOLUTION. + + +Denis Quirk, at Grey Town, threw away all thoughts of work, and laid +himself out to make the time pass pleasantly for Desmond and Kathleen +O'Connor. During his fortnight at "Layton" he was only in the town for +Mass on the two Sundays, and once when he paid a visit to Cairns at the +"Mercury" Office. That visit he curtailed to a brief fifteen minutes. + +When he entered the old office, to find everything as he had left +it--the old faces, the same order, even his own room arranged as it had +been in his day--he felt that he could not stay for any length of time. +This was home to him, and he an exile. + +"I had to see you," he said to Cairns, "but it breaks me up to visit the +old place." + +"It is waiting for you, Quirk, and we miss you every day. When are you +coming back?" the editor asked. + +"When I can thrust my innocence in the town's face--perhaps to-morrow, +possibly never," Denis answered. + +"Nonsense! The scandal is dead and buried. We never realised what you +were until you had left us. We want your initiative, Quirk." + +"It's very good of you to say that. Lord, how I miss you Cairns--you +and the old paper! The 'Freelance' is all right, but it never can be the +'Mercury.' And Grey Town, too! I love it for its very shortcomings," +Denis replied. + +He interviewed the staff, and parted after a few friendly words with +each. The remainder of his time in Grey Town was spent at "Layton" and +in the country around the town. His friends were invited to meet him at +dinner--Father Healy, Mr. Green, Dr. Marsh, and a few others. Not that +he feared to face the town, but because he could not bear to enter it as +a mere visitor; to stand, as it were, on one side, as an onlooker and +not as a worker. + +"You have done wonders, they tell me," he remarked to his father, "but I +feel that there is more to be accomplished, and my fingers are itching +to be doing it." + +"I am just keeping your seat on the Council warm for you. Say the word, +and it is yours," remarked Samuel Quirk. + +"When the word comes to me, I will send it along to you. Meanwhile, keep +firing at them, Dad. Grey Town is yawning and rubbing its eyes. The town +is beginning to realise what it is to be awake. In time it will be awake +and moving briskly." + +"I'll keep on pinching them, until they must be moving just to be quit +of my fingers," Samuel Quirk replied complacently. "By the time you are +back with us this town will be a young city." + +The time passed pleasantly and swiftly at "Layton." Every day brought +some new pleasure or excitement for the O'Connors, and Denis Quirk did +his utmost to make them forget the strain that they had just been +through. He proved that he could play as strenuously as he was +accustomed to work, and that he was still a young man in his mind. + +One morning Kathleen O'Connor attempted to thank him for his kindness. +They were in the garden, old Mrs. Quirk resting placidly in an +easy-chair under a large oak tree, Kathleen seated beside her, and the +two men sprawled out at full length on the lawn. Desmond lay far apart, +out of earshot, while Mrs. Quirk was fast asleep. + +"I don't know how to thank you----," Kathleen began. + +"There is no occasion to thank me. The gratitude is on my side, Miss +O'Connor. You have made my mother happy, as no one else could have done. +No payment or reward could represent what I owe you," he answered. + +"But I am a paid companion," she protested, half-laughingly. + +"Money cannot buy a friend, nor pay her for her friendship," he said. +"And please not to forget that I am enjoying myself as much as you are. +It seems to me that I have never been young until now. I went from +school into a hard world, and I have been battling with it ever since. +It is only now I realise that there is something else beyond work to +make the world pleasant. Until now it has been a case of fighting hard +and keeping myself straight by means of religion. Once I was tempted to +drift--that was after my trouble, over there in Golden Vale--but I was +fortunate enough to find an old friend, a Father, who put things before +me in their proper light." + +It was the first time he had spoken to her of the dark days in +Goldenvale. She had often wondered to herself as to how he had accepted +what must have been a terrible experience. Now that he had confided in +her, she wished to hear more. + +"A priest?" she asked him. + +"The Bishop. I wish you knew him." + +"I do," she answered. "We have a Bishop like that." + +"Then I must know him. Will you take me to him and introduce me?" + +"It is a long journey from Grey Town to Millerton," she answered +laughingly. + +"Nothing to a motor on a fine day and good roads. We will start early in +the morning, and be there for lunch, see your Bishop, and return here +for dinner. Desmond shall come--but what about the Mother?" + +Mrs. Quirk had awakened, and lay very quietly, with closed eyes, +listening to their conversation. She knew the Bishop well, for he came +to visit her whenever he chanced to be in Grey Town. His very name +brought a smile to her face, but she refused to place his Lordship +before his reverence the parish priest. + +"Never mind me," she said. "What is one day to me? But it may mean a +good deal to Denis--and still more to Desmond." + +They turned in surprise to look towards the spot where Desmond O'Connor +lay, apparently asleep. + +"To Desmond?" Kathleen asked, in a puzzled voice. + +"Sure, you don't know the boy as I do. He comes to me, and we talk +together, Desmond and I. The seed is working in the boy's soul--I am +thinking he will be a priest." + +"A priest!" cried Kathleen so clearly that Desmond rolled over lazily +and faced them. + +"What's that?" he asked. "You three look as if you were conspiring +together. No secrets are allowed in this establishment--excepting Mrs. +Quirk's and my own. Now, what is it, Kath.?" + +"We are going to see the Bishop to-morrow," said Denis. "I intend to put +his Lordship to a severe test. He shall be placed alongside my Bishop, +and judged in that comparison." + +"Six to four on his Lordship," said Desmond, still lazily. + +"Will you come?" Kathleen asked. + +"Of course I will. I have a spiritual conundrum of my own to be +answered, and no one can find the solution but he. Book a seat for me in +the car." + +"May we take Molly Healy?" Kathleen asked. + +"Who better? Molly Healy would make the longest road short and the +roughest one smooth. If we puncture or blow out, she will cause us to +forget the trials that pursue the tyres of a motor car." + +The following day, at nine o'clock, the big "Layton" car, resplendent in +a recent coat of paint, well shod, and perfectly equipped, started from +the house on the long journey to Millerton. Denis Quirk was at the +wheel, the chauffeur beside him. In the tonneau Molly Healy and Desmond +O'Connor kept up a crossfire of good-humoured raillery, while Kathleen +sat between them, smiling at their jests. It was a bright, sunny day, +with a gentle breeze blowing from the south; the roads were smooth, and +the motor throbbed along throwing the miles behind her, and the dust in +the faces of those whom they passed on their way. + +"A brief epitome of this Commonwealth," said Denis Quirk, with a wave of +his hand as they were running through a vast, untenanted domain, +protected on either side by rows of dark green pines. "Neglected +opportunities! Land that should be supporting one hundred families +wasted on one man." + +Again they were hurrying between cultivated farms and farm houses, +widely scattered, but sufficiently near to one another to represent +civilisation. Double-fronted wooden houses were dotted here and there, +single-storied, each with its wide verandah, a small garden, and +possibly a row of pine trees to guard them from the wind. Behind them +each had its row of wooden outbuildings, large haystacks, and sleek +cattle feeding on green meadow-land. + +"The proof of what we can do--given the one necessary thing, man. Lord! +how the Japs must gnash their teeth when they think of the prize out +here in the lone Pacific! When I am a politician----." + +"Why not now?" Desmond asked. "Go forth and preach your new crusade. You +can't begin too soon." + +"I object to his preaching it in a car. Motors were never made for +moralising. There's a feeling, in riding in a car, that makes a person +lazy and contented," cried Molly Healy. + +"Until something goes wrong with the car," suggested Desmond. +"Then----." + +"I have heard them in difficulties, and my ears are still tingling and +my conscience burning me for the language they used," said Molly Healy. + +"It's no use carrying other men's sins on your conscience. Haven't you +sufficient of your own?" asked Desmond. + +"That is between me and my confessor, Desmond. But if I don't carry +these men's crimes no one will trouble about them, for they don't seem +to think it a sin to swear at a motor, although they call the thing +'she.'" + +"That's why they abuse her--woman was the original cause of sin, and +still is, nine cases out of ten." + +"Shame on you! The world would have little virtue to be boasting of were +it not for us poor women." + +"And less of sin," Desmond replied, cynically. + +"Peace, children!" said Kathleen; "you spoil the scenery." + +The Bishop was at home--a handsome man, tall and erect, with a stern +face, yet one that was singularly sweet. + +"Well, my child," he asked Kathleen, "what can I do for you?" + +"Mr. Quirk wished to know you, my Lord," Kathleen answered, with a +smile. "I brought him from Grey Town to introduce him to you." + +"It is very kind of Mr. Quirk to come all this way to see me. Perhaps +you will lunch with me, now that you have come so far." + +"Oh! no, my Lord----," cried Kathleen. + +"Oh! yes, my child. You have something to say to me?" he asked Desmond. + +"It is private, my Lord--but it can wait," Desmond answered. + +"No; it must not wait. Come with me, and talk until luncheon is +prepared. I will send Father Geary to entertain your friends." + +In his study, a small room, where large books on Theology were ranged on +shelves round the walls, where a large silver crucifix stood on the +table, with the Bishop's breviary and writing materials beside it, he +bade Desmond sit down. Then he began to interrogate him shrewdly, but +kindly. + +"You wish to be a priest?" he asked. + +Desmond eyed the Bishop in profound surprise, and his Lordship +continued: + +"How do I guess? Eh? It is not great wisdom nor the black art that has +told me your secret. A friend wrote to me----." + +"Mrs. Quirk!" cried Desmond. + +The Bishop smiled, and his usually stern face relaxed, so that the lines +and wrinkles of care smoothed themselves out. + +"A friend," he answered, "who was interested in you, and anxious for +advice." + +"My Lord, I am quite uncertain. I can see which is the better, and which +the more difficult." + +"Make a retreat, my child; then come to me again." + +"Tell me it is impossible, my Lord!" cried Desmond. + +"Nothing is impossible. I was myself a man of the world like you, and, +when I found myself confronted with a vocation, I was for running away, +like you. But the grace of God constrained me by force." + +"I can save my soul in the world," said Desmond. + +"You may; probably you will. But there are other souls to save besides +your own. Make a retreat, my child----." + +"But I know what the result will be. There can be only the one answer." + +"Then a retreat is not needed, but it will do you good. The Bishop +commands you to make a retreat--at once!" + +After luncheon, a plain meal, seasoned with good stories and laughter, +they bade his Lordship a respectful good-bye. He stood at the door +watching them as the car slipped down the avenue. On his face was the +smile of one who has scored a triumph. Kathleen turned to Denis, and +asked: + +"What do you think of my Bishop?" + +"Equal in every respect to my own, and that represents the very summit +of virtue. But Desmond can tell you more of his Lordship than I. I met +him as a mere man; Desmond was privileged to a more intimate knowledge." + +Desmond smiled as he answered: + +"A wise counsellor and a kind Father. He administers unpleasant +medicine, flavoured with human kindness." + +"And will you be taking the Bishop's black draught?" asked Molly Healy. + +"I have not decided whether I shall swallow it or throw it away," he +answered evasively. + +But Molly Healy realised that Desmond O'Connor had decided. To her, this +represented the destruction of an ideal she had never hoped to realise; +but, as she wiped a few tears from her eyes that evening she remarked to +herself: + +"Life is made up of not getting what you want, Molly Healy. It is better +Desmond should become a priest than die a scallywag--and it will keep +him out of the way of that Sylvia Custance. God knows what is best for +every one of us." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +A LINK BROKEN. + + +Denis Quirk was back in Melbourne, in the "Bachelors' Flat," and working +relentlessly at the "Freelance." That intrepid little weekly had +shouldered its way into a prominent position in the literary world. It +stood for independence of thought, avoiding the humdrum of the beaten +track, offering its own ideas to the public, careless of passing crazes +and passions. + +It may be said of Denis Quirk in those days that his only pleasure was +in his work. He was lonely for Desmond O'Connor, now a student at Manly. +The flat was still frequented by the representatives of motley and +variegated talent, as in the old days. Jests were made, good stories +told, and songs sung by well-trained voices; but these were mere +acquaintances. Denis longed for the intimate companionship of the former +days. + +Jackson had invited him to his home in Brighton, but there he found +Sylvia Custance. She weaved her web to enslave Denis, interesting +herself in his career, asking him fairly intelligent questions, and +doing her utmost to persuade him that he was the most important person +in the world to her. Denis watched her as a scientist observes a +remarkable organism. Once, after a prolonged silence on his part, she +asked-- + +"What are you thinking about, if I may ask?" + +"I was thinking about you," he replied. + +She eyed him for one moment, as if uncertain how she should regard his +answer. "And what is your opinion about me?" she asked, after a pause. + +"One that I cannot properly express in every-day language. You are the +most versatile woman I have been privileged to know, and in some +respects one of the very cleverest." + +"That is great praise from you," she answered. + +"It is neither praise nor flattery; it is merely the truth. You are so +clever that I cannot understand you." + +Sylvia Custance imagined that she had at last won Denis Quirk's +admiration. Had she listened to him coldly dissecting her for the +benefit of one of her chosen bodyguard, she would have suffered a bitter +disillusionment. Denis was walking home with this admirer, a mere boy, +to whose unopened eyes Sylvia Custance was the ideal of women. + +"Did you ever see such another woman as Mrs. Custance?" the young man +asked, in his youthful enthusiasm. + +"No, thank God, I never did," Denis answered bluntly. + +This was a sudden and unexpected check to the boy's eloquence. He +regarded Denis frowningly. + +"If you intend----," he began. + +"You asked my opinion, and I have answered you. There is no need for +anger. I have a very high regard for good women. Mrs. Custance is not a +woman, merely a psychological problem to me. She cares for only one +person--herself, and that self she regards as a celestial body around +which all other lesser bodies should revolve. To attain this necessary +consummation she adopts a chameleon character, altering herself to suit +all who approach her. To you she is sweet, and inclined to gush; to me, +a woman whose interests are in the stern affairs of life; to another an +artist--something different to all men. She is so versatile that she has +no fixed character. She is neither good nor bad, frivolous nor earnest; +she assumes whatever she considers most suitable to the present moment. +But I annoy you?" + +"No, you don't. Not one bit. Mrs. Custance's character can bear your +satire. She is the sweetest and most kindly woman in the world." + +"To you she probably is. That sweetness is the music to which you are +expected to dance. I accuse her of no evil intention. She is far too +prudent to ever repeat her one mistake of falling in love with anyone +but herself. You may fall in love with her; she expects you to do that. +But you need expect no act of imprudence from her. She will lead you to +the very gates of love and close them gently in your face." + +The boy went away furiously angry with Denis, but in the months to come +he recognised that he had heard Sylvia Custance accurately analysed +during that unpleasant half-hour's walk with Denis Quirk. + +Denis watched the boy as he strode away towards his home, his figure +stiffly borne, the picture of indignant protest. For his own part, +Denis desired no further acquaintance with Sylvia Custance. He despised +her so much that the very thought of her was repulsive to his nature. +After that one visit he preferred to cultivate old Jackson in his office +in the city. + +Occasionally he made a flying visit to Grey Town to enjoy the +restfulness of "Layton," but he did not stay long even there. After a +week or ten days he would suddenly pack his Gladstone bag and return in +haste to Melbourne. His answer to his mother was always the same, when +she pleaded with him to stay a few days longer: + +"I must get back to work. There is nothing else worth living for." + +Denis Quirk was busy in his office, writing, revising, correcting +proofs, reading a celebrated work for review, criticising illustrations, +doing many things and several men's work at the one time. He had a +sub-editor, a very capable journalist, but he had the feeling, like +other great men, that no one could do his work but he, and in this he +was partly right. The telephone rang while he was thus engaged, and he +sprang up and seized the receiver. Grey Town was speaking. + +"Yes, Grey Town speaking. It is Kathleen O'Connor. Can you hear me?" + +"Distinctly," he answered. + +"Mrs. Quirk is seriously ill. She wants you." + +"I will be with you in seven hours. Will she last till then?" + +"Dr. Marsh thinks so; but please waste no time. Good-bye." + +He rang his bell, and the office messenger answered it with promptitude. +He had learned the lesson of haste when the master's bell rang. + +"Send Mr. Gillon to me, and order a motor to take me to Grey Town at +once. Ring up my flat, and ask my man to pack my valise," cried Denis. +"Tell the motor to call for it," he added. + +To the sub-editor he confided the work that still remained to be done. + +"I will take this with me," he said, picking up an important article, +"and read it on the journey. I will send it back in the motor." + +A quarter of an hour later he was being carried at full speed in a +twenty-horse power Fiat car towards Grey Town. + +"If you delay one moment; if you blow out, or even puncture, I will +never employ you again," he remarked to the chauffeur. + +"It's all luck," the driver answered, indignantly. + +"I prefer lucky men," Denis replied. "Now drive like the very deuce." + +Nursing his outraged dignity, the chauffeur sent the car at its topmost +speed on the long road to Grey Town. This was his lucky trip; stray +nails there were in plenty, also dangerous places, but the Fiat raced +through in six hours. Denis sat rigidly perusing and correcting the +article, determined not to think of grey sorrow at the other end. Once +he groaned to himself. + +"The last good thing in life, and I am to close it. But, there is +work--and the Church, thank God!" + +Then he made a further correction, folded the article, and placed it in +an envelope. This he confided to the chauffeur. + +"I like you," he remarked; "you can be as reckless as I when it is +necessary. I shall want a driver soon. Would you take the post?" + +"I prefer to be where I am," the man answered. "A driver can't be lucky +always." + +"He only needs to be lucky on occasions like this, when a mother is +waiting to say 'Good-bye' to a son." + +In six hours' time the car raced up the avenue at "Layton," to find +Samuel Quirk pacing the verandah while he awaited his son. Denis could +see the hand of bitter grief in the old man's bent figure, in the deep +lines on his face, and in the sunken eyes. After nearly fifty years' +companionship the prospect of losing his faithful wife struck Samuel +Quirk a titanic blow. + +Denis had never been outwardly demonstrative towards his father. Samuel +Quirk had not invited any sign of affection, and his son had not offered +it. But they loved and respected one another, for Samuel Quirk was the +type of man that Denis could best admire. He recognised honesty and +purity of intention in the old man; he knew that Samuel Quirk would +never intentionally injure another. These virtues appealed to him like +rich jewels hidden within a rough casket. To-day his heart went right +out to the pathetic figure of hopeless misery portrayed by his father. + +He sprang from the car and took his father's hand tenderly. + +"It's the will of God," he said. + +"Did I say it was not?" asked Samuel Quirk. "I knew it must come +soon--but that doesn't make it one bit easier!" + +"How is she?" Denis asked. + +"Slipping away--and calling out for you." + +Denis waited to hear no more. He ran up the stairs to his mother's room. +Here he found Father Healy, Molly, Kathleen, and the nurse who had been +with Desmond O'Connor. At his coming they left the room, whispering each +one a short welcome as they passed him. + +Mrs. Quirk turned her head, and her thin, white face broke into a sweet +smile. + +"Come to me, Denis. God is good to send you. Sure, I am blessed above +all women. Himself is with me, the Divine Redeemer, and His Blessed +Mother, and the angels. Father Healy has been praying over me, and now +you have come to say good-bye. Sit beside me, and take my hand. Don't be +crying. I am just passing to God. Don't forget to say a prayer for me." + +She paused in distress, while Denis took her hand, and sat on a chair, +the tears rolling down his cheek. After a few seconds she spoke again: + +"Don't be fretting because the world is hard, boy. All will come right, +and there's a good wife waiting you--one that will be true to you." + +"Don't be worrying yourself about me. I shall always land on my feet," +he answered. Then, after a pause, he added: "You have been perfect as a +mother and as a woman. There is nothing to regret on that score." + +"Many things undone, and many that might have been done better. But God +is good and merciful, boy. He doesn't expect too much." + +Thus they spoke together for ten minutes. Then Denis saw that she was +exhausted. He rose to call the nurse, but she held his hand for one +minute. + +"Promise me that you will marry Kathleen," she whispered. + +"I am already married," he answered. + +"You will be set free--I am sure of it. Promise me, Denis." + +"I promise to do that if it is ever possible." + +"God bless you and keep you. May the Sacred Heart prevent you from sin, +and Mary, the Mother of God, pray for you," she said, in a low, broken +voice. + +A few hours later the end came to her peacefully, and the soul of +"Granny" Quirk passed the narrow gate that leads from things seen to +those that are apprehended by faith. With a smile on her face she passed +the portal, confident in the mercy of Almighty God. + +After the funeral the question of Kathleen O'Connor's future came up for +discussion. After various solutions had been suggested by Father Healy, +Dr. Marsh, and Denis, old Samuel Quirk calmly settled the matter. + +"Kathleen will stay here, and keep the house for me," he said. "She will +be my daughter. What would I be doing all alone in this big house?" + +The few days that had elapsed since Mrs. Quirk's death had changed him +into a decrepit old man. He sat through the greater part of the day in +an easy-chair on the verandah, taking no interest in anything; just +gazing vacantly in front of him for hours at a time. Mental and bodily +strength seemed to have deserted him. From vigour he had passed suddenly +into senility. + +"Are you willing to stay with him?" Dr. Marsh asked Kathleen. "It means +acting as a nurse to an impatient old man." + +"I promised Mrs. Quirk that I would remain at "Layton" while he needed +me," she answered. + +"The burden may be a heavy one," said Father Healy. + +"I can bear it," she answered cheerfully. + +Denis Quirk waited until the other had gone. Then he went to Kathleen to +find her working among the flowers, filling the vases and placing them +in the positions where Mrs. Quirk had liked to see them. He sat watching +her silently, as he had been accustomed to do in the days of their first +acquaintance. Presently she turned towards him. + +"You remind me of the old Denis Quirk to-day--the one whom I resented," +she said. + +"I was summing you up in those days," he answered; "just wondering +whether you were genuine." + +"That was what I objected to," she answered. "I have never been +subjected to examination--I have not so much as examined myself too +critically--and the feeling is creepy." + +"You have been tried and acquitted," he laughed. "You leave the court +without a stain upon your character. Indeed, you have been promoted to +stand upon a pedestal, and receive the admiration of your fellows." + +"No, no! Not that, if you please," she cried. "Allow me to remain just a +woman. It is my best plea for leniency. I detest the idea of a pedestal. +Supposing I were found to have a flaw--I have a good many, I assure +you--everyone would see it. Let me hide myself in the crowd." + +"Only one person is permitted to admire you on the pedestal; the one who +has placed you there. In his eyes there is no flaw. But," he added, +hastily, "I may, at least, thank you for your kindness to my parents. +You are a good woman, and you need no higher praise. Take care of the +old man, and--good-bye." + +He took her hand and crushed it in his own. Then he turned abruptly on +his heel and left her. That night she fancied she could hear him pacing +the avenue restlessly, and in that fact she found security. The +following morning he was gone. + +"Where is Denis?" old Samuel Quirk asked her, in his half-sleepy way. + +"He has returned to his work. You should be a proud man, Mr. Quirk, for +I believe that Mrs. Quirk is a saint, and I am sure that Denis is a +hero." + +"He should be here in Grey Town," the old man grumbled. + +"He is in the best place--out there in Melbourne. He will return to Grey +Town when the time is ripe for him." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +A SICK CALL. + + +If there is one suburb in Melbourne where a man might be excused +depression and discontent it is that undesirable and dusty part called +Tottenham. On a hot night in the summer time Tottenham gasps in the +streets. In shirt sleeves and thin blouses, not infrequently in a still +scantier attire, men, women, and children sit on doorsteps and +pavements, or collect in the small parks and open spaces, seeking fresh +air. The language on such occasions is apt to be in keeping with the +weather, for the heat excites men's tempers, and leads to unpleasant +remarks and retorts that are still less courteous, until a brawl +frequently terminates the proceedings. The neighbouring hospitals +anticipate scalp wounds and bruises after a hot spell in Tottenham. + +It was on such a night that Father Desmond O'Connor, recently ordained, +and appointed curate to Father Quinlan, the parish priest of St. +Carthage's Church, went quietly and swiftly along Carrick Street in +answer to a sick call. He walked absorbed in thought, and heedless of +the groups of people whom he passed. + +Desmond O'Connor had fought a severe campaign, and had triumphed. In +Tottenham he lived a quiet and uneventful life, content to do his duty +conscientiously, and pass his leisure hours with his brother-priests +and in the society of his books. + +Father Desmond O'Connor was not perfect; he was a good, honest, +hard-working priest, one of that splendid army who are fighting the +Church's battles against human weakness in Australia. His brothers among +the clergy liked and respected him none the less because he was a +cheerful companion, not above an occasional joke. + +Father Desmond O'Connor was, in fact, meditating a practical joke as he +hurried on his sick call this hot summer's night. His eyes were +twinkling, and his lips occasionally relaxed into a smile as he +considered the details of this piece of drollery. Once he remarked to +himself, half-audibly: + +"I must confer with Father Gleeson. He would suggest the necessary +details." + +Thus did he go, smiling and occasionally laughing to himself as some +particularly amusing aspect of that which he was considering struck him. +So pleasant was his face that a man whom he met paused to ask the +direction to a certain street that he well knew. When Father O'Connor +had answered his question, the man asked him: + +"Are you a Roman Catholic priest?" + +"I am," Desmond answered. + +"You'll excuse me stopping you, sir, but you looked so happy and +pleasant that I thought I would like to speak to you. You remind me of a +young fellow I once met some years ago--Desmond O'Connor." + +Father O'Connor laughed aloud at the remark. + +"Supposing I were to tell you I was he, would you believe me?" he +asked. + +The stranger shook his head emphatically. + +"No, sir, I would not believe it, even from you. I had an argument with +young O'Connor, half-fun and half-earnest. He was an Agnostic, while I +profess to be a Christian of no denomination--just a Christian. You are +not he." + +"I am Desmond O'Connor, and your name, if my memory is correct, is +Laceby, a reporter for the 'News.' If you care to have a chat with me, +you will find me at St. Carthage's Presbytery, in Nixon Street." + +"But how did you happen----," Laceby began. + +"To change my views? A long story, which I will tell you if you call. +You must excuse me at present. I have to attend a sick call at St. +Luke's Hospital." + +They shook hands, and bade one another good-night. Laceby stood watching +Father O'Connor until he had disappeared round a corner. + +"A strange army, the priesthood," he said to himself. "Every race and +every rank of life--men who have always had a creed, and men who have +had none. Soldiers, sailors, men from trades and professions, drawn to +the Standard by an irresistible impulse that they term a vocation--but +fine fellows, every one of them." + +All the world knows St. Luke's Hospital, its Mother Superioress, and the +devoted nuns who labour for the sick poor. Within the wards many a great +healer has served an apprenticeship, and many a sorely-diseased man or +woman has been snatched from death. There is no charitable institution +in which the Catholics of Australia have more reason to take a +legitimate pride. Standing in Burgoyne-avenue, its brick walls tower +towards the sky, one storey above another, while beside it the small and +modest building, now the convent, remains to speak of small beginnings +that have been brought to a great success. + +Father O'Connor was met at the door by a Sister in the black habit of +the Order, a sweet-faced, gentle nun, smiling as kindly as the priest +himself. + +"Well, Sister Bernardine!" he cried. "What makes you always smile? One +would expect a serious face in a place like this." + +"A smile never made a sick man worse," she answered. "The Mother +Superioress would like to speak to you before you see Mrs. Clarence." + +"Certainly, Sister. I am never the worse for a word with Mother +Superioress. Where is she?" + +"In the convent expecting you. I think you should be as quick as you +can; the poor woman is seriously injured." + +The Mother Superioress beamed upon Father O'Connor. She had conceived a +great liking and respect for the young priest, for she recognised that +beneath his humour and high spirits was concealed a strong sense of +duty, akin to her own. + +"I shall not detain you, Father," she said. "This poor lady met with a +motor accident outside our doors, and was carried in here. She is too +sick to move, otherwise we would have sent her to a private hospital. +Dr. Broxham has just seen her, and holds out no hope of recover. But the +trouble is this: she is a Protestant, yet she has asked to see a +priest." + +"Does her husband consent?" Father O'Connor asked. + +"The poor man was killed," the Mother Superioress answered. "We have not +told her that. But she does not ask for him. She asks constantly for a +priest--and for Denis Quirk." + +"Denis Quirk?" cried the priest, "and her name is Clarence! Strange! +Have you sent for Denis Quirk?" + +"Who is he?" she asked. + +"You must surely know Denis Quirk, the editor of the 'Freelance.' Two +such important persons as you and he must have met." + +"Of course I know him. He is one of our best friends. But are you +certain it is he she wishes to see?" + +"I merely surmise, Mother. I will see her at once and ask her--the +Sister told me to lose no time." + +In the big surgical ward of the hospital, the bed surrounded by screens, +Father O'Connor found a woman, her face of an ashen colour, and +constantly contracted in pain. She lay very quietly and in silence save +when a faint groan spoke of a spasm of agony. Her voice had sunk to a +faint whisper, so that the priest was compelled to bend over and listen +to that which she desired to say. But, in a low voice, and disjointed +sentences, she confided her sins to Father O'Connor's ears, and was then +received into the Catholic Church. Before the priest left her she +asked: + +"May I see Mr. Denis Quirk?" + +"He shall be sent for at once," Father O'Connor answered. "Good-bye, and +God bless you. You are happy now?" + +"For the first time for many years. I only need Denis Quirk's +forgiveness before I die. Promise me I shall not see Mr. Clarence +again." + +"I promise that," Father O'Connor answered, whispering to himself: "May +the Lord have mercy on the poor man's soul, for he will need mercy." + +In half an hour Denis Quirk was shown to the sick woman's bedside. It is +not my purpose to say what passed between the dying wife and the husband +whom she had so grievously wronged. Denis Quirk readily forgave her the +evil she had done him, and with her he remained until she had passed the +portal of death, holding his hand in hers. Then he rose from his knees +and gazed into her face, and on it he saw a great joy and peace, that +had not rested there for many years. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +DENIS QUIRK'S HOMECOMING. + + +There is a large field beside the house at "Layton," sloping downwards +from the rise, on which the house stands, towards the road. It is +particularly green in spring and early summer, while scattered here and +there about it are giant gum-trees, left purposely for shade. Here Denis +Quirk gathered the employees of the "Mercury," their wives, children, +and relations, soon after his return to Grey Town. In the centre of the +field was a huge marquee, with a great table in it spread with +snow-white linen and adorned with flowers and coloured ribbon. The +silver, cutlery, and glass, together with a multitude of eatables and +tempting drinks, proclaimed that this was provided for hungry appetites +and for the thirsty. Waitresses in black dresses, with white aprons and +caps, flitted backwards and forwards, arranging the table; occasionally +an inquisitive child peeped in to view the arrangements, while now and +again Molly Healy or Kathleen O'Connor entered to confer with the +caterer. + +There were other marquees in the field, places of interest and curiosity +to the smaller guests. In one of these were sweets in abundance, to be +had for the asking. The young lady in charge was the kindest and most +obliging dispenser of sweets that any child had ever yet seen. She did +not ask, "How much?" nor did she expect payment in base metal. A "Thank +you" and a smile was sufficient to satisfy her. In another there was an +amusing man, whose purpose it was to make children, both young and grown +up, laugh. With him was a mysterious gentleman who performed the most +wonderful feats of magic, and two young ladies who sang and danced as +never young ladies had done before. + +Outside there were sports and cricket, the big "Layton" motor to ride +in, and the whole range of the field for romps and games. Finally, to +complete the day, there was to be a picture show after dark, with music +from the Grey Town Band to add greater enjoyment. Was it to be wondered +at if children and adults vowed that this was a picnic complete to the +smallest detail? + +Denis Quirk had arranged the entertainment to celebrate his return to +the "Mercury" Office. He had begun on a very small scale, his intention +being to limit the pleasure to those immediately interested in the +paper. But the invitations had spread from one to another, from the +staff to their relations, then to their friends, and finally to their +friends' friends. + +"Let them all come," cried Denis Quirk. "If the thing is to be done, the +more who find pleasure in it the better. Every child in Grey Town who +cares to and can squeeze in, is welcome." + +He had returned to the town without fuss or excitement, and had strolled +into the "Mercury" office as if he had never been absent from it. Cairns +had rushed to welcome him, a broad smile on his face, and a suspicious +dimness, about the eyes. + +"Upon my word, Quirk, I am glad to see you," he cried. + +Then he turned away for an instant. + +"I never knew I was an emotional man before, but it makes my eyes wet to +see you," he explained, as he blew his nose violently, and gripped Denis +Quirk's hand. "You swear not to leave us again?" he asked. + +"Not until I am called for, Cairns. Upon my life, Cairns, I never knew +how much I loved you until to-day," Denis answered. He wrung Cairns' +hand until the editor winced. Then he went in haste to interview the +staff. + +"Tim O'Neill!" he cried, meeting that youth outside the editor's office, +"how far up the ladder have you climbed?" + +"Senior reporter, sir. Glad to see you back, Mr. Quirk." + +"Thank you, Tim. I suppose you will be leaving us soon, now that you are +famous?" + +"Not unless you tell me to go, sir. I am quite happy here--plenty of +work, and, now you are back," Tim asked wistfully, "there will be some +fighting to do?" + +"You are a worthy descendant of a fighting race, Imp. Is there anything +perfect in Grey Town?" + +"No, sir, nothing quite perfect--excepting Miss O'Connor," Tim answered +with a blush. + +"Nothing perfect! Then we must fight. Take down your blackthorn, Tim, +and get your muscle up." + +In this manner he passed from one to another, and the "Mercury" staff +was one broad smile of joy and satisfaction, for they all loved the big, +ugly man. + +A week after his return the picnic was arranged. Kathleen O'Connor and +Molly Healy had charge of the minutiæ, while Denis ordered the big +things, and opened his purse to its widest extent. + +"They shall remember this, every one of them, right down to the babies +in arms," he said. "They welcomed me when I returned; it is for me to +show my gratitude." + +At one o'clock the adults assembled for dinner in the large marquee. Old +Samuel Quirk was wheeled in in an invalid chair, but, though he smiled +urbanely on the company, he did not gather the significance of the +proceedings, for he was now as much an infant as the head compositor's +youngest baby. Father Healy came to bless the proceedings, and Dr. Marsh +to stand by in case of sickness. After the dinner Cairns rose to his +feet, to the sound of loud applause. + +"Reverend Father, ladies and gentlemen," he began; "I want you to drink +the health of the finest man in Grey Town. Mr. Quirk went away against +our wish, and he has not come back a minute too soon. We needed him all +the time he was in Melbourne. The 'Mercury' missed his power of +organisation, his splendid gift of pugnacity. The old gang has been +broken up, but there are a few of the same type prowling about. See that +your gun is loaded and cocked, Quirk; there is plenty of shooting to be +done in this town yet." + +"Ebenezer?" Denis Quirk asked, with a broad grin. + +"Ebenezer is crippled, but a few of the same species remain with us," +replied Cairns. "We will put you back into the Council, and send you to +Parliament if you like." + +At this there was loud applause, while from the distance could be heard +the sound of a baby squalling. + +Before Cairns could continue his speech Molly Healy appeared at the door +and cried out to Mrs. Crawford, the baby's mother: + +"You will have to come to him yourself. Sure, I fancy he must have +swallowed a pin, and it is scratching his inside." + +Mrs. Crawford sprang from her seat and hurried to the succour of her +offspring, while Molly remarked to Cairns: + +"No wonder the child is scared, with you shouting so loud." + +Thereupon she whisked out of the marquee. + +"We want a few of your stamp in Parliament," continued the orator. "So, +whenever you pass the word, we will be up to put you into Parliament. +Meanwhile, here is your good health, Quirk, and we are glad to have you +with us." + +Men, women, and children shouted themselves hoarse as Cairns sat down, +and Denis Quirk rose to his feet. + +"Not yet, Cairns," he said. "I don't intend to leave the 'Mercury' just +now, when I am realising all she is to me. The sound of her heart, as +she turns out the news of the world, is music to me. I love to sit at +work with my coat off and sleeves rolled up, preparing a daily +stimulant for Grey Town. But when Grey Town is braced up, if you still +need a man who will make your interests his, and battle for you in +Parliament, just call on me. I am glad to be with you again. There is +not one man in the office that is not dear to me--I love even his wife +and children. Dr. Marsh and I have been consulting as to the future +management of the paper, turning over, at the same time, the great +social problem. Now, we offer you a partnership in the profits of the +paper. Dr. Marsh and I will take one-third of the sum, and divide +two-thirds between you, on a graduated scale, to be decided in +conference. Mr. Cairns will, of course, receive the largest share, and +from him, down to the printers' devil, you will all be partners. How +does that suit you?" + +A shout of applause showed that his proposal was satisfactory to the +whole staff. + +"Then an agreement shall be drawn up between us, but we rely upon you +all to work hard and prove your appreciation of the offer. This scheme +is an attempt to find a solution to the labour problem. You all realise +that fact? Dr. Marsh and I have purchased the machinery; we have +initiated the enterprise, and we are not prepared to divide our property +among you; we are merely trying to pay you on an equitable basis. This +is to be a partnership of profits, not of the stock. I wish you all to +understand that. I now ask you, if you approve, to hold up your hands." + +Every man, woman, and child signified their acceptance. + +"Thank you. I hope it will prove a success, and that we shall never +regret our new departure. I have only a few more words to say to you at +present. Mr. Cairns tells me that you are loyal, every one of you. That +is what I ask of you--loyalty to your own interests. Put your best work +into the paper, and remember that the 'Mercury' is the production of +every member of the staff. Thank you again for your welcome; you have +made me realise that the 'Mercury' is home, the staff a happy and united +family, to whom I am a father." + +He spoke simply, in a straightforward, manly style, that went to their +hearts. When he sat down they continued to applaud for several minutes +before filing out to view the pictures. + +"Denis Quirk is white," a compositor remarked emphatically to Tim +O'Neill. + +"White!" replied Tim. "He is snow-white. He is the biggest and the +whitest thing in Grey Town--outside Miss O'Connor." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +A PROPOSAL. + + +"Where shall I put the old gown?" sighed Molly Healy as she surveyed a +trunk already packed to overflowing. "I took it out to make place for +the shoes, and now I must take out the shawl to make place for it. I am +tired of taking out and putting in again." + +Therewith she seated herself despairingly on a chair and eyed the trunk +in disgust. Kathleen O'Connor regarded her with a smile of amusement. + +"May I see what I can do?" she asked. + +"I am beyond refusing you anything, Kathleen. I have that trunk on my +brain, and it's worse than water in the same place. Mrs. Gorman kept +poking her nose in and telling me: 'I had no method' until I slammed the +door in her face and locked it. Then the Father and Dr. Marsh began to +look in on me through the window, telling me I was overlooked when the +gift of tidiness was being distributed. But I have sent them on a dying +message to Pat Collins, who is not sick. Dan, too, must come along and +ask me why I was swearing? There is only one good angel in Grey Town, +and you are that one, Kathleen O'Connor." + +Kathleen began to remove the contents of the trunk, loosely rolled up +and thrown in after a harum-scarum fashion. + +"What will you do at St. Luke's?" she asked. + +"I am going there to mortify the flesh. Nursing I love, but to be tidy +is a penance to me." + +"Make a big effort," suggested Kathleen. + +"I wonder could I? I wouldn't enjoy a tidy room one bit. I would not so +much as dare to brush my hair for fear of disturbing the arrangements." + +"The Mother Superioress insists upon her nurses' appearance being spick +and span," said Kathleen. + +"For two ha'pence I would not go there, but ever since I cared for poor +Joe Mulcahy I have wished to be a nurse. Well, heaven help me and send +me the virtue of order." + +Kathleen had managed by rearrangement of the contents to find a place in +the trunk for the rebellious gown. She closed the trunk and tied the +straps. + +"I shall miss you every moment of the day," she sighed. + +"Why not come with me and keep my room tidy? Now that Denis Quirk is +home you have no call to be spending your life slaving for the old man." + +A hammering at the door prevented Kathleen O'Connor from replying. + +"What do you want with me?" cried Molly. + +"A gentleman would be asking to see you--Mr. Cairns," Mrs. Gorman +answered from the passage. + +"Now, what would he be wanting with me?" asked Molly. "Tell him I am +coming," she cried. "Am I tidy, Kathleen?" + +"Of course you are," replied Kathleen. "I will put the smaller things +in your bag for you while you entertain him." + +Molly found Cairns waiting for her in the passage. Always punctilious in +his dress to-day he was exceptionally spruce, his tie very new, and +clothes without one crease. + +"Come into the garden, Molly," he said, and there was an unaccustomed +nervousness in his voice that caused Molly to ask: + +"Are you not well, Mr. Cairns?" + +"Oh, yes--perfectly well," he answered. "Why do you ask?" + +"You look pale, and there is a kind of a quiver in your voice," she +answered as they strolled to a seat in the garden that overlooked the +town, a favourite place for Father Healy when saying his Office. + +"Sit down and rest yourself," Molly advised. "You get no peace down +there in the office. Denis Quirk believes you are all machinery like +himself." + +But Cairns remained standing behind the seat on which she sat. After a +short silence Molly Healy asked: + +"Now, what are you doing to my hair? Do be leaving it alone; it is +untidy enough already." + +"Molly," he said, and his voice caused her to turn suddenly. + +"I knew you were ill," she said. "It's the rest cure that would be doing +you good. Denis Quirk has overworked you." + +"Try to be serious for once," he asked. + +"Serious? There is no need for me to be serious. Your face is solemn +enough for the whole town. Just let my hair alone. There it was just put +up in a hurry and you have pulled it down." + +Molly had glorious brown hair, her one real beauty, and she rose with it +falling in waves to her waist. + +"If you only knew the work it is to build it up you would be down on +your knees begging forgiveness of me," she cried. + +"If you only knew that," he began, and ended with a mumbled "that I love +you?" + +Molly Healy dropped her hair and gazed at him in absolute surprise. + +"Did you come all this way to joke with me?" she asked. + +"Please take me seriously for once," said Cairns. "I don't want you to +go away from Grey Town if I can keep you here." + +Molly had fixed her hair up in haste. It formed a great tower on her +head, for she needed time to arrange it in order. Slowly dawning +surprise crept into her eyes as he spoke, surprise with perhaps a not +unnatural triumph. + +"I really believe you are in earnest," she said; "but I can't understand +it. They call me 'plain Molly Healy,' and I believe it from what the +glass tells me." + +"In my eyes you are beautiful," he replied. + +"No blarney, if you please," she said. "I don't love you, and that is a +fact, Mr. Cairns. But I will think of you--and perhaps--that is, if you +don't find someone else in the meantime--when I come back----." + +"How soon will that be?" he asked. + +"A matter of three years." + +"Three years!" he groaned; "an eternity to wait. I will give you three +months to think about it; then I will come to Melbourne and ask again." + +"And what will Mother Superioress say to me with a young man?" + +"Oh, blow--I mean, never mind the Mother Superioress. Quirk tells me she +is delightfully human, and as sympathetic as you are," replied Cairns. + +"Sympathetic? Sure, you must be in love to believe that of me. I am as +hard as flint. But come if you like, and bring me a big box of +chocolates. Will you now?" + +"I intend to bring a ring with me. What stones do you like best?" + +"Emeralds, to be sure, and diamonds. But don't be spending your money +until you are sure of me. I may be taking the veil myself." + +"If you do I shall destroy myself," said Cairns. + +"Would you do that for me?" she cried eagerly. "How would you do it?" + +"Oh, poison, or possibly a razor. But there will be no need for that." + +"And do you really love me--me, Molly Healy? I don't understand it. I am +plain and untidy, with never an accomplishment to my name. If I had +money I could see a reason for it. Why do you love me?" she asked. + +"Because you are Molly Healy, cheerful, light-hearted and kind," he +answered. + +"I intend to think of you all night and every night. I can't think of +you and be neglecting the day's work. But, perhaps, after three months, +I may be willing to consider the ring. Now be off with you, for I am +busy. You may kiss my hand, and here is a rose for you. Good-bye, Mr. +Cairns, for three months. Sure, I will miss you." + +To Kathleen O'Connor Molly confided Cairns' proposal. + +"I don't understand it," she sighed. "If it had been you, Kathleen, I +would not have wondered, for you are as beautiful as I am plain. But +what made the man be wanting me? I have nothing beyond my hair, and who +would be marrying a girl for her hair?" + +"If I were a man I would marry no other woman but Molly Healy. Plain! +Why, you are lovely, and you have a heart of gold, Molly," Kathleen +answered. + +"Mr. Cairns could not see my heart; it is what a man sees that he loves. +But I am perplexed what to do. I like Mr. Cairns, and he is an honest +gentleman, not like Gerard, all on the surface. But I don't fancy I love +him. What does it feel like to be in love, Kathleen?" + +Kathleen blushed scarlet at the question. + +"There is a real love and a false one," she said. "The false sort loves +a man, not for what he is, but for what he is imagined to be. The real +love comes from recognising that a man is noble and brave." + +Molly pondered a while over this. + +"Mr. Cairns is not young, and he is not beautiful," she soliloquised, +"but he is honest and brave, just a gentleman. Perhaps I might come to +love him in time." + +"Shall I prophesy?" Kathleen asked. + +"If it would be any help to you or to me, I would not be the one to stop +you." + +"Then I see you, in six months time, Mrs. Cairns," Kathleen answered. + +"I wish it had been O'Brien, or Fitzgerald, even O'Connor, but Desmond +has chosen the better way," said Molly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +GOOD AND EVIL. + + +It was evening again at "Layton." The moon was shining down on Kathleen +O'Connor as it shone on her that night when Gerard walked beside and +tempted her. She was pacing the shadowed avenue with Denis Quirk beside +her. Their voices were low, mere faint murmurs to Father Desmond +O'Connor, who sat on the verandah beside old Samuel Quirk and spoke an +occasional word to the old man. + +There was stillness in the garden, bright moonlight and dark shadows. +Overhead the heavens were glittering with a myriad stars. Well might +Kathleen's thoughts revert to that other night when danger paced beside +her. This night she had no dread, for Denis Quirk had been tried and +tempered by the furnace of suffering. Nevertheless, the girl's heart was +beating more rapidly than usual, because she recognised that this night +marked an epoch in her existence. + +For three months since his wife's death Denis Quirk had abstained from +asking that which was constantly in his mind. This he did, not because +he felt himself bound by a specious loyalty to a false wife, but that +Kathleen O'Connor might become accustomed to him in his new position. He +would not hurry nor attempt to constrain her; he preferred to give her +time to consider him as one permitted to woo her honourably. He became +more attentive, more openly anxious to give the girl whatever she +desired, more courteous in speech and action; but he refrained from +asking the inevitable question. + +As they walked side by side Kathleen had the feeling that Mrs. Quirk was +close to them. She could almost hear the voice calling "Kathleen" from +the drawing-room upstairs, but this night there was no note of warning +in the voice. She knew that "Granny" Quirk had looked forward to a union +between herself and Denis as the consummation of earthly happiness. She +believed that even in her present state of bliss her old friend would +rejoice in that union. + +Denis Quirk softened his voice to a tender key that is not customary. As +a general rule he spoke in the tone of command or in a blunt, off-hand +manner. To-night he had chosen the note of entreaty. + +"Kathleen" (he rested tenderly upon the word) "I have longed for you +many a day. Sometimes I have been torn by a tempest of passionate +desire. But I have always respected you, and that respect restrained me. +But if you had known the devouring furnace that has burned in me day and +night you would have pitied me. I was compelled to hold myself always in +hand, to avoid even an unguarded word or look, because I wished to walk +with honour beside me. Now I am free to speak all that is in my heart, +and that all is 'I love you and I desire you above all women.'" + +Kathleen did not answer at once. She was moved by the passion in his +voice; she had come to love him, but she was afraid. + +"I am frightened," she said in a low voice. + +"Frightened of me?" he asked. "Why, I will protect you against the whole +world. There is no place for fear." + +"You are asking me to give you myself, and if I give, I must give +unreservedly." + +"Take any time you like to consider it. I can wait," he answered gently. + +"No. I don't ask any longer time than a few minutes. Leave me alone for +ten minutes; then come to me." + +Without another word he returned to the verandah and seated himself +beside Father O'Connor, lighting his pipe and blowing thick volumes of +blue smoke into the evening air. + +Kathleen paced on alone. But suddenly the shrubs beside the avenue +parted and Gerard came out quietly. So softly did he step that he was +beside her before she recognised the fact. Then she shrank away from him +in terror. + +"Kathleen," he said, "I've tried to forget you, but I can't. I came here +to-night to ask you to come with me; I heard that cursed Quirk speaking +to you. What can you care for an ugly brute like that?" + +"He is as far above you," she said, "as that star is above the world. +How dare you even mention his name?" + +He paid no attention to her remark. + +"I don't come to ask you to share poverty. I offer you a good name and +a fortune," he said. "My father is dead and I am heir to great estates +and a time-honoured name." + +"If you offered me the world I would refuse it," she answered. + +"You loved me once----." + +"Never. That was mere imagination on my part, not real honest love," she +cried. "Go, at once, before Mr. Quirk returns." + +"No, I shall stay," he replied. + +"Then take the consequences." + +Denis Quirk's step was to be heard crunching the gravel as he came. When +he was near them Kathleen hurried to him. + +Denis increased his pace until he came to where Gerard stood. + +"I warned you not to come near this house," he said. + +"The moth comes to the candle. Your warning was useless," said Gerard. +"Night after night I have walked this avenue with Kathleen O'Connor. Now +she is tired of me." + +"Liar," cried Denis Quirk. + +"Abuse cannot alter what I say." + +"Put up your hands and defend yourself. I hate to strike a defenceless +man," said Denis, moved to fury. + +"Do you fancy I am afraid of you?" Gerard asked tauntingly. + +"Then take it," cried Denis Quirk, and his fist flew out suddenly, beat +down Gerard's guard, and stretched him on the gravel path. + +"You have killed him," cried Kathleen in sudden terror. + +"Not I. Such men as this never die." + +Denis stooped and examined the prostrate man. + +"He will live to lie again," he said. "I know him for a liar. Night +after night I have followed you, not because I distrusted you, but I +have seen him lurking about and I feared danger." + +She came to him with outstretched hands and hid herself in the big man's +arms. They went side by side up the long avenue, and their steps seemed +to march to a triumphant anthem. + + + + +POST SCRIPTUM. + + +Grey Town after many years, and Grey Town in the early summer, when the +farmers were congratulating themselves on fat factory cheques. But a +changed Grey Town, for prosperity had transformed the town. It was no +longer merely a country centre for a pastoral and agricultural district, +but a busy industrial town, where the manufacturing interests were as +important as the farming interests; where every morning a stream of +workers flowed from the outside suburbs into the town; where there was +bustle and noise and confusion; where money circulated freely; where men +grew rich and proud in the power of their money bags. A happier Grey +Town? Perhaps not quite so contented as the lazy, easy-going, and +self-satisfied Grey Town, as Denis Quirk had found it, for here +comparative poverty stood side by side with riches, and suffered in the +contrast. + +Prosperity had come to the town on sound lines, thanks to Denis Quirk. +He had provided that riches should not be accumulated in Grey Town at +the expense of suffering and discomfort to the poor. It was thanks to +him, so the Grey Towners said, that the factory area was separated from +the residential portion of the town. They also hinted in Grey Town that +he was largely responsible for the Government Bill, compelling +landlords to provide their tenants with sufficient space for a garden +and yard of greater extent than one might swing a cat in. There were +others in it, Grey Town acknowledged that; but their Member, their Denis +Quirk, was the prime mover. + +He was rich now, and happy, but I may safely say that no poor man paused +beside his gate to hurl a curse at the oppressor of the unfortunate. He +still had enemies--his determined and combative nature made that +unavoidable--but his enemies were of those who had been prevented from +exploiting the poor by his agency. These termed him an enemy to +progress, their notions of progress being summed up in self-progress. +And they vowed that "that demagogue Quirk" should go out when the +country recovered its mental equilibrium, lost for the time in an absurd +humanitarianism. He was in his garden, sitting on a garden seat, with a +book in his hand, but work had been declared an insult by the two rosy +rogues, a boy and a girl, by the way, who had escaped from Nurse, now +vainly seeking them in the house. Kathleen was beside her husband, +watching in an amused manner the subservience of the master of men to +the children. + +Kathleen, the elder, was a copy of her mother; Denis, the boy, promised +to be as good as his father; singly, they were powerful; united, as +to-day, they were irresistible. And they had decided that "Daddy" must +play a game with them, and the game should be hide and seek. + +"Hide 'oo eyes and count," said Kathleen, junior, in a compelling voice. + +"But Daddy wants to read," expostulated Mother, in a tone of entreaty. + +"Daddy mustn't read to-day. It's Denny's birfday. Daddies don't read on +their little boys' birfdays, does they, Denny?" + +"No," replied Denny, in a voice of conviction. + +"What do Daddies do under such circumstances?" asked Denis, senior, in +an amused tone of voice. + +"What their little girls wants them to do, doesn't them, Denny?" + +"'Es," answered Denny, seeing no reason to controvert this reasoning. + +"But it's not your birthday, Kath," suggested Mother. + +"It's Denny's, and Denny gave it to me, 'cos I told him I wouldn't kiss +him if he didn't." + +Here the peculiar injustice of this proceeding suddenly struck Denny, +and he began to cry, not in a quiet and subdued manner, as a respectable +boy would, but in a stentorian roar. + +It was at this moment that Molly Healy came up the avenue, and she +rushed at and snatched Denny up in her arms. + +"Were they cruel to my boy on his birthday? Never mind. Molly's brought +you something nice," she cried. + +"Now, be under no misapprehensions, Miss Molly Healy. Neither Kathleen +nor I have done anything to deserve that scornful look. If you must +scold anyone, there is the culprit. Kath. has swindled Denny out of his +birthday." + +Kath. had noted the result of Denny's roaring, and she argued that +similar conduct on her part would meet with similar treatment. +Therefore, she took up the strain of loud weeping, from which Molly had +interrupted her brother. + +"Something for you, too, Kath.," cried the kind-hearted and impulsive +Molly, handing Kath. a parcel similar to that which the boy was hugging +in his arms. Straightway Kath. ceased from tears, and consented, when +Nurse appeared, to accompany her indoors and there investigate the +contents. + +"I've done it at last!" said Molly, when she had ceased from bestowing +kisses on the children, greatly to Nurse's indignation, and had +permitted them to be led away. + +"You don't mean to tell me!" cried Kathleen, springing up impulsively +and kissing Molly. + +"Done what? Murder, suicide, or the Confiding Public?" asked Denis. + +"Oh! you old stupid. You never understand," cried Kathleen. + +"I claim to understand the English language when it is openly expressed. +But I lay no claim to a knowledge of female wireless telegraphy. Miss +Molly tells you, in the tone of one who confesses a crime, that she has +'done it at last.' If she will explain, I may possibly be able to change +the sentence from murder to justifiable homicide." + +Kathleen went to him and whispered in his ear. + +He rose, and grasped Molly's hand so firmly that she winced under his +pressure. + +"And why was this not done years ago?" he asked. "Why keep an +unfortunate poor man constantly on the verge of suicide?" + +"I was getting over Desmond," replied Molly! "It takes a girl a long +time to recover from a heart affection, and I was trying him to learn if +he was constant." + +"Well, better late than never. I wish you and Cairns joy. Have you +mastered housekeeping yet?" + +"There you are!" cried Molly triumphantly. "How should I marry and never +know how to look after the man's house? But I am getting on now, and I +don't expect to be much better this side of the grave, so when he came +with his monthly 'Will you?' I just dropped into his arms, and that +ended it." + +"And what did Cairns do under those distressing circumstances?" + +"He didn't know exactly what to do until I told him. Then he did it +fairly well for an amateur." + +"And when do you intend to be married?" asked Kathleen. + +"Next week, to be sure," answered Molly without hesitation. + +"Impossible! It would be an outrage on the conventialities," cried +Denis. + +"And haven't I been outraging them ever since I came to Grey Town? If +they expect anything ordinary of Molly Healy, they won't get what they +expect. Next week will be Easter, and Desmond here to marry us, and next +week will see Molly Healy Molly Cairns." + + +[Illustration: THE END] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Grey Town, by Gerald Baldwin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREY TOWN *** + +***** This file should be named 26034-8.txt or 26034-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/0/3/26034/ + +Produced by Nick Wall, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Baldwin. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + hr.smler { width: 10%; } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + text-indent: 0px; + } /* page numbers */ + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .right {text-align: right;} + .tbrk { margin-top: 2.75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em;} + + .mono {font-family: monospace;} + + /* index */ + + div.index ul { list-style: none; } + div.index ul li span.mono {font-family: monospace;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Grey Town, by Gerald Baldwin + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Grey Town + An Australian Story + +Author: Gerald Baldwin + +Release Date: July 12, 2008 [EBook #26034] +[Date last updated: January 3, 2009] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREY TOWN *** + + + + +Produced by Nick Wall, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<h1>GREY TOWN</h1> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<h4>J ROY STEVENS, Print.,<br /> +1-7 Knox Place, Melbourne</h4> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="center"><img src="images/i004.jpg" width='410' height='700' alt="She raised the oar, and brought it down smartly across +his knuckles.—(See page 190)." /></div> + +<h4>She raised the oar, and brought it down smartly across +his knuckles.—<br />(See <a href="#Page_190">page 190</a>).</h4> + +<hr /> + +<h1>GREY TOWN</h1> + +<h2>An Australian Story</h2> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>GERALD R. BALDWIN</h2> + +<h4>Author of "Dr. Pat Cassidy," etc.</h4> + +<div class="center"><img src="images/logo.jpg" width='86' height='150' alt="Publisher's logo" /></div> + + +<p class="center">Wholly set up and printed in Australia.<br /> +Registered by the Postmaster-General for transmission through the<br /> +post as a book.</p> + +<h4>"MESSENGER" OFFICE, ST. PATRICK'S COLLEGE<br /> +MELBOURNE</h4> + +<h4>1922</h4> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<div class="index"> +<ul> +<li><span class="mono">CHAPTER</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_I">I.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Presbytery</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_II">II.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Michael O'Connor</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_III">III.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Quirks</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Promotion</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_V">V.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Denis Quirk</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Readjustment</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">"The Observer" Dies</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">John Gerard</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Days of Storm and Stress</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_X">X.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Rumour, Hydra-Headed</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Temptation</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Sylvia Jackson</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Denis Refuses to Speak</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">"And One Other!"</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Desmond Goes Under</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Virtue of Grey Town</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Father Healy's Mission</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Through the Gorge</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX.</a></span> <span class="smcap">"The Freelance"</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Great is the Truth</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Bishop's Solution</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">A Link Broken</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">A Sick Call</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Denis Quirk's Homecoming</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">A Proposal</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">XXVI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Good and Evil</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"><a href="#POST_SCRIPTUM"><span class="smcap">Post Scriptum</span></a></span></li> +</ul> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<h1>Grey Town.</h1> + +<h2>An Australian Story.</h2> + +<hr class="smler" /> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>THE PRESBYTERY.</h3> + +<p>Grey Town looks down on the river and the ocean, its streets climbing up +the small hill upon which the town has been built. It is a pleasant +place in which to live, where, in winter, the air is warm, and in summer +a cool breeze from the ocean tempers the hottest day. At the feet of the +town the ocean beats restlessly on the narrow strip of beach that +fringes the shore. On the distant horizon one may often see the black +smoke, sometimes the hull, shadowy and indistinct, of some passing +steamer. But only the smaller steamers or ships can enter the bay, for +there are reefs and sand-spits, to touch which would mean destruction. +Beside the town, the River Grey enters the ocean. When the tide is high, +and the river swollen by heavy rains, there is a turmoil of waters at +the bar, ocean and river contending for mastery. Then the river, banked +up at its exit, overflows the low lands that lie to the east of the +town, turning a green valley into a muddy lake. At other times the Grey +valley is green and pleasant, excepting where the masses of grey rock +from which it has its name jut out over the river.</p> + +<p>At the highest summit of the town stands the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>Catholic church, the +presbytery beside it. Years ago, when Father Healy came to his new +parish, he found an acre block, vacant and forlorn, the very summit of +the highest hill above the town.</p> + +<p>"This has been destined for my church. In accordance with precedent, I +shall build here," said the priest.</p> + +<p>The agent to whom he made the remark laughed doubtingly. He knew Grey +Town, man and woman, intimately; the peculiarities of Ebenezer Brown, +owner of this plot of land, were well known to him.</p> + +<p>"You can whistle for this site. It belongs to Ebenezer Brown," he said.</p> + +<p>"Ebenezer Brown has his price, I presume," remarked Father Healy.</p> + +<p>"He will sell this land—to an ordinary man—for twice its real value. +To you he will not sell at any price."</p> + +<p>"He shall have his price—from you. It will be worth four times its real +value in a few years. Go and buy the land."</p> + +<p>Thus was the site acquired, to the great indignation and consternation +of the late owner.</p> + +<p>"I might have named my own price if I had known who wanted it," he +growled.</p> + +<p>"You named your price, exactly double the true value," answered the +agent.</p> + +<p>"I could have got four times, six times, the real value, if you had +dropped a hint. I have been robbed."</p> + +<p>"Robbed!" cried the agent. "That would be a reversal of the ordinary +routine. You old villain!" he added, as Ebenezer Brown walked out of his +shop.</p> + +<p>The old man was wealthy, and a miser, each of which characteristics may +be corollary to the other. He made money by saving it; he saved it +because he loved it. Many things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> he had achieved by strategy. The "Grey +Town Observer," at one time the property of Michael O'Connor, was now +Ebenezer Brown's, won by usury. The late owner, a careless man, was +content to continue as editor, and thus serve the man who had robbed +him. He was sufficiently shrewd to recognise his employer's character, +yet at once too easy going and honest to prove other than a good +servant. But he held, and always expressed, a heartfelt contempt for his +master.</p> + +<p>St. Mary's Church at Grey Town is large and commodious, built of +bluestone, with a square tower. Over the porch is a statue of the +Blessed Virgin, and from that position She appears to look down upon and +bless the town.</p> + +<p>When the church was built, many, both friends and enemies, declared that +it was too large.</p> + +<p>"It's all church, and no congregation," asserted Wise, the bootmaker, +whose custom it was to address a few disciples in the Public Gardens +every Sunday.</p> + +<p>This remark was repeated to Father Healy, and smilingly he answered:</p> + +<p>"The congregation will grow, but the church can't do that. Mr. Wise has +a larger church, and a smaller congregation, all said and done."</p> + +<p>And, sure enough, the congregation increased, until there was barely +standing room for many at the early morning Mass.</p> + +<p>In front, St. Mary's looks down on St. Paul's, the Anglican place of +worship; below it, on the further slope of the hill, stands the +Presbyterian chapel. On Sundays the three bells clang a loud discord. +Throughout the week, however, Mr. Green, of St. Luke's, and Mr. +Matthews, the Presbyterian minister, frequently visited Father Healy to +discuss any subject but religion.</p> + +<p>Saving for Wise, chief Ishmaelite of Grey Town,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> and opposed to every +religious and political belief, peace prevailed in Grey Town. Father +Healy came to the town desiring concord, and, after a short and natural +estrangement, first Mr. Green, the Anglican clergyman, and later the +other ministers of the town, had offered him the hand of friendship. +There were, in fact, no greater friends and truer admirers than Father +Healy and Mr. Green. When the priest had built his school, and invited +the Bishop to lay the foundation stone, Mr. Green was present to offer +his congratulations. Many an evening the two sat at bridge with Clarke, +the solicitor, and Michael O'Connor to make the table complete.</p> + +<p>"Let Grey Town be an object lesson to Australia," laughed Father Healy. +"Here we value one another as citizens, and overlook each other's +religious misbeliefs."</p> + +<p>To this Mr. Green replied smilingly:</p> + +<p>"You only need one thing to be a perfect man, Father."</p> + +<p>"And that is to pull you over the wall beside me," cried the priest.</p> + +<p>If St. Mary's Church were large and imposing, the presbytery was old and +diminutive. Father Healy had bought the land and the house as it stood +on a block beside the one for church and schools, and he had made no +attempt to enlarge or improve the house.</p> + +<p>"Time enough to build when I am dead," he remarked in answer to a +deputation of his parishioners.</p> + +<p>"But it is a disgrace to us to see you living in a ramshackle building, +half in and half out of doors," said the spokesman.</p> + +<p>"I have built church and schools, and I am content," replied the priest. +"Let the next man erect a presbytery. What there is, is enough for me, +and who is to grumble, if not I?"</p> + +<p>Therewith he dismissed the deputation kindly, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> returned to his +study, the bow window of which looked out on the garden, a quiet +solitude, where the priest often walked to say his Office. It was like +the soul of good Father Healy, a peaceful spot, filled with +sweet-smelling, simple flowers.</p> + +<p>This garden was the pride of Dan, who acted as general factotum at the +presbytery, and laboured and whistled the day through, with a smiling +recognition for all comers.</p> + +<p>"'Tis the finest piece of garden in Grey Town," he was wont to declare. +"Give me the old wallflower, the rose, violet, and carnation, and let +others be stocking their beds with dahlias and chrysanthemums, which +have no smell to remind you of the old country."</p> + +<p>There were few idle moments in his life. He scrubbed the presbytery +verandah, and cleaned the windows, groomed and doctored the priest's +horses, fed the fowls, and spent his leisure in an attempt to keep the +school children out of the presbytery garden and orchard. In the last of +his tasks he succeeded with all the scholars but Tim O'Neill. But Tim +had respect for no one, not even Dan. Yet Father Healy prophesied good +things of Tim.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Maggie Gorman was housekeeper at the presbytery, a woman whose sour +face concealed a kindly heart. She and Dan were for ever disputing, yet +each held the other in profound respect. Let anyone traduce Mrs. Gorman, +and Dan was bristling all over like an indignant porcupine. Say one word +disrespectful of Dan before Mrs. Gorman, and you might wish that one +word unspoken. Molly Healy, the priest's sister, declared that they +quarrelled, yet loved, one another, as if they had been sister and +brother.</p> + +<p>Molly Healy herself spent a large part of her life in a struggle for +precedence with Mrs. Gorman. But the housekeeper contrived to hold her +position of authority.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p><p>"A child like you," she remarked, "to be troubling herself with the +grocer and butcher! When you are as old as myself, I shall let you have +your own way all the time."</p> + +<p>To this Molly acquiesced of necessity; there was no appeal to her +brother.</p> + +<p>"Now, peace! peace!" he would say. "I am here to look after the souls of +the parish, and you must not trouble me about the affairs of the flesh. +Let Mrs. Gorman take care of the meat, since it pleases her. If you +don't, she will be poisoning us."</p> + +<p>Molly Healy was a notability in Grey Town. Saving the school children, +no one called her any other title but "Molly," or "Molly Healy." If a +friend had chanced to do so, it would have caused Molly bitter pain, for +she was a kindly soul. Plain, yet not unpleasing, she had a +superabundance of bright Irish humour, and a quickness of repartee that +amused all, but offended none.</p> + +<p>"It's only Molly Healy," people were accustomed to say, "and she's the +sweetest, kindest creature, that wouldn't hurt a fly, of intention."</p> + +<p>When she first came to Grey Town the girl had been desperately +home-sick, and many the longing glance she had cast at the ocean, +wishing that it might carry her back to dear old Ireland. But now she +was content to live in the bright, friendly land that was so kindly a +foster-mother to her. And there were a multitude of duties, mostly +self-imposed, to keep her mind and body busy.</p> + +<p>In the presbytery grounds there was a veritable menagerie of animal +pensioners dependent on her—two dogs, three cats, with a numerous +progeny of kittens; a cockatoo and magpie, marvellously gifted in slang; +two seagulls, kept for the benefit of the snails that infested the +garden; an aviary of small, brightly-coloured birds; and, lastly, a +miserable sheep, rescued<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> from death by the roadside to live in an +asthmatic condition of semi-invalidism.</p> + +<p>Then there were the human pensioners, men and women of any belief, who +came periodically for food. They worshipped Molly Healy. But her kingdom +was over the ragamuffins and rapscallions of the town, with whom she +stood on the friendliest terms.</p> + +<p>"Sure, I am reforming the imps," she was accustomed to say.</p> + +<p>But it was a notorious fact that her young proteges rarely developed +into moral perfection.</p> + +<p>Such was the presbytery of Grey Town and its inmates in the days of +which I am writing.</p> + +<p>Father Healy was eating a perfunctory dinner in the dining-room, Mrs. +Gorman and Dan wrangled in the kitchen, but Molly sat in the playground +of the school, with Tim O'Neill, the culprit, facing her, and a circle +of grinning children's faces as a background.</p> + +<p>Tim had the face of a cherub, if we can conceive a cherub with an +habitual grime on his countenance. Curly yellow hair, innocent blue +eyes, for ever twinkling, a dimple in each cheek; add to these a +dilapidated suit of clothes, and a sorely battered hat, and you have Tim +O'Neill, the scourge of Grey Town.</p> + +<p>"You will confess now, Tim O'Neill," said Molly Healy, with an assumed +severity.</p> + +<p>"It's to the Father I'll be confessing," replied the boy.</p> + +<p>"No, Tim; it's to me. The Father is too gentle, and you know it. Didn't +I see you with my own eyes?"</p> + +<p>"Where's the need of me telling you, then?" asked the unabashed Tim, +careful the while to keep beyond the reach of her hands.</p> + +<p>At this retort the audience giggled. They admired the audacity of Tim, +although most of them were model children. For, as his distracted mother +often<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> said, in excuse of her own leniency, "Tim has such a way with +him. You couldn't help but smile, even when he is at his wickedest."</p> + +<p>"I saw you stealing the apples," cried Molly, disregarding his +rejoinder. "Do you know that it's a big sin to steal the priest's +apples? It's"—she hesitated for a moment, anxious to leave a lasting +impression—"it's sacrilege."</p> + +<p>The corners of Tim's mouth dropped, and his face became grave.</p> + +<p>"Is it, miss?" he asked soberly.</p> + +<p>"Now, listen to me, Tim, and I will teach you logic. Of course you know +what logic is?"</p> + +<p>"Is it a pain here?" asked Tim, pointing to the region below his +waistcoat, the twinkle returning to his eye. Molly sternly repressed a +tendency to giggle.</p> + +<p>"No, logic is the art of reasoning," she replied, gravely. "Is that the +presbytery, Tim?"</p> + +<p>"What else?" asked Tim, scornfully.</p> + +<p>"And to whom does it belong?"</p> + +<p>"To the Father, to be sure."</p> + +<p>"No, Tim; you are wrong."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gorman hailed the group from the kitchen door.</p> + +<p>"Is Miss Molly there? Then send her to her dinner."</p> + +<p>"I am busy, teaching logic. Sure the dinner can wait," replied Molly. +"Now, Tim, and whose is it?"</p> + +<p>"Is it the bishop's, Miss?"</p> + +<p>"Wrong again. It belongs to the Church, and to steal from the Church is +sacrilege. That's a big sin for a little boy to carry on his conscience, +Tim O'Neill."</p> + +<p>"It was only for a lark I took them, miss. Joe Adams there dared me to +do it." And, his face brightening at the thought, "I have them in my +pocket."</p> + +<p>"Have you tasted them, Tim?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p><p>"They have been bitten—by someone, miss," replied Tim, feeling in his +pocket as if to assure himself of the fact.</p> + +<p>"Let me see them," said the relentless Molly.</p> + +<p>"There is not much left to see."</p> + +<p>"Was it you that tasted them?"</p> + +<p>"Me and Joe, miss. He was hungry."</p> + +<p>"Then you and Joe will die, Tim," cried the tormentor in a melancholy +voice.</p> + +<p>Tim's face became gloomy, while Joe Adams rubbed his eyes with his +knuckles.</p> + +<p>"No, miss. Don't be saying that," sighed Tim, now thoroughly repentant.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you will—and so will I—and the doctor, too."</p> + +<p>"I really am ashamed of you, Molly. This is persecution of an innocent +boy."</p> + +<p>The big, gaunt man, with deeply-lined face and iron grey moustache, who +had paused to smile at the conversation, feigned an expression of +disapproval as she looked up smilingly into his face.</p> + +<p>"Persecution! For shame, Doctor Marsh, to be making such a suggestion. +It's logic I'm teaching Tim—the apples, Tim, the apples!"</p> + +<p>"They're not apples, miss," replied Tim.</p> + +<p>"What are they, then?"</p> + +<p>"They're cores, miss."</p> + +<p>This reply was greeted with a shout of laughter, often repeated as Tim +produced the remains of four apples, one by one.</p> + +<p>"There you are, doctor. Now, what would you do to Tim," asked Molly.</p> + +<p>"Tell him to take what he wants and change him from a criminal to a +law-abiding citizen."</p> + +<p>"There you are, Tim. Do you see the doctor's watch—it's a fine gold +repeater. Take it, if you are wanting a watch!"</p> + +<p>Tim riveted his eyes on the doctor's watch-chain,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> and the latter put +his fingers on it to assure himself of its safety.</p> + +<p>"Run away, Tim, and don't be stealing again," he cried. "And you come +inside with me, Molly, and eat your dinner. It will do you more good +than a ton of logic. I have business with Father Healy."</p> + +<p>The children scattered in all directions, saving for a group around Tim +O'Neill. To these he related an amended version of the late +conversation.</p> + +<p>"'D'you know what sacrilege is?' says she.</p> + +<p>"'Sacrilege!' says I, scratching my head. 'Will it be telling lies?'</p> + +<p>"'It may be, and it may not be,' says she.</p> + +<p>"'Then I think it is sacrilege you're after, yourself. To be telling +lies with a brother a priest is sacrilege, sure enough.'</p> + +<p>"With that she wiped her eyes with the back of one hand. I think it's +shamed she is." A burst of laughter rewarded the young sinner, and he +darted off for home to gobble down a cold dinner.</p> + +<p>"Is Michael O'Connor worse?" asked Molly, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"He is dying," replied the doctor.</p> + +<p>"What will Kathleen and Desmond do?"</p> + +<p>"Desmond can battle for himself, but Kathleen's future needs +consideration."</p> + +<p>"Why not go to the Quirks, at Layton?"</p> + +<p>"I would not allow Kathleen O'Connor to go to everybody. I must discuss +the matter with Father Healy," replied Doctor Marsh.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>MICHAEL O'CONNOR.</h3> + +<p>Michael O'Connor died placidly, as he had always lived. An improvident +man, as the world uses the term, he undoubtedly had been, but this arose +from a defect of character. He never could refuse to give when asked to +do so; his failing sprang from an excess of generosity.</p> + +<p>A clever man, brilliant in his own chosen career of journalism, +opportunities to make money had not been wanting; and money had been +made and spent. He had founded "The Grey Town Observer," now a valuable +property, but the paper had passed into the hands of Ebenezer Brown, +with Michael O'Connor as editor; for Ebenezer Brown recognised that no +other man could better fill the position. But the proprietor was careful +to make the utmost of his employee's lack of worldly wisdom, offering +him the very lowest salary that ever an editor worked for. The +consequence was that Michael O'Connor lived and died an impecunious man, +whose only legacy to his children was the record of a virtuous life.</p> + +<p>Yet no fear had troubled the man as life slowly slipped from him. He had +wronged none: to the poor he had given generously; staunch to his +friends, loved by his children, and always faithful to his religion, why +should he have any regrets? "Father," he said to Father Healy, "I am not +afraid to die, for God is good; He will provide for Kathleen and +Desmond, as He has provided for me, always a child. Father, always a +child, as my father told me I would be."</p> + +<p>"Just a child," said Father Healy, as he looked at the peaceful face of +the dear friend, "as innocent and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> helpless as a child. God will reward +him for what he has done for others."</p> + +<p>Death was very near Michael O'Connor at that moment; it hovered over his +bed, waiting every moment with thin, outstretched hands to snatch him +away. On his bed he lay, his face waxen in colour and emaciated, while +the white hands clasped the crucifix. Yet even then one might realise +that the dying man had at one time been called "handsome Mike O'Connor." +In the prime of his manhood—tall, broad-shouldered, and always +cheerful—no other man in the district could look anything but +insignificant beside him. But many a one from among the Irish farmers +knew that he came of a line always noted for beauty. Men and women, the +O'Connors had rarely failed in good looks, and as rarely succeeded in +keeping their money. The dying man was, after all, the inheritor of his +ancestors' virtues and failings.</p> + +<p>The candles were lighted by the bedside. Father Healy, with Kathleen and +Desmond, knelt on the floor reciting the prayers for the dying. The +children were crying, Kathleen impulsively and without restraint, +Desmond secretively, as men are accustomed to weep. The sick man's +breathing came more slowly and weakly, his lips framed an occasional act +of contrition which he was too feeble to utter. When the end came, it +was a gentle transition from life to death. Through it all the old clock +on the bedroom mantelpiece, dark-stained, and of a quaint design, ticked +on as it had done ever since Desmond could remember. Symbolic it seemed +of the world, that heeds not death; but moves, always onwards, replacing +each one as he dies.</p> + +<p>They clothed him in the brown habit, and placed him in the coffin, with +the crucifix on his breast. There his many friends came to pray for +him—men, women, little children, among them the good nuns, to whom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> he +had always been a benefactor. It may safely be said that Michael +O'Connor had not left one enemy behind him. If his life had been +something of a failure, the man's death was a complete success.</p> + +<p>But there were the children to think of, Kathleen and Desmond, +inheritors of his good looks, but of nothing beyond that. Left young in +the hands of a careless, happy-go-lucky father, who had always +religiously applied the text of Scripture, "Sufficient unto the day is +the evil thereof," what were they to do for themselves? Desmond could +draw and paint; he had the usual smattering of knowledge to be obtained +in an ordinary school. Beyond these accomplishments and his father's +gift for writing, the big, handsome, curly-haired fellow, half man and +half boy, had nothing wherewith to fight the world.</p> + +<p>"Writing for him, I suppose?" suggested Father Healy, as he and Dr. +Marsh drove out in the doctor's gig to interview the O'Connors.</p> + +<p>Dr. Marsh grunted, as was his way. He never had paid much attention to +Desmond O'Connor. His opinion of the boy was that a battle with the +world would do him nothing but good.</p> + +<p>"Whatever he can get. If he does that well, he may begin to pick and +choose," he said. "But Kathleen needs consideration."</p> + +<p>Kathleen O'Connor was undoubtedly the doctor's favourite. She was such a +sweet girl, beautiful in face, gentle in her manners. In her black dress +she had looked so fragile and broken with grief on the day of her +father's funeral. Vainly trying to maintain composure, yet shaken +constantly by an involuntary sob, she had marvellously affected the +tough old doctor, to whom female beauty appealed, although he affected +to scorn it.</p> + +<p>"The girl is beautiful," he said, "and it's a dangerous gift with +weakness."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p><p>"The O'Connors always were beautiful," replied Father Healy. "Michael's +father was the finest man in Ireland. They were born to be kings, and +spent their money as if they had been emperors, while the money lasted. +The boy is as grand as the girl, and I am fearful for him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there is good and bad in the boy, as there is in every man of us."</p> + +<p>He and the priest were sworn friends and allies, although they argued on +every question that ever arose local or general—the doctor because he +liked it, and Father Healy to humour a friend. At the gate of "Avoca," +as Michael O'Connor had called his house, the doctor reined his horse +in, and the two men scanned the dilapidated gate and unpainted fence, +part of the general decay of what had been a pleasant villa and garden +in the good days.</p> + +<p>"It's like poor Michael," sighed the priest. "He only troubled himself +about one thing, his soul. Well! that's saved, please God."</p> + +<p>"Hem!" grunted the doctor, "that won't help Kathleen."</p> + +<p>"It's a consolation to her, and always will be. To have had a good +father is of as much value as a fortune," replied the priest.</p> + +<p>"From your point of view, perhaps. There is only one thing you people +value—the soul. The poor body may look after itself, and often gets +more kicks than ha'pence."</p> + +<p>The priest smiled significantly.</p> + +<p>"You flatter us," he said.</p> + +<p>"Rubbish!" replied the doctor. "Why don't you look after yourself; +aren't you of more value than the people you are killing yourself for?"</p> + +<p>Father Healy laughed, for he was a stout, rubicund man.</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether you or I look the better <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>nourished," he asked, +surveying the doctor's attenuated form.</p> + +<p>"Some day you will drop down dead," replied the other.</p> + +<p>"Death comes to all sooner or later," said his companion.</p> + +<p>"Avoca" had at one time been a fine property; now over everything lay +the mark of decay. A broad drive, covered with grass and weed; the +remains of beds, where thistles and docks were destroying the flowers +and lawns, knee-deep in the over-growth.</p> + +<p>"And mortgaged for more than its value," sighed the priest.</p> + +<p>"Do you approve of this?" asked Dr. Marsh, with a comprehensive wave of +the hand.</p> + +<p>"I do not. But better this than order and iniquity. I would like the +property neat, tidy and unencumbered, with a fortune in the bank for +Kathleen. But," Father Healy added with a sigh, "one can't have +everything exactly as he wishes."</p> + +<p>"It is the fault of your system," growled the doctor; "you are too +strong on Eternity."</p> + +<p>"I could not be too strong on that. But I always preach prudence and +thrift."</p> + +<p>"Bah! The presbytery is a sanctuary for all the loafers in Grey Town."</p> + +<p>"You had better discuss that with Molly. She is almsgiver at the +presbytery. But she tells me," the priest continued, with a twinkle in +his eye, "that she doles out the food and money prudently, and lectures +once a week on the virtues of total abstinence and hard work."</p> + +<p>Even the doctor could not refrain from a dry chuckle at this aspect of +Molly Healy's almsgiving.</p> + +<p>"Then the lectures are as fruitless as your sermons," he said. "If +Michael O'Connor had copied Joe Sheahan——."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p><p>"Ah, there you are! Didn't I teach Joe worldly prudence myself?" cried +the priest, hastily. "I am proud of Joe, a good honest man, for all his +money."</p> + +<p>They drew up in front of the house, and Desmond came running down the +steps to take the doctor's horse. He was a big, bright-faced fellow, +though he still bore the marks of the recent sorrow in the black band on +his arm.</p> + +<p>"Let me take the mare to the stable," he said.</p> + +<p>Priest and doctor slowly descended from the gig and entered the house +side by side, noting that here, too, were signs of decay and of neglect.</p> + +<p>Kathleen emerged from the dining-room to greet them. In her face she +still bore traces of recent tears, for she was a woman, and grief was +not so easily forgotten by her as by her brother.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Brown is waiting for you in the dining-room," she said, after the +first greetings.</p> + +<p>"Ebenezer Brown?" said the doctor, as if to turn back. "What brings him +here?"</p> + +<p>"Just the same errand as yours," cried a harsh voice from the +dining-room. "To mourn over the man you killed."</p> + +<p>A dry cackle followed the speech. But no one heeded what Ebenezer Brown +said, so notorious was he in the town for a love of money and a bitter +tongue. The doctor accepted the speech as a challenge, and entered the +room defiantly, while Father Healy followed him.</p> + +<p>"You didn't expect to find me here," said the old man, who sat in an +armchair, a thin, stooped figure, with a pallid face and white hair.</p> + +<p>"We did not," replied the priest.</p> + +<p>The doctor murmured something about vultures and the dead.</p> + +<p>"Eh?" asked the old man, feigning a convenient deafness, "I might expect +you and the priest; the one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> generally prepares the way for the other."</p> + +<p>"I am expecting it will be a difficult meeting," murmured the priest.</p> + +<p>Dr. Marsh, however, made no reply to the remark. He was awaiting a +convenient time to lunge at his enemy, and he sat down opposite Ebenezer +Brown, regarding him critically. After a moment's pause, he asked:</p> + +<p>"Are your affairs in order, Brown?"</p> + +<p>"Mind your own business, sub-dividing men into small allotments," +snapped the other.</p> + +<p>"I should arrange everything if I were you. Your money won't buy you a +passport," said the doctor. "Increase your subscription to the hospital +from threepence to sixpence, and lower your rents to twice what they +should be, before it is too late. Your time will come before long."</p> + +<p>"You won't get a penny of my money, living or dead," replied Ebenezer +Brown.</p> + +<p>"That shows you have a little wisdom remaining, for I would poison you, +and believe I was performing an act of public utility."</p> + +<p>"Let us get to business," cried the priest, anxious to terminate the +wrangle. "Dr. Marsh and I am here to discuss what is to be done with +Michael O'Connor's children."</p> + +<p>"I am here to help the children," said Ebenezer. "Not with money," he +added hastily, "but with sound advice."</p> + +<p>"The only thing you ever gave away," commented the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Eh? Yes; it is more valuable than money," said Ebenezer, relapsing into +deafness. "Now, Desmond there will have to work. He has been idle too +long."</p> + +<p>To this remark Kathleen replied hastily:</p> + +<p>"My father thought——."</p> + +<p>"You must speak up if you expect me to hear,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> young lady," growled +Ebenezer. "Your father was improvident."</p> + +<p>"A noble and generous man," replied the doctor, hotly.</p> + +<p>"No doubt you think so. He lined your pockets, I believe."</p> + +<p>Dr. Marsh could stand this no longer. He rose, pale with fury, but +Father Healy gently pushed him back into his seat.</p> + +<p>"Don't be paying attention to the old man," he said.</p> + +<p>The two older men glared at one another across the table; the doctor +growled out "Miser," Ebenezer muttered "Quack." But, fortunately, +Desmond O'Connor entered the room at that moment, and distracted the +attention of the company.</p> + +<p>"Well, Desmond," cried Ebenezer Brown, "I need an office-boy; how would +you like the billet?"</p> + +<p>Desmond paused in the door, his face flushing crimson. He was 18, and to +be termed an office-boy sounded like an insult. Father Healy, noting his +shame and anger, went to the boy and placed a hand kindly on his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Take the rungs one by one if you would be at the top, Desmond," he +said.</p> + +<p>"He will be a long time getting there," sneered Ebenezer Brown.</p> + +<p>Father Healy offered no reply. He had not come to quarrel, and where was +the use? But Dr. Marsh answered quickly:</p> + +<p>"You may sneer now, Ebenezer Brown—it is easy to do that—but the day +will come when you will be asking Father Healy to help you, for he is as +certain to be saved as you to be lost."</p> + +<p>This defence came as a surprise to everyone present, perhaps most of all +to the priest. The doctor was accustomed to scold and taunt him; this +unexpected championship almost took his breath away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> Ebenezer Brown was +too greatly annoyed even to retort, but he glanced vindictively at the +doctor.</p> + +<p>"And now for Kathleen. Mrs. Quirk would like to have her at Layton as a +companion and friend," said the priest.</p> + +<p>"Friend!" grunted the doctor. "Quirk was a grocer."</p> + +<p>"And where is the harm in that?" asked Father Healy, "if he were +honest?"</p> + +<p>"Honest?" commented Ebenezer Brown. "There never was an honest grocer; +they all put sand in their sugar, and sell their second-rate goods as +the best quality. I know them."</p> + +<p>"Set a thief to catch a thief," cried the doctor. "How did you make your +money?"</p> + +<p>"Honestly! Not as you did, by poisoning your rich patients after they +have left you a legacy," replied Ebenezer Brown.</p> + +<p>"Honestly! You caught poor Harris drunk, and swindled him out of his +land," retorted Dr. Marsh.</p> + +<p>"Peace! Peace!" sighed Father Healy, attempting to take the doctor away +by force.</p> + +<p>"And you murdered Mat Devlin, as you've murdered a host of others," +cried Ebenezer Brown.</p> + +<p>Dr. Marsh broke from his friend's arm and went round the table where +Ebenezer Brown sat. Shaking his fist in the old man's face, he cried:</p> + +<p>"If I had one per cent. of your sins on my shoulders, I would never +sleep again. I am tempted to give you the little blow that would be the +end of you; but I don't like to rob you of your small hope of +repentance."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>THE QUIRKS.</h3> + +<p>A splendid house, extravagantly furnished, green lawns, gardens bright +in colours, and rich pasture lands around. Inside the house a crotchety +old man and a lonely woman. Such was Kathleen O'Connor's new home at +"Layton."</p> + +<p>The name, "Samuel Quirk, Grocer," had reposed over the front of a small +shop in a small street of Collingwood for many years. The grocer was +known to the district as a shrewd tradesman on a small scale, and a keen +politician. He had a limited connection with certain well-tried +customers, and a number of irregular clients who came and went. In the +neighbourhood where he lived, the grocer must assuredly have gone under +had he not conducted a cash business. As it was, he kept his head above +water and lived a quiet life, respected by his neighbours.</p> + +<p>One day the postman brought a letter that completely altered the Quirks' +scheme of life. It came from Boston, bringing news of a brother's death, +and the gift of a great fortune to the Quirks. Such an unexpected event +brought confusion into the orderly life of the old people.</p> + +<p>"What shall we do with all the money?" the grocer asked his wife.</p> + +<p>She was sitting over her knitting at the time, for her nimble fingers +were seldom idle.</p> + +<p>"Why not ask Father Healy?" she answered at once; for Father Healy was +her one idea of wisdom. Years ago the priest had been a curate in +Collingwood,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> and had there entwined himself about many hearts, Mrs. +Quirk's among the number. Even now she wrote to him when her heart was +troubled.</p> + +<p>"Father Healy! And why ask him?" replied the old man.</p> + +<p>He always began by disputing his wife's suggestions, but generally ended +by putting them into practice.</p> + +<p>"He is the good, wise man," replied Mrs. Quirk. "Did he ever tell me +anything I should do that was not the only thing to do?"</p> + +<p>Samuel Quirk grunted disbelievingly. "Oh, he's right enough for the +soul, but what would Father Healy know about the body?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Quirk having placed the yeast in his mind, left it to ferment. She +well knew that in a few days' time a letter would be despatched to the +Presbytery at Grey Town. And this happened as she anticipated. In due +course, too, the answer came back to them.</p> + +<p>"Why not buy 'Layton' and settle down on the land? It will give you +something to do, and lengthen your own and Mrs. Quirk's life," the +priest wrote.</p> + +<p>Samuel Quirk read the letter to his wife, commenting unfavourably on it +the while.</p> + +<p>"Buy a farm? What would I be doing on a farm?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Why not go down to Grey Town and see the place for yourself?" suggested +Mrs. Quirk.</p> + +<p>After a prolonged argument, the old man again accepted her advice. It +was something of an adventure to him to journey so far by train, and to +spend a night away from home. But it was far worse for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> the old woman, +as he always termed her, to be alone in the shop for thirty-six hours. +She missed her husband's rough voice, the heavy shuffling tread, above +all the rare endearments that she valued for their infrequency. When +Samuel Quirk returned he was received as if his absence had lasted +twelve months.</p> + +<p>"Well? Are we to go?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"It's done. The place is bought and sold, and it's mine—and yours," he +answered.</p> + +<p>"Is it a grand place?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>"It's as grand as the Governor's house," replied the old man. "I +couldn't count the rooms, and the gardens are amazing."</p> + +<p>A sigh came from her lips as she cast her eyes around the small +sitting-room where every object was familiar.</p> + +<p>"Can we take our things with us?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Take these!" he replied scornfully. "I've bought furniture, cows and +horses, everything. What would we do with these?"</p> + +<p>He was a man, and she a woman, whose heart was devoted to these old +familiar, useful friends. A few of them she took with her, and placed in +her own room at the new home, among them the old cane chair where her +husband had sat, night after night, to smoke his pipe.</p> + +<p>In the new home, Samuel Quirk soon found work and pleasure in +supervising the employees. Of agriculture and horticulture he knew +nothing, but he gathered knowledge speedily as he stood over his +workers. He bore the transplanting well, and throve in the new<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> soil, +while Mrs. Quirk was lonely and sad. There were none of her old cronies +with whom to discuss small gossip over the counter or in the back room +behind the shop. She missed the noise of the great city; the house was +so large that it frightened her. When Kathleen O'Connor came, the old +woman put her arm lovingly around her and said:</p> + +<p>"Sure you will be coming to stay, Honey?"</p> + +<p>"I hope so," replied the girl.</p> + +<p>"Now, don't be calling me Mrs. Quirk; just call me Granny, as all the +girls did in Melbourne. It was: 'How are ye, Granny?' and 'How are the +rheumatics, Granny?' I miss the bright girls now."</p> + +<p>Kathleen realised that here was a lonely soul, and found all the +expected strangeness in the new life vanish from her.</p> + +<p>She set herself to the purpose of making Mrs. Quirk happy, devising a +hundred means to accomplish this. In the house she interested the old +lady in reading, with fancy work, and, above all, with the artistic +arrangement of the rooms.</p> + +<p>"There is no reason why things should not be pretty," she said. "Let us +begin with your own room, and gradually transform the house. It is so +ugly now."</p> + +<p>"Ugly!" cried Mrs. Quirk; "to my mind it's grand—far too grand for a +plain woman like me. But you're an O'Connor, Honey, and 'tis natural you +would know more about these things than me. Didn't I know your +grandmother? Didn't I work for her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> myself? But don't be telling the old +man I told you. It is strange having you in my house."</p> + +<p>Kathleen turned the conversation into another channel. But she could not +help reflecting upon the vicissitudes of life. A few years ago and Mrs. +Quirk was a servant in her grand-parents' house; now she, by a quick +reversal of the wheel of fortune, found herself practically a servant to +Mrs. Quirk.</p> + +<p>But her employer never permitted such a thought to enter her own mind; +it seemed almost as unthinkable as a heresy against her Faith.</p> + +<p>"You are my friend," she told the girl; "though it is hard even to call +you that. Look at my hands and yours; mine that have scrubbed the floor +and been in the wash-tub, and yours that were just made to look at."</p> + +<p>Kathleen took one of the old lady's hands and kissed it.</p> + +<p>"And which are the better in the sight of God?" she asked; "the ones +that have done the work they were made to do, or those that are merely +objects of vanity? But I have worked with mine, too; scrubbed and +washed, like you."</p> + +<p>"Tis a wicked fate that made you have to do it; more shame to me for +calling what is done by Providence wicked. But it's a strange world, +Kathleen, this one; no one seems to be in their proper place. There's +Father Healy, him that should be a Bishop, still a priest."</p> + +<p>"Why not a Cardinal, or the Holy Father himself?" laughed Kathleen.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p><p>"And why not? It's a wise Pope the Father would make," answered Mrs. +Quirk. "Not that I am finding any fault with the Holy Father," she added +quickly; "he is a great man, the greatest in the whole world, and the +wisest."</p> + +<p>Kathleen O'Connor exercised a remarkable influence on the old lady. Mrs. +Quirk had needed a companion, and an interest in her new life; these she +found in Kathleen. Together they slowly transformed the house, Samuel +Quirk grumbling and protesting at each innovation, while he aided them +the while with his purse. In a phaeton drawn by a quiet old pony, they +travelled about the district, never missing a daily visit to the +Catholic Church.</p> + +<p>"I go out to visit my friends. Shall I miss calling on the best Friend +ever I had?" Mrs. Quirk asked Kathleen. "In Collingwood I never missed +the morning Mass, nor the afternoon visit. Here it is too far to go to +Mass every day, but the Good Lord would miss me if I did not come once +in the day to see Him."</p> + +<p>"If I am not good, it will not be your fault," laughed Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"It will be nobody's fault but your own; but you couldn't help being +good. Didn't Father Healy tell me——."</p> + +<p>"Hush!" cried Kathleen; "you must not give Father Healy's secrets away."</p> + +<p>At the church gates they held a daily conference with Molly Healy. She +had interested Mrs. Quirk in her gamins, and was accustomed to draw upon +the old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> lady's purse when the Presbytery funds were low, or Father +Healy obdurate to her appeals.</p> + +<p>Molly Healy acted as sacristan in the church, and Father Healy was +accustomed to say:</p> + +<p>"If you attended to everything as you do to the Altar, you would be a +treasure to the husband that came seeking you."</p> + +<p>"It's not many are doing that," replied the girl. "I could not count +them on my fingers—because, even I can't count what does not exist."</p> + +<p>"How many would you be expecting at eighteen? You are but a child," he +answered. "Well, the Altar is a credit to you. You make the brass shine +as if it were gold."</p> + +<p>"Gold it would be, if I had my way, and the glass precious stones. But I +do the best with what there is," replied Molly.</p> + +<p>She dearly loved to hear a word of praise in return for her labours. +This Kathleen knew well, and she encouraged Mrs. Quirk to admire the +flowers and other decorations. The old lady readily did this, for she +was typically Irish in finding it far easier to give a generous measure +of encouragement than to blame the actions of another.</p> + +<p>"It is you, Molly," she would say—at first, until corrected by the +girl, it had been Miss Molly—"that can put the flowers in their proper +places! It is a pleasure to come into the church and find the altar so +beautiful. Those carnations, now, they remind me of Heaven."</p> + +<p>"It is dahlias they are, Mrs. Quirk," Molly would reply; "and out of +your own garden."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p><p>"Is it dahlias? Well, I am getting a little blind, Molly; but the +beauty is there, whatever the flowers may be."</p> + +<p>Thus encouraged, Molly would speak of her proteges.</p> + +<p>"Joe McCarthy told me the same, and he thinks more praise is due to you +than me. You send me the flowers every day."</p> + +<p>"And why not? What better use for them? But which is Joe McCarthy?" Mrs. +Quirk might answer.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know Joe? Such a good boy, but unfortunate. He was with +Regan, driving the cart, when the horse ran away and broke himself and +the cart into small pieces. It was a mercy Joe was not in the cart," +Molly would continue.</p> + +<p>"Poor lad! And that was a misfortune. Is he badly hurt?" Mrs. Quirk +would ask.</p> + +<p>"Not hurt in his body, but dispirited. Regan discharged him without a +character. I went to him myself; it's a surly man he is. 'Why not give +the boy a testimonial?' I asked. 'It's the whip I will give him,' he +answered. That was all I got from Regan."</p> + +<p>"And why was the man so heartless?" asked Mrs. Quirk.</p> + +<p>"After all, Regan lost his horse and cart. You can scarcely blame him," +Kathleen would explain.</p> + +<p>"And hasn't he plenty of money to buy another? I have no patience with +Regan. And there is Joe, with a mother depending on him, out of work, +and with no testimonial to help him to another," Molly would reply.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p><p>The result would be a few shillings from the old lady's purse, which +Joe would probably spend on "a good thing," that would just fail to +secure a race, as "good things" so often do. But Molly Healy was never +discouraged by such trifles as these.</p> + +<p>"What did you do with the money, Joe?" she would ask.</p> + +<p>"It was Harry Price told me to invest it on Blue Peter."</p> + +<p>"I told you to take it home to your mother. Shame on you, Joe, to be +wasting her food on horses."</p> + +<p>"It was like this. 'Would you be making a fortune?' Harry asked me. And +who wouldn't, Miss Molly, not you nor I. 'Blue Peter is a cert,' said +he; 'my brother Bill will be riding.' Could you resist that?"</p> + +<p>"Hem!" Molly would reply; "and did he win?"</p> + +<p>"If his neck had been as long as Smoker's he would have won," Joe would +explain.</p> + +<p>After a few days he would return to favour, and continue a pensioner +until he found work for a short time. But ill-luck ever dogged Joe's +footsteps, and his periods of work were ever briefer and briefer, until +he threatened to relapse into chronic idleness. Then, to her own +surprise, and that of all who knew her, Molly suddenly compelled Joe to +reform.</p> + +<p>"I have a place for you, Joe, and the last you will ever be getting," +she said. "It's a disgrace to me you are, and everyone saying I have +spoiled you. Mr. Quirk will take you on, and he is a slave-driver. He +stands over his men with a whip. It was hard work I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> had to get you the +place—milking the cows, and helping in the garden. But I told the man +you were a hard worker. If you don't work hard, Joe, it is the whip I +will give you with my own hands."</p> + +<p>Whether it was this threat, a fear of Mr. Quirk, or the effects of the +mission cannot be clearly said, but Joe McCarthy clung to his work until +he eventually became overseer at "Layton." With his change in habits, +Joe also acquired a self-respect that led him to dress neatly, and to +sign the pledge. Thenceforward Molly Healy quoted him as the proof of +her powers as a reformer when taunted because of the rabble over whom +she reigned.</p> + +<p>"There was Joe McCarthy, that would not work until I persuaded him," she +would say. "Leave the boys to me; I am correcting them."</p> + +<p>Yet only Mrs. Quirk had absolute confidence in the girl's vocation as a +reformer. The old lady was never told of a good-for-nothing son or +husband but she would cry:</p> + +<p>"Send him to Molly Healy. If there is any good in him, Molly will bring +it out."</p> + +<p>Her hearers, knowing of Molly's long succession of failures, naturally +smiled at these commendations.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>PROMOTION.</h3> + +<p>"You can run round to the meeting in the Town Hall to-night and see what +sort of a fist you make of it," said Cairns, the man who now sat in the +editorial chair of "The Grey Town Observer," to Desmond O'Connor, just +one month after the young man had been admitted to the office.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," said Desmond, springing to his feet in his excitement.</p> + +<p>"It's a chance," said the editor. "Don't be too diffuse, but see that +you miss nothing. What is that paper in front of you?" He took the paper +from Desmond O'Connor's hands and held it at arm's length, while a +sardonic smile held possession of his face.</p> + +<p>"Shall I let the old man see it?" he asked. "Mr. Brown would like to see +himself as you see him, under the title of 'Old Eb.' By the way, if you +could catch Martin smiling to-night, and Langridge in tears, it would +help your report. You appear to bring out the salient features of a +handsome face, even if you accentuate them. Martin's teeth and +Langridge's nose are striking objects. Let us have them for to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Desmond returned to his type-writing with a sigh of satisfaction. In +this meeting he saw a road to promotion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>.</p> + +<p>Meeting Molly Healy on his way to luncheon, he paused to make her sharer +in his good fortune, for Molly and he had always been good comrades.</p> + +<p>Molly was in a tearing hurry at that moment. One of her dogs had +strayed, and she was beating the town to find him; but she paused to +listen to his tale.</p> + +<p>"Going to the meeting! Is it to speak?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No," he replied contemptuously, "to report what the beggars say."</p> + +<p>"Just to write down the words of a lot of windbags. That's nothing! If I +were Ebenezer Brown, you would be in Mr. Cairns' place. But, good luck +to you, Desmond. I will set all the old women praying for you. Some day +you will be owning a paper yourself, if I can help you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Molly," he cried.</p> + +<p>The girl cast a wistful glance after him as he left her, for no one +admired Desmond O'Connor more than she. But the vision of a black dog +vanishing around a distant corner caused her to start in a hurried +pursuit. Round the corner she ran, straight into the arms of Constable +McSherry, who was coming sedately along the footpath in an opposite +direction to her own.</p> + +<p>"What would my wife say if she saw this?" he asked, as she cannoned into +him; "a young lady running into my arms?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be talking nonsense," she replied, laughingly. "Did you see a +dog?"</p> + +<p>"It's nothing but dogs," he answered. "Which was the one you were +after?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p><p>"A black-and-tan collie with a blue-ribbon round his neck, and a saucy +look on his face."</p> + +<p>"A blue ribbon around his neck? It wouldn't be the one I saw going into +the public-house, then?"</p> + +<p>The constable paused to consider, while Molly suddenly whirled down the +street and pounced on the errant collie. Seeing this, Constable McSherry +turned to continue his leisurely course of inspection.</p> + +<p>As Desmond returned from his hurried meal, he again met Molly, towing +her unwilling captive home. She signalled to Desmond to stop.</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking that you might take me to the meeting," she said.</p> + +<p>Desmond shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Not to-night, Molly. You would have me laughing all the time. There's a +circus coming next week; will you come to that?"</p> + +<p>"Do you think I am never serious?" the girl asked. "I would not so much +as smile."</p> + +<p>"It can't be done, Molly. I shall be sitting at a table writing for all +I am worth."</p> + +<p>"Then I will sit just behind you and torment you all the while," she +remarked vindictively.</p> + +<p>And such was her purpose when she induced Dr. Marsh to accompany her to +the Town Hall that evening.</p> + +<p>"You don't know what you are doing!" he protested. "I shall go to sleep, +I know. Did you ever hear me snore? They tell me it's like the grunt of +a boar when he is hungry after a seven days' fast."</p> + +<p>"Let me hear you do it now!" she laughed. "I am<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> going there to-night +just to tease Desmond O'Connor. He refused to take me."</p> + +<p>"What is Desmond doing there?" asked the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Taking notes of the speeches. It won't be many notes he will take +to-night," she answered.</p> + +<p>"For shame, Molly. This is the boy's chance of promotion. If I take you, +we shall sit at the back of the hall."</p> + +<p>"Among the boys?" asked Molly. "Then you shall take me to enjoy the fun. +I'll ignore Desmond to-night; but I will be even with him for this."</p> + +<p>A political meeting, with two picked speakers to leaven a number of dull +and uninteresting harangues. It was not a very exciting entertainment. +But there were "the boys," vociferous, intolerant, sometimes amusing, to +enliven proceedings for Molly; while Desmond snatched up the salient +features in shorthand and with pencil. Samuel Quirk was a keen +politician, and he had transferred the scope of his energy from +Collingwood to Grey Town. Unlike many men, he had not changed his +politics with the change in his fortunes. He it was who had organised +the opposition. At his word a storm of protest, a roar of ironical +laughter, or a volley of interjections harassed the speakers on the +platform. And it was Samuel Quirk who asked the first questions at the +close of the meeting. Straightway Desmond transferred the old man to his +note-book, to appear on the following morning as "The Interjector in +Chief," in company with Martin and Langridge.</p> + +<p>"You have scored a bullseye," cried Cairns, when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> he had read Desmond's +report, and had glanced at the sketches. "You are promoted to the +reporting staff. Keep your observant faculties keen and your pencil +sharp, my boy, and we will make the old "Observer" boom."</p> + +<p>Samuel Quirk smiled when he saw himself in the morning's paper.</p> + +<p>"See here, old woman, what they have been doing to me!" he cried, as he +banged "The Observer" down in front of his wife at breakfast.</p> + +<p>With trembling hands, she adjusted her glasses, fully anticipating that +her husband had been sentenced to some heavy penalty for his political +creed. But when she saw him on the front sheet of the paper, with the +bellicose features of his face exaggerated, Mrs. Quirk was moved to +anger.</p> + +<p>"And who has been doing this?" she asked. "It is time something should +be done to put an end to this. It is an outrage——. Does he call +himself an artist?" she questioned, after studying the picture.</p> + +<p>"I think it's a very fine picture; perhaps the nose is a little large, +and the mouth, too. But it's quite a pleasant picture," said Samuel +Quirk complacently.</p> + +<p>"If I knew the man that had done it, sure I would make it quite +unpleasant for him," said Mrs. Quirk.</p> + +<p>"'Tis a sign of fame to be made a sketch of," said Samuel Quirk. "They +know that I have organised the boys, and this is the way they try to +have revenge."</p> + +<p>Therewith he went out to talk politics to his employes while he watched +them at work.</p> + +<p>"'Tis but eight hours you will do, lads, but it will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> be an honest eight +hours' work you will give me for the decent wages I pay you," he was +accustomed to say.</p> + +<p>Kathleen O'Connor recognised Desmond's hand in the sketch when Mrs. +Quirk showed it to her. She, however, considered it prudent not to +mention the artist's name, for she could see that Mrs. Quirk was deeply +hurt at what she regarded as an insult to the old man. Fortunately, +however, an event occurred during the day that entirely diverted Mrs. +Quirk's attention from the picture of her husband.</p> + +<p>It was one of Kathleen's duties to read to Mrs. Quirk the few letters +that came for her.</p> + +<p>"My sight is leaving me," the old lady remarked in excuse for her lack +of education, "and these spectacles don't appear to improve it."</p> + +<p>Therefore, Kathleen opened a letter, addressed in a man's bold +handwriting to "Mrs. Quirk, 26 Rainey-street, Collingwood," and +forwarded from that address. It had come from the United States, and had +evidently been delayed in transit, for the letter was dated three months +before it was received.</p> + +<p>"My dearest old mother," Kathleen began to read.</p> + +<p>"It's from Denis!" cried Mrs. Quirk. "Denis, that I believed was dead! +Call Mr. Quirk, my dear! Oh, this is too much joy! God is good, far too +good, to an undeserving old woman like me."</p> + +<p>Kathleen went out into the gardens and found Mr. Quirk, spade in hand, +busily instructing a raw recruit how to work.</p> + +<p>"There's no art in it," he remarked contemptuously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> "'Tis merely a +matter of muscle. You won't do for me!"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Quirk wants you in the dining-room," said Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"Wants me? And what for?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"She has a letter from your son."</p> + +<p>Mr. Quirk laughed contemptuously. But he paused in his work to reply.</p> + +<p>"My only son is dead these ten years. Is she mad?"</p> + +<p>"No, she is not," replied the girl indignantly. "I opened the letter +myself, and it is from your son."</p> + +<p>"I will come and see it. It is probably some idle vagabond that is +playing a trick on her," growled Samuel Quirk. "Here," he cried to the +labourer, "take the spade, and let me see what you can do."</p> + +<p>Kathleen was always annoyed by the old man's assumed contempt for his +wife. Samuel Quirk recognised the fact, and was secretly amused at it. +He feigned a greater intolerance and disrespect before the girl, just to +increase her indignation. Now, as she moved away, the picture of +resentment, he called out:</p> + +<p>"Tell her I am coming to expose the scamp. She is too soft. Every idle +fellow makes use of her."</p> + +<p>Kathleen found the old lady holding the opened letter upside down, +vainly attempting to decipher the writing, while the tears of joy +dropped from her eyes upon the pages.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Quirk does not believe it is from your son," said Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"Who but Denis would call me mother?" she asked. "But himself was just +saying that to annoy you; don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> be taking too much notice of him. Read +it, dearie. Let me hear my boy speaking to me again."</p> + +<p>"I have prospered and made a fortune in America. I am coming home to +look after you and the father. Prepare to pack up and come with me to a +better home than the old one in Collingwood. I have been wanting all +these years to have the old mother, who sacrificed herself for me, +beside me."</p> + +<p>"And why not sacrifice myself for him? Wasn't he my only child? And a +dear boy—and good. Didn't my heart all but break with joy when I first +saw him serving the good priest's Mass! It was Father Healy's himself, +no less. Does he say anything about the Faith?" asked Mrs. Quirk.</p> + +<p>"I shall buy a fine home, with the church not half a mile away. You can +make the church your second home, as you did in Collingwood," read +Kathleen.</p> + +<p>Samuel Quirk marched relentlessly into the room, his face showing the +most determined incredulity it could assume.</p> + +<p>"Let me see the letter," he said, calmly taking it from Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"Could Denis write like this?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"And who better?" cried Mrs. Quirk. "Wasn't he the smartest boy at +school? Do you remember the day he won all those prizes?"</p> + +<p>A smile of pride overspread the old man's face for one moment, then he +remorselessly subdued it.</p> + +<p>"I am thinking it is some scamp that has heard how soft you are," he +remarked, as he read the letter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> "Hem! I wonder how much money that +will be? And when will he be here?"</p> + +<p>As if in answer to his question, the sound of wheels was heard on the +avenue. Mrs. Quirk flew to the window, while the old man followed more +sedately.</p> + +<p>"It is himself!" cried Mrs. Quirk. "Let me be the first to bid him +welcome."</p> + +<p>She almost ran to the front door in her excitement, to find the strong +arms of a man around her.</p> + +<p>"Glory be to God! And is it Denis?" she sobbed.</p> + +<p>"Who else would it be?" answered the newcomer.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>DENIS QUIRK.</h3> + +<p>Cairns was compounded of energy, his policy to snatch from the hands of +progress all that was good, and make the uttermost use of it. "Try all +things," he would say. "Throw away the rubbish, and keep that which is +enduring." Under his management, "The Observer" advanced from a +second-class country paper to one but little inferior to the +metropolitan organs.</p> + +<p>One man whom he found on the staff he classified as hopeless.</p> + +<p>"Worse than this," he added, speaking to Desmond O'Connor, to whom he +unburdened himself, "'Gifford will never learn. He believes himself to +be a journalistic planet. I don't mind an ordinary honest fool that +knows it is a fool, but a fool that regards its own inane folly as the +final thing in wisdom is hopeless. Gifford must go."</p> + +<p>Here, however, Cairns found himself opposed to his employer. Ebenezer +Brown had so high a respect for Gifford that he had been sorely tempted, +after the death of Michael O'Connor, to place the sub-editor in the +editorial chair. For this promotion Gifford was fully prepared, and only +a very small incident preserved Ebenezer Brown from ruining his paper. +It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> had so chanced that the editor of a leading metropolitan paper had +come to the funeral of his former colleague, Michael O'Connor. Meeting +Ebenezer Brown after the funeral, he had asked:</p> + +<p>"Who will succeed O'Connor?"</p> + +<p>"I am thinking of promoting Gifford," replied the old man.</p> + +<p>"Gifford!" cried the editor, under whom many a journalist had graduated. +"Are you quite mad?"</p> + +<p>"Are you?" retorted Ebenezer Brown, hotly.</p> + +<p>'Many people say I am. But I was sane enough to shoot Gifford out the +first chance I had of ridding the paper of him.</p> + +<p>"You sent him to me with a yard of testimonial," growled Ebenezer Brown.</p> + +<p>"Diplomacy, my dear sir. I never make an enemy unless I find myself +compelled to do so in self-defence. You needed a new sub-editor, I a new +reporter, and I merely shuffled the cards and dealt them again. In your +case Gifford seems to have proved a success."</p> + +<p>"How do you know that?" asked the old man, rudely.</p> + +<p>"You are anxious to promote him."</p> + +<p>"On your recommendation. 'A brilliant journalist' you called him," cried +Ebenezer Brown.</p> + +<p>"And he has been with you six months. Surely you know him by this time?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you know a better," suggested the old man.</p> + +<p>"I know few worse, and I know one man the very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> man for 'The Observer'; +but I doubt if he will come to you," said the editor.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" asked Ebenezer Brown.</p> + +<p>"Because you sweat your employes. No man but O'Connor would have worked +as editor for the pittance you paid him. Cairns certainly will require a +fair salary and a free hand before he gives 'The Observer' a chance."</p> + +<p>Ebenezer Brown recognised the truth of what the editor said. His chief +regret was that Michael O'Connor had not lived for ever. However, after +prolonged negotiations, he accepted Cairns on the latter's own terms.</p> + +<p>It was another matter, however, when the editor demanded a more capable +lieutenant than Gifford. Here he found Ebenezer Brown inexorable, for +the sub-editor was linked to him by the triple bonds of flattery, +usefulness, and influence. He made it a rule to regard Ebenezer's every +action as perfection; outside the office he assisted the old man in his +business affairs; and he brought influence to bear in buttressing his +position against the assaults of his chief. The consequence was that he +remained as nominal sub-editor, while Cairns deputed Desmond O'Connor to +do the work. Gifford, recognising the slight, bore his chief and +subordinate no love, but, being unable to injure Cairns, bent himself to +take his revenge from the reporter.</p> + +<p>It was in his power to make his subordinate's life unpleasant, and this +he accomplished to the utmost limit of his capability. But he was not +satisfied with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> this; his purpose in life was to ruin Desmond. He sowed +the seeds of dislike in Ebenezer Brown's mind—an easy thing to +accomplish when one was so careless as Desmond O'Connor.</p> + +<p>Sketches he left lying about, and verses of poetry which were like +pointed barbs in the flesh of Ebenezer Brown. But when the old man +turned to Cairns suggesting the dismissal of the reporter, he received +small encouragement from the editor.</p> + +<p>"O'Connor is careless; I grant that. He is still a boy, and he acts on +impulses, often mistaken ones. He is very clever with his pencil, and +does not care a hang whom he caricatures. He has even had the cheek to +sketch me. I saw it.</p> + +<p>"And me, too," growled Ebenezer.</p> + +<p>"I saw that, too. I suppose Gifford exhibited it to you?" said Cairns.</p> + +<p>"Never mind how I saw it. It is impudence, insubordination, +ingratitude," replied the old man.</p> + +<p>"Hem!" coughed the editor, dubiously.</p> + +<p>"Look what his father owed to me."</p> + +<p>"And you to O'Connor," suggested Cairns. "I should put the ingratitude +on one side. O'Connor can go if you like, and I shall also retire."</p> + +<p>"Oh, nonsense, Cairns! You have a good billet cried Ebenezer.</p> + +<p>"No better than I deserve, I assure you. The long and short of it is +that I will not allow the petty jealousy of Gifford to deprive me of an +invaluable assistant. This is an ultimatum<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>."</p> + +<p>Ebenezer Brown retired, grumbling to himself, while Cairns sought +Desmond O'Connor.</p> + +<p>"You are a hopeless young dog," he said, picking up a sketch. "A +racehorse! I presume you bet?"</p> + +<p>"Just a trifle now and again," replied the reporter, carelessly. "I won +a tenner over that horse."</p> + +<p>"Knowing the prejudices of your chief, I am surprised at you. Ebenezer +Brown detests racehorses."</p> + +<p>"It runs in the blood, sir. My father was worse than I. He would have +owned this paper but for a horse and jockey. The horse would have won +the Melbourne Cup but that it did not fall in with the jockey's plans. +The governor turned to Ebenezer Brown for assistance, and mortgaged 'The +Observer,' The old man should be eternally grateful to racehorses."</p> + +<p>"And here am I for ever fighting your battles. Why don't you help me? If +Ebenezer Brown knows that you gamble, he will shoot you out," +remonstrated Cairns.</p> + +<p>"He knew the governor's besetting sin, and never so much as remonstrated +with him," said Desmond.</p> + +<p>"Because your father was invaluable to him, and cheap, neither of which +qualifications you possess. There is another matter against you—in +fact, several other matters. You dabble in theatricals."</p> + +<p>Desmond O'Connor laughed.</p> + +<p>"Do you object to theatricals?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Not in the least, excepting from a humanitarian point of view. My only +charge against your company<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> is that you contemplate the mutilation of +'As You Like It.'"</p> + +<p>"Better to aim high," suggested Desmond O'Connor, "than to be content +with second-rate melodrama. We have a capable instructor, and we are +very humble, I assure you. Our attitude is one of deprecation; be +merciful our prayer."</p> + +<p>"Do you deserve mercy," asked the editor, "rendering none? But let that +pass. You at least, I am told, are among the passable players. But +Ebenezer Brown abhors plays and players; he detests billiards and cards; +strong drink is anathema to him. How can you expect to keep your +position—an actor, a billiard player, exponent of bridge, and one who +shouts and is shouted?"</p> + +<p>"I can only rely upon your support. All these things are harmless," said +the reporter.</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly harmless in moderation. But the owner of this paper regards +horses, cards and billiards merely as media for gambling; he cannot +discriminate between cards as a pleasant relaxation and as a method for +playing 'beggar my neighbour.' Plays and strong drink he associates with +other vices. If you were a good and prudent young man, you would hide +your vices under a pious exterior—for home consumption."</p> + +<p>"Hypocrisy!" cried Desmond O'Connor. "I would rather be anything than a +hypocrite. What right has old Ebenezer Brown to come dictating to me and +preaching piety? Have you heard his history?"</p> + +<p>"Snatches of it," said Cairns. "It is the history of many other +successful men."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p><p>"He is a robber, a mere bird of prey. He has built on the ruins of +widows and orphans.' The whole town knows what he is, and he deceives no +man, excepting Gifford and himself. Does he expect to deceive the +Almighty?"</p> + +<p>A sound behind them, half a cry and half a curse, caused the two men to +turn towards the door. There stood Ebenezer Brown, his accustomed pallor +changed to an unhealthy purple.</p> + +<p>"Go!" he cried, barely able to articulate the word in his rage, as he +pointed an attenuated finger towards the door. "You are an insubordinate +young dog! Go at once!"</p> + +<p>"One minute, Mr. Brown. I warned you that no one should dismiss my +subordinates but I. If O'Connor goes, I follow him."</p> + +<p>"As you please," gasped the old man. "There are others as clever as you, +and infinitely less expensive. You ungrateful young scapegrace!" he +added, turning on Desmond, "I have been a friend to you and to your +family. But for me you would have starved."</p> + +<p>With this he stalked out of the office, leaving the other men smiling +broadly in each other's faces at this outburst of impotent rage.</p> + +<p>"I am a stubborn sort of person," said Cairns, "and I rather like this +locality. Shall we stay in Grey Town and fight him?"</p> + +<p>Desmond eyed his superior with an unaffected surprise.</p> + +<p>"Fight him? But how?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Come round to me to-night—no, to-morrow night,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> young man. I must see +one or two men of business in the town. After my interviews we will +discuss the best means of fighting Ebenezer."</p> + +<p>"Shall we take the old man at his word, and leave him in the lurch? Do +you think he could run 'The Observer' for himself?" asked Desmond.</p> + +<p>"No, Desmond; here I stay until he finds a successor. I love the old +'Observer,' and I am responsible for it while I remain on the staff. +After I go, I may take my revenge out of the ancient sinner."</p> + +<p>That day the work proceeded as usual. During the course of it a man came +into the office and asked for Desmond O'Connor. He was a big man, with a +good-humoured, ugly face, surmounted by curly black hair. He was tanned +by the sun, and his blue-grey Irish eyes peeped out from the +reddish-brown surroundings of his face. He had a determined mouth and +chin, a jaw that spoke of a struggle with the world, and of success in +that battle.</p> + +<p>"You are O'Connor?" he asked Desmond when he appeared. "I am Quirk, the +long lost and recently returned. Did Miss O'Connor speak of me?"</p> + +<p>"She did," replied Desmond, "and of your adventures. Could you favour me +with a brief recital of your career?"</p> + +<p>"For copy? No, my lad; I am reserving that for my own paper. Any chance +for another paper here?" he asked, casually.</p> + +<p>"You had better not ask me. I am still an employe of The Observer.'"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p><p>"Still? Do you anticipate a move?" asked Quirk, leaning half over the +counter.</p> + +<p>"I do. I have my marching orders."</p> + +<p>"Been playing up, eh? Well, I was a holy terror at your age. I made the +old dad's life a torment to him, and sowed a bushel of grey hairs in the +mother's head. Is the boss in?"</p> + +<p>"Cairns? Yes, I think so."</p> + +<p>"Approachable?" asked Quirk.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes," replied Desmond.</p> + +<p>"What sort of forecast to-day—stormy?"</p> + +<p>"Knock at his door, and let him answer for himself."</p> + +<p>"Right. I will see you as I go out."</p> + +<p>He went to the editor's door, and knocked violently. There was no +response, and he knocked again—more violently. Then the door opened +suddenly, and Cairns confronted him in a white fury.</p> + +<p>"Now, what the dickens, sir," cried the editor, "brings your big +battering ram of a fist in contact with my door? Nature provides +earthquakes in these parts without your assistance, you noisy devil!"</p> + +<p>"Who are you shouting at?" answered Quirk, in an equal fury. "Can't a +man tap gently——."</p> + +<p>"Tap gently! What sort of a disturbance happens when you knock loudly? +What do you want with me?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing now. I came to speak to a man, and I find a grizzly bear. Can't +a man who has come from the other side of creation call on a local +celebrity but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> he must have his nose snapped off? Good-day to you, sir!"</p> + +<p>Cairns' sense of the humorous saved the situation. Recovering quickly +from his irritation, he burst into a roar of laughter. This, for the +moment, only added to the other man's indignation.</p> + +<p>"Are you laughing at me, sir?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No, I was laughing at myself. I apologise to you; but you came at a +moment when I was hopelessly busy," replied Cairns.</p> + +<p>Quirk's face relaxed into a grim smile. He regarded the thin, humorous +face of the editor attentively. Satisfied with his survey, he said:</p> + +<p>"Well, I won't bother you just now. I know what it is to be in a tearing +hurry. I ran a newspaper myself in the States; you have to be here, +there, and everywhere to do that. Can't trust to anyone but yourself, +can you?"</p> + +<p>"Not a living soul. But I will give you five minutes if you slip +inside."</p> + +<p>Quirk entered the editor's office, and the door closed. In half an +hour's time it opened again, and the two men came out together.</p> + +<p>"Five minutes!" laughed Quirk as he shook Cairns' hand at the door.</p> + +<p>"You are such a fascinating man that the minutes have slipped away +unnoticed. You will be at my room to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I will. Hard at it, young man?" he asked, with a friendly nod +to Desmond.</p> + +<p>"A twopenny-ha'penny report of a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>twopenny-ha'penny meeting," replied +Desmond, contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"Make it spicy; touch it up with a little humour. That's the way to make +journalism attractive. Cover a commonplace incident with the mantle of +merriment, and make the world laugh. Lord, how we love a good honest +laugh!"</p> + +<p>With this he went briskly out of the office, and Desmond turned to his +task with a renewed interest. There was a point here and a sentence +there that might be made humorous. When the speakers read his report of +what they had spoken, they discovered that there was, after all, a +latent wit in them hitherto quite unsuspected. Those who had been +privileged to hear them discovered that remarks had been made at which +they had laughed, and that the speakers were not such prosy old fossils +as they had suspected.</p> + +<p>"That man Quirk knows the secret of the new journalism," said Cairns to +Desmond. "It is not truth, or even a make-believe truth; it is to arouse +your readers' interest. Tickle them with humour; stuff them with the +sensational; let everything be brand-new. We will make the old +'Observer' gallop to beat us."</p> + +<p>Desmond raised his eyebrows and waited to hear more, but Cairns turned +on his heel, saying:</p> + +<p>"In a short time I may satisfy your curiosity, O'Connor; but there's a +lot to be done first."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>READJUSTMENT.</h3> + +<p>For weeks after Denis Quirk's homecoming Kathleen O'Connor was uncertain +as to her feeling towards him.</p> + +<p>He was ugly and abrupt, somewhat inquisitive, with none of those gentler +qualities that we term polish. He spoke his mind, and spoke it bluntly, +regardless of the feelings of others. Self-reliant and perfectly +satisfied with himself, he sometimes irritated the girl to the verge of +anger. But he was rarely angry, or, if he blazed out into sudden +passion, returned speedily to his customary imperturbability, and he was +always humorous. His mother he worshipped, and with her he was gentle as +a woman; his father he jested with in an affectionate manner. Kathleen +realised that he was a good son, while she resented his attitude to +herself. His abrupt questions, his curious searching looks led her to +believe that he was for ever testing her to discover the strength and +weakness of her character. This caused the girl to adopt an attitude of +defence, and to meet his inquisitive questions with replies that almost +bordered on discourtesy.</p> + +<p>Just a fortnight after his arrival, as she sat writing in the +breakfast-room at Layton, pausing now and again to watch the gambols of +Mrs. Quirk's Persian<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> kitten, Denis Quirk marched into the room. He +picked up the kitten, and seated himself with it near the door.</p> + +<p>"Writing?" he asked, abruptly.</p> + +<p>His manner of questioning her, indicating to her mind a desire to know +as to whom and of what she was writing, aroused an immediate resentment +in the girl.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am," she answered, shortly.</p> + +<p>He smiled at her manifest annoyance, and continued to play with the +kitten.</p> + +<p>"Fire away then and get it all off your chest," he said.</p> + +<p>Kathleen felt that writing was an impossibility under the circumstances, +but she was determined that he should not recognise her embarrassment. +Her nib flew relentlessly over the sheets, but the letter was +disconnected and dry. At last she gathered her writing materials +together, and rose to leave the room.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Never mind that," she replied. "I have never been asked to give an +account of my actions, and I do not intend to."</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk smiled yet more broadly. It was evident that her irritation +amused him. This did not make her the better pleased.</p> + +<p>"Sit down and talk to me," he suggested.</p> + +<p>"I have other and better things to do," she answered.</p> + +<p>He whistled the long-drawn note of surprise. His chair was across the +door, but he made no attempt to move it.</p> + +<p>"Angry?" he asked.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p><p>"Will you please move your chair?" she replied.</p> + +<p>"Why should I? I am quite comfortable. Just sit down for five minutes +and talk about the old people. I have any number of questions to ask +you," he said.</p> + +<p>"You always have; but I have no time to answer them. Please move your +chair."</p> + +<p>"Do you always have your own way?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Always—with gentlemen," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Then you shall have it this once with Denis Quirk, who neither +professes nor has the slightest wish to be—a gentleman."</p> + +<p>He rose and put his chair on one side.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said, as he held the door open for her. But, while she +went up the stairs to Mrs. Quirk's room, the eternal question was +repeating itself to her: "What do you think of this man?"</p> + +<p>She found old Mrs. Quirk in her room, arranging a series of photos. +There was Denis from infancy until the period when he had left his +home—ugly, but smiling from infancy to manhood.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of Denis? Isn't he grown into a fine man, and as full +of fun as if he were a boy? And doesn't he love his old mother?" asked +the fond old mother.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't he?" asked Kathleen. "I love her as if she were my own +mother."</p> + +<p>"God bless you, child. I believe you do. Did you see what he has brought +me? Brooches and shawls! But what good is jewellery to me? You must take +them."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p><p>"No, no!" cried Kathleen, hastily. "You must keep them for Mr. Quirk's +wife."</p> + +<p>A smile lit up the old lady's face as she looked at the brooch in her +hand and then at Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"I just will do that same," she said.</p> + +<p>A peremptory knock at the door, and Denis himself entered. He smiled as +he noted the array of photographs.</p> + +<p>"Which is the uglier," he asked Kathleen, "the picture or the original? +Fire away, mother, and tell Miss O'Connor every detail of my life. Cut +my first tooth when I was seven days old; spoke—or did I swear—at +three months, fought my first fight on my first birthday, and I've been +fighting ever since."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Denis, Denis, you are as much an omadhaun as ever," sighed Mrs. +Quirk. "But he was a fine boy, Kathleen!"</p> + +<p>"And into a fine man he has grown, mother!" laughed Denis. "But what +could you expect with such a mother? Father alive, Miss O'Connor?"</p> + +<p>The abruptness of the question was quite disconcerting to Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"No," she replied; "my father is dead."</p> + +<p>"Sorry I asked," said Denis.</p> + +<p>"God rest his soul! They do say he was a great man; but what could you +expect, and him an O'Connor?" said Mrs. Quirk.</p> + +<p>"Hem!" began Denis, but he checked himself and asked: "Any relations +living, Miss O'Connor?"</p> + +<p>"There's her brother Desmond, as handsome as herself," said Mrs. Quirk.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p><p>"Anything like me? But that's not to be expected. Where does he work?"</p> + +<p>"My brother is a reporter at 'The Observer' office," replied Kathleen. +Had it not been for Mrs. Quirk's presence she would have checked his +questions once and for all.</p> + +<p>"I must look him up to-day. I start operations in Grey Town this +afternoon. Did it ever strike you that this place needs stirring up? +It's been sleeping ever since it was born. I have come here to make +things hum, I tell you that."</p> + +<p>Kathleen laughed at the thought of Grey Town humming. All her life she +had known it as a gentle, quiet town, to which excitement was unknown +and undesired.</p> + +<p>"What do you intend to do?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Everything," he answered. "See here, in twelve months' time you will +scarcely know Grey Town. There will be squalls, of course, and plenty of +fighting. But when I get to work I'll make the old place boom. Ran a +paper in the States, and divided the town into friends and enemies. I +was just over the last libel action brought against 'The Firebrand' by +the last enemy on my list when I sold out. The paper went like wildfire, +and the town all but doubled itself in my time. Nothing like a little +mustard and pepper if you want to make things go."</p> + +<p>"I prophesy that Grey Town will subdue even you. This is a very sleepy +atmosphere. No man remains vigorous for over six months; you will soon +be slumbering like the rest of us."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p><p>"I shall be dead first," he answered. "You don't know me."</p> + +<p>"Nor you Grey Town. You are not our first reformer; we have had numbers +of them, and we have destroyed them without remorse," said Kathleen.</p> + +<p>From the window of the room they could look across fields now green in +the freshness of early summer, across the racecourse and park, to where +Grey Town climbed irregularly towards St. Mary's Church. There it lay, a +town whose streets were only partly made; where sanitation had halted in +its most primitive stages; where little attempt had been made to assist +the beauties of nature. Yet Grey Town was, in the distance, a pretty +spot, embowered in green trees, the blue smoke resting over it, and in +the distance the great blue ocean. Large buildings and small hovels, +well-cared for gardens and filthy back yards, imposing factories and +dilapidated shops—there was surely work here for an energetic reformer. +But Kathleen knew the strength of vested rights, the strength of +contented indolence; above all, the bitter tongue of scandal that was +ever ready to destroy a prophet. Others had fought with Grey Town and +failed; why not Denis Quirk?</p> + +<p>"No," he answered, reading her thoughts. "Grey Town has been waiting for +me, and to-morrow I start on Grey Town. See here! This town should be a +city. We need a few more cities, and Grey Town shall be one of the +first. Given half a dozen factories and an improved system of +railways——."</p> + +<p>"Factories!" laughed Kathleen, her eyes straying <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>towards the town and +its open sea-front, where only a small peninsula of rock protected the +bay from the south-west gales. "You are dreaming, Mr. Quirk?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing is impossible nowadays. Why no factories in Grey Town? Shall +Melbourne possess all the good things? Let us provide for ourselves and +for other people, and bring money to the town. Factories Grey Town must +have to make agricultural implements, to turn our wool into blankets, +our wheat into flour, our milk into butter. Factories and an up-to-date +paper."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Quirk had listened in a dazed manner to this conversation. It +delighted her to sit and listen to her son, just as it did on those rare +occasions when her husband talked to her. But she never quite realised +what the topic under discussion was, although she nodded or shook her +head as she believed was necessary to the occasion.</p> + +<p>"Another paper?" cried Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"And why not?" asked Mrs. Quirk. "Denis knows what he is saying and +doing. Why not another paper if Denis wants it? And what colour would it +be, Denis?"</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk laughed heartily at his mother's misapprehension, but he +threw his arm around her and stooped to kiss her.</p> + +<p>"Black and white," he replied; "a newspaper, old lady, up to date and +go-ahead, like the old 'Firebrand.'" Then he turned again to Kathleen. +"You don't know me," he said. "You imagine I am nothing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> better than a +talker; just wait for three months before you judge me."</p> + +<p>Therewith he swung out of the room. A few minutes later Kathleen saw him +striding rapidly down the avenue on his way towards Grey Town. But she +had other things to do besides thinking of Denis Quirk. No sooner was he +out of sight than she had settled Mrs. Quirk comfortably in an +easy-chair on the balcony, and was reading to the old lady until the +latter fell into a peaceful sleep.</p> + +<p>It was a quiet and monotonous life for a young girl. Mrs. Quirk was now +so dependent upon her that she must have Kathleen always by her side. +This was not due to selfishness on the old lady's part. She did not +understand that young people need a certain amount of amusement and +pleasure to make their lives complete. Kathleen, being wholly unselfish +in her nature, considered it her sole duty to look after the old lady. +Mr. Quirk, too, had made Kathleen his secretary and accountant. When she +was not with Mrs. Quirk, the girl was generally to be found surrounded +by accounts and business letters.</p> + +<p>It was thus that Denis Quirk found her on his return from the town.</p> + +<p>"Do you ever go out?" he asked her, imperatively.</p> + +<p>"Every day," she answered.</p> + +<p>"To theatres and dances?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I have no time for such frivolities," she answered, laughingly. "I am a +working woman now, with every moment occupied."</p> + +<p>"Pshaw!" he answered, impatiently. "You need<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> readjusting; you all need +readjusting. Life was never intended to be a mere drudgery."</p> + +<p>At tea—the Quirks still clung to the old scheme of meals of the +Collingwood days—as they sat around the large table, he suddenly asked +his father:</p> + +<p>"Why don't you buy a motor, Dad?"</p> + +<p>Samuel Quirk glared at his son for some moments in speechless surprise. +Then he answered:</p> + +<p>"What would I be doing with a motor?"</p> + +<p>"Enjoying the beauties of Australia, and giving the mother a little +pleasure," replied Denis.</p> + +<p>"Pleasure! I would die in a motor," cried Mrs. Quirk.</p> + +<p>"Just as well die there as in a phaeton. If you once ride in a motor, +you will never ride in anything else, unless it's an aeroplane. If the +Dad doesn't buy you a motor, I will."</p> + +<p>"A motor! What would the boys say to see me in a motor?" growled Samuel +Quirk.</p> + +<p>"Confound the boys! If the boys object to a motor, they are fools. +Motors mean the circulation of money. What is the difference between a +motor and a house, a motor and a horse, a motor and a coat? Don't they +all represent money to the working man? Don't bother yourself about the +boys, or the jackasses either!"</p> + +<p>Already there were signs of political differences between father and +son. Samuel Quirk had clung to his Labour political creed all his life; +now, in his time of prosperity, he refused to resign his early +principles. Denis, a Democrat at heart, was something of a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>freelance, +inclined to tilt indiscriminately at both parties. This, however, was +the first occasion since his homecoming on which he had openly opposed +his father, and Samuel Quirk resented it.</p> + +<p>"I have two legs to travel on, and they are good enough for me," he +growled.</p> + +<p>"Just hear him, and he calls himself a Progressive. It's a Conservative +he is. Where's the use of science, if you refuse to make use of its +gifts?" cried Denis.</p> + +<p>Kathleen recognised that Denis was irritating his father and grieving +his mother, not of intention, but simply because he did not realise that +Samuel Quirk could not tolerate opposition.</p> + +<p>"Well, I have a proposal to make. You shall hire a motor," she +suggested. "Mr. Quirk and Granny shall ride in it, and see how they like +it. Then, perhaps, Mr. Quirk may be induced to buy one."</p> + +<p>"Never!" growled Samuel Quirk. "Them noisy, dusty, smelling inventions +of the——!"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" cried Mrs. Quirk. "The devil never invented anything good."</p> + +<p>"And where's the good of them?" asked her husband.</p> + +<p>"They make a long and hard journey short and pleasant. But Miss O'Connor +is right. You shall try what a motor is like, and if you don't take to +it I will buy one for the mother myself," said Denis.</p> + +<p>It was an exciting moment in the house when he drove up the following +day in a large car. Mrs. Quirk, if very nervous, was anxious to +experience the new sensation of travelling in a motor; Kathleen was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +keenly desirous that Denis' plan might succeed; Samuel Quirk feigned +contempt and indifference, but he was in his heart as excited as his +wife.</p> + +<p>"Now, come along, mother, and you, too, Miss O'Connor. Will you try a +short spin, Dad?" said Denis.</p> + +<p>Samuel Quirk strolled over to and eyed the motor even more +contemptuously than before.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" he asked the chauffeur.</p> + +<p>"That's the throttle," replied the latter.</p> + +<p>"Humph! I suppose you can drive the noisy thing?"</p> + +<p>The chauffeur nodded; he was too insulted to reply in words.</p> + +<p>"Can you stop it?" asked the old man.</p> + +<p>"In a few yards," said Denis. "Step inside, Dad, and see for yourself."</p> + +<p>Grumbling and growling, Samuel Quirk followed his wife and Kathleen into +the tonneau. From the front seat Denis directed the driver.</p> + +<p>"Easy at first, until they find their legs; then intoxicate them with +the sensation of flying," he half whispered.</p> + +<p>To Kathleen it was pure joy from the first; but Mrs. Quirk, and, to tell +the truth, Samuel Quirk, were for half an hour very nervous.</p> + +<p>"Can you stop her?" the latter asked as they flew down a steep hill.</p> + +<p>In answer to the question, the chauffeur brought the car to a +standstill. Thus assured, Samuel Quirk <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>became confident, and before +they returned home he was urging the chauffeur to increased speed.</p> + +<p>"Do you call this fast?" he asked; and when the car began to race along +the road a pleased smile lighted up his face. He even waved his hand +pleasantly to those he passed on the road, and when the car stopped in +front of the house the old man asked the chauffeur:</p> + +<p>"How much do you want for it?"</p> + +<p>"You don't think of buying this old car?" cried Denis. "You want a new +one, and right up to date."</p> + +<p>"Would it go as fast as this one?" asked Samuel Quirk.</p> + +<p>"You shall have one out in a few days and try it."</p> + +<p>Only a fortnight later a large twenty-horse-power car and a chauffeur +were added to the equipment of "Layton." Samuel Quirk was the most +enthusiastic admirer of, and the most frequent passenger in, the car. He +was curious as to the machinery and the method of driving. Probably this +was the most satisfactory thing that his wealth had brought him.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Quirk, too, after her first nervousness, found great pleasure in +the motor; but to Kathleen it was the first of a series of new +enjoyments, for Denis Quirk hurried his mother on from one dissipation +to another—concerts, theatres, even dances. Hesitatingly, Mrs. Quirk +accepted his advice to try them; but, having once found pleasure in the +evident enjoyment they gave Kathleen, she willingly went wherever Denis +advised her. In this way the household at "Layton" received the +necessary readjustment, with excellent results to all the inmates.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>"THE OBSERVER" DIES.</h3> + +<p>Dr. Marsh was in his surgery, skimming the contents of a medical journal +in search of the newer methods of treatment. Now and again he glanced +from the printed pages out of his window at the asphalt path leading +from the gate to his front door, not so much because he expected a +patient as from mere habit. It was an off day in Grey Town, and his +surprise was keen when he chanced to see, not one, but three men +approaching the house.</p> + +<p>It had become a custom with him to scan a patient and diagnose a +complaint at long range, and to subsequently confirm or disprove his +first opinion more intimately at closer quarters. Being a shrewd and +observant man, he not infrequently hit a bull's-eye at the first shot. +Scrutinising the three who were coming up the path, he muttered:</p> + +<p>"Cairns, Desmond O'Connor, and the ugliest beggar I ever saw! But which +is the patient? Cairns has dyspepsia, I swear; Desmond could not be sick +if he tried; the ugly beggar suffers from nothing worse than his face, +and that is a chronic condition."</p> + +<p>Commenting half-audibly in this manner, he hastened to the door and +cried:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p><p>"Are you all patients?"</p> + +<p>Cairns shook his head sorrowfully. "No such luck, doctor! Beyond a +little discomfort after meals, we are hopelessly sound."</p> + +<p>"Are you a deputation, then, come to ask me to represent you in the +Federal Parliament?" asked the doctor.</p> + +<p>"It may come to that," said Cairns. "If Burrows does not speedily do +something for Grey Town, we shall need a new member. May I introduce Mr. +Quirk, a new resident and a live citizen?"</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk and the doctor shook hands, each regarding the other +curiously the while.</p> + +<p>"An insurance agent," said the doctor in the half-audible tone he +sometimes adopted.</p> + +<p>To this the others replied with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"No fear, doctor!" cried Cairns. "Am I the man to take a mean advantage +of you? We have come here to consult you—not professionally, but as one +who knows this district, alive and dead."</p> + +<p>"None better," said Dr. Marsh.</p> + +<p>They followed him into a cosy and orderly surgery, and sat down at his +bidding. For his part, the doctor leaned up against the mantelpiece, one +elbow resting on the marble and one arm free.</p> + +<p>"Now, then, what is it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"We are contemplating a venture," said Denis Quirk—"a newspaper in +opposition to 'The Observer.'"</p> + +<p>Dr. Marsh shook his head emphatically, frowning the while at Denis +Quirk.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p><p>"Mental, decidedly mental," he growled. "You have delusions."</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk laughed uproariously at this remark. The doctor was a man +after his own heart.</p> + +<p>"You don't give it a chance?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Not a thousand to one hope! What do we want with two papers?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely!" cried Denis Quirk. "But supposing we were to shoulder 'The +Observer' out of Grey Town?"</p> + +<p>"Is Cairns a mutineer?" asked the doctor.</p> + +<p>"I am a cast-off. Old Ebenezer Brown has given me marching orders, and I +am looking for a new master," replied Cairns.</p> + +<p>Dr. Marsh's face brightened, for he had a consuming hatred for the owner +of 'The Observer.' Even the faintest hope of wounding Ebenezer Brown was +a reason for joy to him.</p> + +<p>"It might be done?" he said. "Are you a newspaper man?" he asked Denis +Quirk.</p> + +<p>"In the past, and, I hope, in the future. I am tempted to risk a battle +with 'The Observer.' With Cairns and O'Connor, myself, and one or two +others—yourself, for instance, doctor—we might make the old rag +gallop, possibly even beat it, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Stop a minute. Do any of you drink?" asked the doctor.</p> + +<p>The other men shook their heads.</p> + +<p>"Too early," said Cairns. "If we started now, where would we end?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p><p>"Very well, then. Let me have some details before I decide. Who is to +finance the paper?"</p> + +<p>"I shall do that, with your help, if you like, leaving the public to pay +us principal and interest when we have destroyed Ebenezer Brown and his +organ," said Denis Quirk.</p> + +<p>"Cairns will be editor, I suppose?" asked the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Cairns editor, O'Connor a reporter, myself manager, and Tim O'Neill +printer's devil."</p> + +<p>"Tim O'Neill!" laughed the doctor. "Where did you discover that +rapscallion? Molly Healy introduced you to him, I swear."</p> + +<p>"I forgot Molly Healy in mentioning the staff. She is to write a series +of articles dealing with the seamy side of Grey Town life and her +methods of reforming the riff-raff. Yes; it was she who brought Tim to +me. 'Here you are!' she cried. 'Tis the wickedest boy in Grey Town. Make +him something useful, and you will be doing a public service to me and +to the town and district.' I engaged him as printer's devil on that +recommendation."</p> + +<p>After half an hour of facts and figures, the doctor dismissed his +visitors. He was satisfied that this was not an impossible scheme, and +he even went so far as to accept a portion of the financial burden. This +argued well for the newspaper, for the doctor was a shrewd man.</p> + +<p>Ebenezer Brown firmly believed in vested interests when those interests +were his own. Until he was actually faced by "The Mercury," he had +regarded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> opposition to "The Observer" as impossible. When confronted by +the strong staff of Denis Quirk's paper, he at first began to whine over +the treachery of opposition; then he straightened his back to fight.</p> + +<p>Gifford, the sub-editor, had hailed the resignation of Cairns as +promotion to himself; and so it might have proved, but Ebenezer Brown +was far too shrewd to oppose Gifford to Cairns.</p> + +<p>"We must find a new editor," he remarked to the former when the rumour +of opposition reached him.</p> + +<p>Gifford, with a half promise of the editorial chair in his mind, smiled +blandly.</p> + +<p>"You will not forget——," he began.</p> + +<p>"I forget everything," snapped Ebenezer Brown, "when I have to fight. I +am going to Melbourne to find a strong editor. After this opposition is +crushed I intend to sack him and place you in charge," he added more +gently, for he liked Gifford, if he really cared for any man.</p> + +<p>But the fight was not to end so simply and speedily as the old man +imagined. "The Mercury" dawned on Grey Town, strong, cynical, and up to +date. There were initial troubles with the Cable News Agency, but Cairns +managed to adjust these, against the determined opposition of Ebenezer +Brown. Then came splendid days for the advertising public, when both +newspapers brought down their scale of charges to the very lowest price. +Keen, too, was the demand for copy when Desmond O'Connor and his junior +reporter found themselves opposed to men almost as keen as they. Grey +Town fairly throbbed with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>excitement, and daily searched the rival +papers to discover which one had outwitted the other. In the office of +"The Mercury" Denis Quirk and Cairns sat together planning new features +to place their paper in advance of its rival. Their first success was +the nobbling of "The Observer's" senior reporter. For this Tim O'Neil +was responsible.</p> + +<p>Tim was errand boy, printer's devil, and messenger for "The Mercury," +and he firmly believed that the newspaper's success was due to his +exertions. All the ingenuity of which he was capable, the boy employed +on behalf of his employers. When the State member came to Grey Town to +make his election speech, Tim O'Neill recognised an opportunity. It was +a notorious fact that "The Observer's" new reporter was addicted to +drink, and, after reporting the speech in full, he slipped into the +"Royal Hart" Hotel, as was his custom, for a glass of whisky, his +shorthand report in his pocket. After him, cautiously, went Tim O'Neill, +and abstracted his notes from his pocket, substituting for them a +spurious copy. Where Tim had secured this false shorthand report history +does not relate, but they were cleverly done, so like and yet so unlike +the original as to be ridiculous. It was this report that appeared in +"The Observer" next morning. In his fury the editor discharged the chief +reporter, and when he went out to re-engage him found that Cairns had +been before him.</p> + +<p>"Tim O'Neill, you deserve a sound thrashing," said Denis Quirk when he +heard of the boy's escapade. "But your wages are raised, not as an +incentive to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>further crimes, but because you have a future before you. +Do you ever study?"</p> + +<p>"Just a little. Miss Molly is teaching me," said Tim.</p> + +<p>"I must arrange with Burnside to give you a few hours every week. You +will be an editor some day, Tim, if you avoid the rocks," said Denis +Quirk.</p> + +<p>That very day Tim came in to Desmond O'Connor, his face the picture of +anxiety. Noting this, Desmond eyed the youth in surprise: then he burst +out in a shout of laughter.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing that for?" asked Tim, furiously.</p> + +<p>"I never saw you so melancholy before, Tim. What particular sin have you +committed? Or have you lost a far-distant cousin? Confess your guilt, +Tim."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you think you're funny?" cried Tim. "I've half a mind to go +and give myself to 'The Observer,' and ruin this blessed old paper."</p> + +<p>Desmond O'Connor's shout of laughter brought Cairns from his room, +anxious to share the joke.</p> + +<p>"Let us have it at once," he cried. "In this strenuous life a joke is +too precious an event to be wasted. Who made it, you or Tim?"</p> + +<p>"Tim is acquiring a high sense of humour," said Desmond. "Tell Mr. +Cairns your awful threat, Tim."</p> + +<p>"Yah!" cried Tim, vindictively, "I'll tell Mr. Cairns what I came to +tell you, and leave you to wish you knew it."</p> + +<p>Therewith he drew the editor into his room, and closed the doors +carefully.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p><p>"They're going to strike, sir, on both papers, for higher wages," he +said in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Who do you mean, Imp?" asked Cairns, addressing the boy by the name he +had especially devised for him.</p> + +<p>"The compositors. To-night they're going out to stop both papers."</p> + +<p>"Tim O'Neill, you are a perfect mine of information. Providence was +determined to bless 'The Mercury' when it sent us Tim O'Neill. Just run +away now and ask Mr. Quirk if I can see him."</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk was at once a diplomatic and a determined man. On hearing +the newest development, he hurried away to interview the prospective +strikers.</p> + +<p>"Lay your grievances before me," he said. "If I can put them right with +justice to the proprietors of this paper, it shall be done."</p> + +<p>It was the usual story—higher wages and shorter hours, a larger staff, +better paid, with less work to do individually. Denis Quirk offered a +compromise, but this was refused. After half an hour's discussion, he +suddenly broke out into a white heat of anger.</p> + +<p>"Do you fancy I can't do without you?" he cried.</p> + +<p>The men replied with a burst of ironical laughter.</p> + +<p>"I began life as a compositor, and I have not forgotten my trade," he +said. "You can go, every one of you that wants more. But 'The Mercury' +will appear to-morrow, take my tip for that."</p> + +<p>Sullenly the men withdrew, to hang about outside the office, watching to +see who would take their places.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> But no one came from outside, while in +the printing room all was bustle.</p> + +<p>"Now, throw off your coats," cried Denis Quirk, "every one of you. You +too, Cairns, and do what I tell you. You, Tim O'Neill, take this +telegram to the post office. We will have a new staff to-morrow, and men +I can rely upon."</p> + +<p>In this way "The Mercury" was printed under the greatest difficulties, +but the rival newspaper failed to appear. Ebenezer Brown was stubborn, +and when his editor brought him the news of the threatened strike he +refused to concede anything.</p> + +<p>"Not one penny more, and not one second less, will they get from me. Let +them strike," he growled.</p> + +<p>"But you must come to terms," said the editor. "You can't afford to miss +one issue of 'The Observer.'"</p> + +<p>"I am paying fair wages, and they may fish for a rise," replied Ebenezer +Brown.</p> + +<p>The following day, like its rival, "The Observer" was manned again and +working smoothly, but its prestige was hopelessly impaired. +Thenceforward "The Mercury" advanced daily at the expense of the older +paper, until, six weeks after the beginning of the campaign, Ebenezer +Brown went to Denis Quirk to effect a compromise.</p> + +<p>Denis was sitting in his shirt-sleeves, his collar off and neckband +loosened, when Ebenezer Brown entered.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Mr. Brown. I will attend to you in five minutes. We are so +confoundedly busy that I must put this through at once."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p><p>Ebenezer Brown mumbled something inarticulate and sat down, watching +the pile of papers on the desk in front of the man he hated. After a few +minutes Denis Quirk swung round on the office stool to face him.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, what is it?" he asked. "An advertisement or an obituary +notice of 'The Observer?'"</p> + +<p>Ebenezer Brown was rendered speechless with indignation for the moment.</p> + +<p>"I didn't come here to be insulted," he growled.</p> + +<p>"Then why did you come? Haven't you been throwing insults at me from the +columns of your rag these six weeks past? A man doesn't walk into the +lion's den to have his hand licked by the lion."</p> + +<p>"And how have you treated me?" cried Ebenezer Brown. "First you stole my +reporter's copy, then you stole my reporter."</p> + +<p>"Stole, sir!" Denis Quirk rang his bell, and Desmond O'Connor entered. +"Kindly take down this gentleman's words, Desmond. Now, Mr. Brown, +please repeat your statement."</p> + +<p>"You are an unscrupulous person!" growled the old man.</p> + +<p>"You have that down, Desmond? Continue, Mr. Brown," said Denis Quirk.</p> + +<p>"Robber! Forger!" cried the old man, roused to fury. "You have neither +manners nor honesty."</p> + +<p>Therewith he rose and rushed into the street, and the burst of laughter +that he heard as he went did not tend to make him better pleased or +satisfied.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p><p>"Do you intend to prosecute?" asked Desmond O'Connor.</p> + +<p>"Prosecute! No, my lad, I only defend actions for libel. If he had used +every term of reproach in every dictionary, I would not be tempted to a +prosecution. I am highly flattered. It proves that I have succeeded in +making the old man uncomfortable, and satisfies me. Just write a +humorous sketch on the little skirmish, but don't give any names. The +town will understand who is the principal character if you manage your +article dexterously and with humour. Bring it to me to touch up when the +sketch is completed."</p> + +<p>For two weeks longer "The Observer" struggled on; then Ebenezer Brown +sent an intermediary, in the person of a lawyer, to make terms.</p> + +<p>"There is only one possible arrangement—"The Observer" goes out," said +Quirk. "How much does Ebenezer Brown ask?"</p> + +<p>"His proposal is to buy 'The Mercury,'" replied the messenger.</p> + +<p>"Hopeless! I have started 'The Mercury' as a financial investment and +something more. It is to be a literary battery to galvanise Grey Town +into energy. I really don't care a hang for 'The Observer.' That organ +is dying rapidly; in a few weeks it will be dead. But I am prepared to +pay for a more speedy ending to a useless life," replied Denis Quirk.</p> + +<p>"How would a limited proprietary suit you?" asked the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"With Ebenezer as a shareholder? Impossible! 'The Mercury' intends to +shoot at old Eb. and his sort.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> These are the men who are holding back +the wheels of progress. He is a landlord who keeps his premises in a +shocking state, charges big rents, refuses to make repairs, refuses to +build, opposes reasonable rates, and holds one half of the council under +his domination. Ebenezer Brown represents stagnation and corruption, the +last things I intend to countenance."</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell him your objection?" laughed the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"If it will encourage him to prosecute for libel, I say yes; but you may +use your own discretion. Tell him I will buy 'The Observer' right out +for a sum to be settled by arbitration—buy it out or destroy it."</p> + +<p>Thus did it come to pass that "The Observer" disappeared into oblivion, +and in its place came that fiery paper, "The Mercury," respecter of +neither person nor position.</p> + +<p>It was "The Mercury" that first breathed on the smouldering ashes of +municipal discontent, and roused the ratepayers of Grey Town to organise +for protection and advancement. Thus was accomplished the first act in a +drama, and thus was fought the initial battle of a long and fierce +campaign.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>JOHN GERARD.</h3> + +<p>Cairns and Denis Quirk were working post haste in "The Mercury" office. +"We must make 'The Mercury' a go-ahead, up-to-date paper," said Cairns.</p> + +<p>"That's it, my man," replied Denis Quirk.</p> + +<p>"We want to consider our readers' amusements," said Cairns.</p> + +<p>"Tickle them, and make them laugh, and they will put their arms round +the old 'Mercury's' neck and love her," cried Denis.</p> + +<p>"Racing is the first and most important amusement in Australia. You need +a sporting editor."</p> + +<p>"Good old Cairns! With you and Tim O'Neill I have the finest stuff in +Victoria. A sporting editor you shall have, sonny. What about Desmond +O'Connor?"</p> + +<p>Cairns shook his head doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't stand it," he answered. "He's too fond of Dame Chance already, +and inclined to be one of the good-natured 'have-a-drink-with-me' crowd. +Desmond needs watching."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what he wants—to get right away from here, and fight the +world alone," said Denis.</p> + +<p>"You and I," cried Cairns, "are the men to found<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> a new party with a new +Australian policy. Mere parochialism must go, sir, if Australia is to +have a destiny. I have my eye upon Desmond as a disciple."</p> + +<p>"Don't hurry, Cairns. Reform Grey Town first, then turn your mind to +Australia. There is plenty to be done here. Have you prepared that +article on the municipal omissions?"</p> + +<p>Cairns handed a proof to Denis Quirk, and the latter ran his eye over +it.</p> + +<p>"Good!" he cried, approvingly. "Slash it into them! 'Too much of a hole +and corner system.' 'Too many surprises sprung upon a too-confiding +public.' That's the way to make things hum. I must give Wilde a retainer +to defend us in our libel actions. I see them coming, Cairns. To-morrow +rake it into Ebenezer Brown for the state of his premises in Chester +Street; on Saturday draw attention to the insanitary condition of the +best residential part of the town. Keep things moving, and we will make +Grey Town a live community. Then we will turn our attention to +Australia."</p> + +<p>Now, the first sporting editor of "The Mercury" was a handsome man, +clean-shaven and well-dressed, who presented himself to Denis Quirk in +answer to an advertisement in a Melbourne paper.</p> + +<p>"Mr. James Gerard," read Cairns from the card that Tim O'Neill handed to +him that morning. "Have you any idea who Mr. Gerard is?"</p> + +<p>"He says he's 'Trafalgar,' sir; not the battle, sir, but the horse. I +fancy he's dotty, Mr. Cairns; he looks more like a donkey than a horse."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p><p>"Show him in to Mr. Quirk; I have no time for lunatics," said Cairns.</p> + +<p>Mr. James Gerard was accordingly shown into the managers' room. Denis +Quirk was at the moment preparing a speech, for he had already decided +to contest a vacancy on the council. He received his visitor abruptly.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I am 'Trafalgar;' perhaps you have heard of me," said the newcomer.</p> + +<p>"Never!" replied Denis.</p> + +<p>"Hem! I thought you might have seen my nom de plume in the 'Sporting +Chronicle.'"</p> + +<p>"Never heard of it. What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"You advertised for a sporting editor. I have come after the place."</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything about horses?" asked Denis.</p> + +<p>"No one better; I have studied them all my life," replied Gerard.</p> + +<p>"That doesn't say you can write about them. How much do you ask?"</p> + +<p>"Salary is no object to me. Racing is my hobby. I have an income of my +own, and I write as an employment and a pleasure."</p> + +<p>"If you come to me you will have to accept a salary, much as it may pain +you. You will be a servant, and do exactly as I ask. Are you prepared +for that?" said the manager.</p> + +<p>"Naturally! Why would I be here if I were not prepared for that?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p><p>"Very well, then. You will begin at £4 a week, to be increased if you +suit us; if you don't suit, out you go. When are you prepared to begin?"</p> + +<p>"To-day, if you like."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow you can go to Melton and report the meeting. See that you are +spicy; we expect spice on this paper."</p> + +<p>"Trafalgar's" first report did not satisfy the manager.</p> + +<p>"See here, Mr. Gerard," he said, entering the outer office, where +"Trafalgar" was already fraternising with Desmond O'Connor, "'The +Mercury' is out to put down fraud and hypocrisy wherever it is to be +found. I sent you to Melton to draw public attention to irregularities. +Why did Caprice run last in the Melton Cup?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite fit," replied the sporting editor glibly. "I was talking to +Carter——."</p> + +<p>"Talking to her trainer and asking his opinion! That's not what we want +here. Last week Caprice started at 6 to 4 on and won the Welter Handicap +at Balnogan; yesterday she was quoted at 5 to 1, and ran last in the +Melton Cup. Sit down and mention those two facts together, leaving the +readers to draw their own deductions, as I do."</p> + +<p>"Are you looking for libel actions?" asked "Trafalgar," innocently.</p> + +<p>"Not looking for them, but quite prepared for them in a just cause. Did +you read my speech last night?"</p> + +<p>"I have not found time," stammered the sporting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> editor, while Desmond +O'Connor sat listening with a broad smile on his face.</p> + +<p>"Oblige me by reading it. It represents my policy, and the policy of +this paper. We call a spade a spade on 'The Mercury.' Just read that +speech, and then sit down and write about Caprice. You can mention the +running of Bailiff in the Hurdles at the same time. If the stewards +won't do their duty, 'The Mercury' will point it out to them."</p> + +<p>In this manner was Gerard introduced to the policy of Denis Quirk and +his paper. He was, however, a smart man, quite capable of grasping a +situation when it was demonstrated to him. In a few weeks' time the +clever division began to read the accounts of their acts of brigandage +with fear and trembling; obsequious stewards became more alert, and less +timid in dealing with glaring acts of fraud, while threats were openly +indulged in, and actions for libel suggested. But Denis Quirk and his +paper went on their prescribed course, regardless of threats, and +awaiting libel actions that failed to come.</p> + +<p>There was no lack of excitement in Grey Town in those days. Men did not +go about wearily, and sigh because there was nothing in the papers. +There were times of stress and battle in the town when Denis Quirk and +"The Mercury" fought with sloth, indifference, and vested interests; +times when he was rarely at home with the old people, because he had +many and important things to do, to say, and to write about in the town.</p> + +<p>But Gerard dropped quietly into a position of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>family friend and +confidential adviser at "Layton." He was introduced by Denis Quirk, and, +being a man of comparative leisure, it became his habit to spend a part +of his leisure at the house, and to accompany Mrs. Quirk and Kathleen +O'Connor when they went out to find amusement. To this Denis Quirk +readily assented, for he was more at ease among the men and women who +worked than among those who played. Desmond O'Connor, too, was +shouldering the burden of stern responsibility, and someone had to look +after Mrs. Quirk and Kathleen. Who could better do this than Gerard, a +harmless and pleasant man in Denis Quirk's eyes?</p> + +<p>This was the first male friendship of Kathleen O'Connor. Here was a man +who told her the history of his lifetime, not discursively, but in +fragments dropped here and there. There is pleasure, entertainment, and +pathos in every man's life, no matter who he may be. Gerard had lived +more adventurously than many others. He was a man who could make love +charmingly, one who had been liberally educated. There were many +pleasing reminiscences, many sad incidents in his past, and he had a +happy method of speaking of such events.</p> + +<p>This is the manner in which love sometimes comes to man and woman, not, +as it is often pictured, as a sudden passion, but slowly and in stages. +Gerard loved easily and lightly; he had already had his grand passions, +and the current of his life ran none the less pleasantly because of +them. To make love to a pretty girl was nothing to him, merely another +passing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>incident. But a man was an event to Kathleen O'Connor, an +admirer something hitherto unknown. She had laughed and flirted with +boyish admirers, as girls do; but such events are mere ripples on the +surface of passion. The love and admiration of a man are to such things +a vast upheaval of the depths of the ocean.</p> + +<p>There was at this time one person who cordially disliked Gerard, +probably the only one in Grey Town. This was Molly Healy, and she had +great difficulty to find a reason for her antipathy to the sporting +editor of "The Mercury." After her first meeting with Gerard, she +expressed her sentiments to Kathleen O'Connor unreservedly, as was her +way.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't bear to have that man near me," she said.</p> + +<p>Kathleen was, in those days, perfectly unbiassed in her opinion of +Gerard. He was to her merely a new acquaintance, but she found him +pleasant and well-informed. Laughingly, she asked:</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"He is too spick and span for me," said Molly, "and altogether too +smiling. He has got no soul."</p> + +<p>These sentiments she cherished doggedly, and expressed on every +occasion, to his face and behind his back. As the romance began to take +possession of Kathleen, she found it hard not to resent Molly's +criticism. Mrs. Quirk went so far as to scold Molly relentlessly for her +expressions of dislike, but the girl only laughed at her:</p> + +<p>"Sure, you are too young and innocent. You don't know the wickedness +there is in the world. But I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> have been taking lessons from every +guttersnipe and old good-for-nought in the town. There's wickedness in +Gerard's eye, and in his nose too."</p> + +<p>Desmond O'Connor was a particular friend of his brother scribe, but the +acquaintance was not for the boy's good. Gerard taught him to drink more +than he should, and to gamble for money that he could not afford to +lose. While these facts were unknown in the semi-retirement of "Layton," +they speedily came to Molly Healy's ears. She acted with a customary +impulse that was imprudent with such a nature as Desmond O'Connor's. One +morning on his way to "The Mercury" office he was stopped by Molly.</p> + +<p>"Desmond," she said, "what is this I am hearing of you?"</p> + +<p>Desmond met her laughingly, for he seldom took Molly Healy seriously.</p> + +<p>"Something wonderful?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Something you should be ashamed of! Look there at old Mason."</p> + +<p>She pointed to where an old man was crossing the road, a dilapidated +wreck of humanity, for Mason was the champion drunkard of Grey Town.</p> + +<p>"It is such an old man as that you will become," said Molly.</p> + +<p>Desmond flushed crimson at her words, and he turned in repressed fury on +her.</p> + +<p>"Mind your own business," he said. "Reform your old age pensioners, and +kindly allow me to look after myself."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p><p>Therewith he went on his way, leaving her to look after him with tears +in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't I give my life for Desmond!" she thought, as she watched him +until he turned a corner. For his part, indignation overcame every other +feeling. He was sufficiently young to resent interference, and to forget +for the moment the bonds of friendship that bound him to Molly Healy.</p> + +<p>Turning to climb upwards to the Presbytery, the girl met Denis Quirk. +Like Kathleen O'Connor, Molly Healy was not quite sure how she regarded +the manager of "The Mercury." He was always brusque and unapproachable, +yet she infinitely preferred his attitude to the polish of Gerard.</p> + +<p>"Looking at Desmond?" he laughed.</p> + +<p>"And why not? Isn't it a pleasure to look at a handsome man?" she +answered.</p> + +<p>"I hope you gave him a good talking to. My mother says that Molly Healy +is the one that can do that," he said.</p> + +<p>"Wait until you are standing for Parliament, and then you will see what +Molly Healy can do," she replied. "But you should look after that boy, +or he will get into mischief so deep that there will be no getting him +out."</p> + +<p>"I have an eye on him, never fear," he said, and left her abruptly, to +her infinite amusement.</p> + +<p>"Denis Quirk has no manners, but he doesn't mean any harm," she told her +brother. "It is only his way; a hard crust, but a good wholesome crumb."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p><p>That very morning Denis Quirk summoned Desmond into his room.</p> + +<p>"See here," he said, "we are not teetotal on this paper, but we know +where to stop. It's time you stopped. Make a note of that."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I had better go," cried Desmond in a passion.</p> + +<p>"I don't actually say that, for there's good stuff in you, but if you +can't behave, you can't go too soon," said Denis.</p> + +<p>Cairns was standing near the door, and he heard these exchanges. He had +a very kindly feeling for Desmond, and when the reporter came from Denis +Quirk's room Cairns drew him into his own.</p> + +<p>"Quirk is blunt, but he is true," he said. "He sees that you are going +the way of many another real good fellow, and he wants to pull you up +short. Don't ruin a promising life, Desmond. Give Gerard a wide berth; +he's a bad companion for a man like you."</p> + +<p>"Gerard is a good fellow. What have you against him?" cried Desmond.</p> + +<p>"He is altogether too good a fellow for a penniless reporter that has a +place to win in the world," said Cairns.</p> + +<p>"He is the only white man in Grey Town!" said Desmond.</p> + +<p>Remonstrance was thrown away on the boy. One night he staggered into the +office in a half-drunken condition, and the following day he disappeared +into the dark oblivion that we term "the world," taking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> with him a +letter of recommendation from Cairns to the editor of a metropolitan +paper.</p> + +<p>"I recommend you for your talent, not for your bad habits. See that you +cure them, or Smythe will shoot you out as Quirk has done," said Cairns.</p> + +<p>But he gave the boy five pounds to help him while he was looking for +work.</p> + +<p>Desmond O'Connor was the first victim to the friendship of John Gerard. +There were other young men who owed their downfall to him, not that he +bore any one of his victims malice; he was merely a man with a full +purse, and a lover of good-fellowship. "Let the young beggars look after +themselves. All that I ask is good company. It is not my place to teach +men morals," he said to one who remonstrated with him.</p> + +<p>In the same spirit he continued to court Kathleen O'Connor, enjoying +placidly the game of love, and perfectly regardless as to the result.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>DAYS OF STORM AND STRESS.</h3> + +<p>It was during breakfast at "Layton" that Kathleen O'Connor attacked +Denis Quirk on the subject of his treatment of Desmond. Mrs. Quirk was +breakfasting in bed; her husband had scrambled through his meal, and +rushed out to superintend the making of a drain, leaving Denis alone +with the girl. He had noticed her silence and aloofness, sure signs of +displeasure, and, as was his way, he calmly faced her in the moment of +bitter resentment.</p> + +<p>"You are angry with me?" he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Why should I be? I have no claims upon your kindness," she answered.</p> + +<p>"He had to go, for his own sake," he said, going straight to the point +without explanation. "It was the only hope of saving him."</p> + +<p>She did not answer, but her eyes filled with tears, vainly though she +tried to repress them. Denis Quirk feigned not to see them.</p> + +<p>"In Grey Town he must be ruined," he said, not unkindly.</p> + +<p>"And what will he do alone in a great city, with no one to advise him?" +she cried.</p> + +<p>"Fight it out and win, if he is made of the stuff I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> believe to be in +him. He had enemies here who were ruining him, body and soul."</p> + +<p>"He had one friend at least in Mr. Gerard," she said.</p> + +<p>"We had better not discuss Gerard," he replied, rising quietly.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gerard has told me——," she began.</p> + +<p>"Never believe a hostile witness until he has safely stood the fire of +cross-examination," he remarked, oracularly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was cruel not to give the boy just one chance!" she cried. "My +heart is breaking for him!"</p> + +<p>Therewith she rose and left the room. Denis took out his pipe and filled +it. Then he went to "The Mercury" office, smoking thoughtfully. The +first person to meet him on his arrival was John Gerard.</p> + +<p>"What do you want with me?" asked Denis Quirk, abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Just to hand in my resignation. I have other schemes on hand, and +cannot find the necessary time to your work," replied Gerard.</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk noted the absence of the customary suavity and deference in +the way in which Gerard addressed him.</p> + +<p>"Right you are! Come to me in five minutes for your cheque. You have +saved yourself dismissal," he said.</p> + +<p>"Are you dismissing the whole staff?" asked Gerard.</p> + +<p>"Only the useless ones," replied Denis quietly, as he entered the room.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p><p>"Your cheque—and the door, you durned skunk!" he said, five minutes +later. Gerard was on the point of retorting furiously, but one look at +the strong, ugly face and sturdy figure convinced him of the wisdom of +silence until he was actually on the doorstep of the office. Then he +said:</p> + +<p>"You will have to deal with me yet, Mr. Denis Quirk."</p> + +<p>"I am quite capable of doing that," replied Denis, smilingly.</p> + +<p>Thus did "The Mercury" lose its first sporting editor.</p> + +<p>In the quiet of his office Denis Quirk sat for fully five minutes +thinking, a most unusual thing for him to do, and, more unusual still, +thinking of a woman. He checked himself abruptly with the half-muttered +words:</p> + +<p>"Well, she must battle through alone: I can't help her."</p> + +<p>Then he began to write a letter to a friend in Melbourne:</p> + +<blockquote><p class="right">"'The Mercury,' Grey Town.</p> + +<p class="right">"January 17, 19—.</p> + +<p>"Dear Jackson,—There is a young fellow now in Melbourne, one Desmond +O'Connor, a wild, harum-scarum, but of good stuff. You will find him at +Mrs. Tippett's, 102 The Grove, Upper Hawthorn. Look him up, if you still +love me, and take him under your care. Find him a place in your office; +he has the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> necessary qualifications. He is a journalist, but I foresee +ruin in that line for Desmond. Supply his immediate needs, and draw upon +me, but invent some pious fiction to account for the capital—a dead +maiden aunt or any other apocryphal person you like. If he thinks that +the money comes from me, ten to one he will have none of it. Make him +keep himself as far as possible by his own brains, and never offer the +boy whisky. If you do this for me, I shall recognise that you are the +same good old Jackson, whom I am proud to call a friend.—Yours +sincerely,</p> + +<p class="right">"DENIS QUIRK."</p></blockquote> + +<p>As he closed the note and handed it to Tim O'Neill, Molly Healy entered +the office. Like Kathleen O'Connor, she resented Denis Quirk's treatment +of Desmond, and she had come to express her sentiments openly.</p> + +<p>"Are you busy?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Not more so than usual; a pile of advertisements and correspondence, a +few proofs to glance at, and a council committee at ten. I can spare you +five minutes," he answered.</p> + +<p>"I have not come to talk gently to you," said Molly. "I think you should +be ashamed of yourself for your treatment of Desmond O'Connor."</p> + +<p>"Now, Miss Molly, have you considered this question carefully? Just sit +down for five minutes, and hear me explain it to you."</p> + +<p>Molly Healy took a chair reluctantly, her face expressing a +determination not to be convinced.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p><p>"Desmond O'Connor," he said, and all the while he was stamping and +closing envelopes, "came under the influence of a man——."</p> + +<p>"Gerard!" she cried, interrupting him.</p> + +<p>"John Gerard. If he had remained here that influence must have ruined +him."</p> + +<p>"And could you not separate the two?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Not I, nor you; not even Father Healy. Desmond was gambling, he was +beginning to drink; he would have degenerated into an habitual +drunkard——."</p> + +<p>"I as much as told him that myself," said Molly Healy.</p> + +<p>"Outside there," he pointed to the window towards the east, "in +Melbourne, lies the boy's chance. It was not for my sake I sent him +packing. That boy was useful to me, and I can never replace him; but +better 'The Mercury' should suffer than he and Kathleen O'Connor."</p> + +<p>"Well, you're not a bad sort of man," she remarked. "Your heart's better +than your face."</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk laughed heartily at her remark.</p> + +<p>"You don't like my face?" he remarked. "Haven't I been called the +ugliest man in Grey Town? And proud I am of it."</p> + +<p>"Good-day!" cried Molly Healy. "I will not ruin your paper, after all, +as I had intended doing. But my heart is sore for poor Desmond—out +there."</p> + +<p>She, in turn, pointed towards the east before she left the office.</p> + +<p>This day was spent by Denis Quirk in fighting. In the council committee +he came into conflict with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> man whom he regarded as the greatest +opponent to the progress of Grey Town. This was Councillor Garnett, and +he was not above the suspicion that he made use of his privileges to +further his own ends. Apart from this, he was at once narrow-minded and +obstinate. For such men as he Denis Quirk had no mercy.</p> + +<p>The council of Grey Town was not unlike other municipal councils—its +members honest for the greater part, but many of them men who followed +old traditions, and believed that quiet things should not be moved. For +many years they had lived under a system of accepting the imperfect, and +never attempting to make it more perfect. Of these easy-going, +self-satisfied gentlemen Councillor Garnett was the chief.</p> + +<p>This special meeting of the council had been summoned to consider the +condition of the roads in the town. Year after year the council had +spent less money on the roads than they deserved, and year after year +the roads had degenerated. At this time they were deplorable, and Denis +Quirk had compelled his fellow-councillors to take action. After a drive +around the town, they met to discuss ways and means, and then occurred a +scene that was the first skirmish in a fierce campaign.</p> + +<p>At this time Denis Quirk stood practically alone. Opposed to him was a +body of resolute Conservatives; between the two factions, a few who +hesitated, favouring Denis Quirk rather than Councillor Garnett. The +debate began gently, but it ended in such a storm as the municipal +council chamber had never witnessed before.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p><p>The mayor, a kindly man, was at his wits' end to keep the peace. Again +and again he called the two parties to order, until finally the meeting +broke up, Denis Quirk having been defeated.</p> + +<p>But he was the last man to accept defeat. From the municipal chambers he +hurried round the town to convene an indignation meeting for the +following week. Meanwhile he laid his case before the public in the +columns of "The Mercury." This accomplished, he turned home to "Layton."</p> + +<p>Councillor Garnett was hand in glove with Ebenezer Brown, and the latter +was, above all things, a good hater. He had little cause to love Denis +Quirk, and he possessed not a little power in the town, gained by +illicit means. In those days there were factions in Grey Town, as there +always will be where progress confronts stagnation. The skirmishes and +battles were fought over mere trifles, but they were fought none the +less bitterly for that reason. Day after day Denis Quirk found himself +defeated; yet day after day he gained strength, a member here and there +from the doubtful councillors, and public approbation abroad.</p> + +<p>But at home in "Layton" he was not happy, for he recognised relentless +hostility on the part of Kathleen O'Connor, and he realised that John +Gerard was too intimate with the girl. It was not for him to remonstrate +with her. He had no right to speak, no reasons to advance against +Gerard, beyond an unreasoning antipathy. In his heart of hearts he +believed that Gerard, now an agent in the town, was a worthless <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>fellow, +but such unproven beliefs are useless. He could only look on hopelessly, +and trust that time would put things straight.</p> + +<p>Desmond O'Connor paid a flying visit to "Layton" in the summer. He came +quite unexpectedly, and surprised Kathleen one afternoon when she was +reading to Mrs. Quirk out in the garden. Molly Healy was there, too, +cutting flowers for the church, returning every now and again to +interrupt the reading.</p> + +<p>Desmond O'Connor came walking up the avenue, lined by trees and shrubs, +and paused to look at the group on the green lawn under the shade of a +large elm tree. He looked fresh and bright in his face, although it had +lost some of the tan associated with country life. His eye was clear, +and his step free; there was the dignity of self-respect in the way in +which he carried himself.</p> + +<p>Molly Healy was the first to see him. Shading her eyes with her hand to +avoid the glare of the sun, she took one look at him. Then she dropped +her basket of flowers, and hurried towards him, crying:</p> + +<p>"It is Desmond himself!"</p> + +<p>Kathleen sprang up and dropped her book. The two girls hastened to meet +him.</p> + +<p>"Take him away to your room, Kathleen," said Mrs. Quirk, when she had +welcomed Desmond. "I can look after myself, and you have much to talk +about."</p> + +<p>"Let me look after you, Granny," cried Molly Healy; but she cast a +regretful eye at Kathleen and Desmond.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p><p>"No, Molly; you can come with us and hear what he has to say for +himself," said Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"May I, then? But I would only be in the way," suggested Molly.</p> + +<p>"Not one bit, Molly. Come and listen to my wonderful tale of +adventure—a story of robbers slain, wild animals subdued, good fairies +and witches," said Desmond.</p> + +<p>"I hope you are minding your soul. It is a dangerous place for young +men, is Melbourne," said Mrs. Quirk.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right," replied Desmond, airily. "I am not on the side +of the saints or the sinners."</p> + +<p>Molly Healy noted this reply, but she abstained from commenting on it. +She was shrewd enough to recognise that the man who boasts of +lukewarmness is generally something less than tepid.</p> + +<p>"You will be coming to see the Father?" she suggested.</p> + +<p>"You must make my excuses, Molly. I am here to-day and back in Melbourne +to-morrow. I have fallen on my feet. Where do you think I am working?" +he asked Kathleen as they walked towards the house.</p> + +<p>"On a paper," she suggested.</p> + +<p>"No; in an advertising agency, the biggest in Melbourne, drawing posters +for them, and helping in the business. I shall be a partner before long. +Jackson, the boss, has been a good friend to me, and Mrs. Jackson might +be a mother, and Sylvia—a sister."</p> + +<p>The hesitation that preceded the latter part of this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> speech was not +lost upon Molly Healy. It caused her a spasm of pain that was sharp, if +it was only short-lived, for she was a girl, if a sensible and healthy +one, and she always had greatly admired Desmond O'Connor.</p> + +<p>In the dining-room they sat down close together.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you have such good friends? How did you find them?" asked +Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"I can't for the life of me discover that. Jackson came to see me and +offered to help me. I rather fancy Gerard must have sent him."</p> + +<p>"Gerard!" cried Molly Healy, scornfully. "Do you fancy he would take so +much trouble? It is 'out of sight as good as buried' with Gerard."</p> + +<p>Kathleen O'Connor flushed up at these words, but refrained from reply. +Desmond answered banteringly:</p> + +<p>"You will hate to the end, Molly?"</p> + +<p>"Sure, my hates are as enduring as my loves," said Molly. "You can +always know how you will find Molly Healy."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you are quite fair to Gerard," said Desmond.</p> + +<p>"Now, tell us about—Sylvia Jackson, Desmond," said Kathleen, anxious to +terminate the discussion.</p> + +<p>"Sylvia Jackson," he answered, with an assumed carelessness, that was in +itself suspicious to the critical ears of Molly Healy. "Why are you so +anxious to hear about her?"</p> + +<p>"Is she pretty?" asked Kathleen.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p><p>Molly Healy watched him curiously, and noted a certain embarrassment in +his face.</p> + +<p>"That is a question of taste. Some people consider her pretty," he +answered.</p> + +<p>"And why not say that Desmond O'Connor is one of those people? Of course +she is pretty, Kathleen, and charming and kind to Desmond. Didn't he say +so? Are you kind to her, Desmond?" cried Molly.</p> + +<p>"Kind to her?" he replied, with a species of horror in his voice, as if +one of his most sacred convictions had been criticised. "One cannot be +kind to a girl like Sylvia Jackson."</p> + +<p>"And why not kind?" asked Molly.</p> + +<p>"I admire and respect—in fact, I almost reverence—her. She is so"—he +paused for a suitable word—"so ethereal. She is more like a spirit than +a piece of common human nature."</p> + +<p>Molly Healy was with great difficulty attempting to restrain a giggle. +She recognised that to give her amusement full play would be to +grievously annoy him. For this reason she turned to look out of the +window, thrusting her handkerchief into her mouth the while.</p> + +<p>"Does she play?" asked Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"She plays and sings divinely. She does everything well. To dance with +her—is——."</p> + +<p>He ended abruptly, not being capable of giving full expression to his +sensations when dancing with Sylvia Jackson.</p> + +<p>"Denis Quirk!" cried Molly Healy, and climbed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> through the window. It +was a relief to her to give her mirth full vent.</p> + +<p>"Ethereal! Poor Desmond! I wonder will he recover?" she laughed.</p> + +<p>"You will not be rude to him?" Kathleen asked her brother anxiously.</p> + +<p>He laughed unrestrainedly. All resentment against Denis Quirk was long +forgotten, for his anger was short-lived.</p> + +<p>"I regard him as a benefactor. He has released me from the thraldom of +Grey Town and introduced me to the larger life," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Whatever you do, don't speak to him of Sylvia, or I shall laugh," cried +Molly on meeting Denis Quirk.</p> + +<p>"You are speaking Dutch puzzles, Miss Molly. Who and what are he and +Sylvia?" he answered.</p> + +<p>"Desmond O'Connor is him, and Sylvia a spirit, just a woman that's +ethereal and a spirit. I am thinking poor Desmond is love sick."</p> + +<p>Desmond followed Molly through the window, and came with outstretched +hand to meet his former chief. Kathleen O'Connor, watching from the +window, admired her brother's magnanimity. She would herself have unbent +to Denis long ago had it not been for Gerard's influence, and for the +dread lest her brother should be lost in the darkness of the great city +life.</p> + +<p>Denis took the proffered hand and wrung it cordially. One glance at the +open face convinced him that his plan had proved successful; the drink +fiend had been exorcised.</p> + +<p>"And how is Melbourne treating you?" he asked.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p><p>"Better than I deserve. I have found good work and good friends," +replied Desmond.</p> + +<p>"I knew you would come out all right, lad," said Denis, kindly. "What is +your work—papers or politics?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing so grand; just advertising."</p> + +<p>"Then you are at the very top, for advertising is the great power these +times. You will make and unmake kings and emperors of commerce."</p> + +<p>Kathleen O'Connor was that evening kinder and more gracious to Denis +Quirk than she had been since Desmond had gone away. Mrs. Quirk, who had +noted their estrangement with wondering sorrow, smiled placidly as she +heard them laughing, while Molly Healy and Desmond exchanged jests +together.</p> + +<p>"You are not cross with Denis now, Honey?" she asked the girl after the +two men had left the house—Denis for his office, and Desmond for the +hotel. "He is good at heart, if sometimes quick in his temper."</p> + +<p>Molly Healy, who was preparing to drive home in Father Healy's jinker, +cried out:</p> + +<p>"Denis is a great man! His heart is as big as your own, Granny!"</p> + +<p>Kathleen kissed the old lady as she answered:</p> + +<p>"I could not long be cross with anyone whom you loved."</p> + +<p>"God reward you, Honey, for your kindness to an old woman," said Mrs. +Quirk, lovingly.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>RUMOUR, HYDRA-HEADED.</h3> + +<p>Ebenezer Brown lived a lonely life in an old house on the outskirts of +the town, the large garden surrounded by a high stone wall. There was +always a feeling of gloom about the house, no sound of voices, for +Ebenezer Brown was a bachelor, with no relations to care for him, and +only one elderly female to provide for his comfort. A venturesome +relation had on one occasion taken advantage of the old man's sickness +to attempt to secure a footing in his house; but no sooner was the old +man out of his bed than the relative was to be seen driving to the +station with her luggage. Warned by her fate, no other relation, male or +female, dared to enter the house.</p> + +<p>It was seldom that lights were seen to gleam from the windows of the +house. Still more uncommon was it to find visitors assembled there. The +old man had a place of business in the town, and anyone wishing to see +him might find him there. He discouraged visitors, for visitors +suggested hospitality, and hospitality represented the expenditure of +money, the one and only thing that the old man valued.</p> + +<p>Lights were, however, twinkling from Ebenezer Brown's dining room out +into the night a few evenings<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> subsequently to Desmond O'Connor's visit +to Grey Town. A meagre attempt at hospitality had been made for the +visitors, a scanty supply of water biscuits, a few apples of an antique +appearance, with a bottle of limejuice and water. But not one of the +guests was sufficiently hungry or thirsty to taste of the good things +provided for them.</p> + +<p>They sat around the large, bare table, Ebenezer Brown and his three +guests, Garnett, Gifford and Gerard—the three G's, as Denis Quirk had +nicknamed them. Ebenezer Brown half leaned on the table, his face +peculiarly white and eyes very bright in the light of an incandescent +gas burner.</p> + +<p>"Every man has a past, if you can unearth it. The greater the saint, the +worse his past. Eh, Garnett?" he asked.</p> + +<p>It was noticeable that Garnett refrained from any direct answer; +possibly even he had had a past.</p> + +<p>"That play," continued Ebenezer. "What did you call it?" he asked +Gerard.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde."</p> + +<p>Ebenezer Brown's hearing was exceptionally acute to-night.</p> + +<p>"That's the one!" he cried; "and it's true to nature. There's good in a +few and bad in all. Eh, Gifford?"</p> + +<p>"Unhappily there is," sighed Gifford.</p> + +<p>"This man, Quirk," cried the old man, vindictively, "has a past, if we +can discover it. We must rid ourselves of him; he's a public nuisance, a +dangerous, meddlesome fellow. Always poking his nose into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> something; +always making things unpleasant. Quirk must go!"</p> + +<p>"Quirk," said Garnett, in the slow and sententious manner he adopted, +"is a radical and a demagogue, a positive scourge to the town. As you +say, Quirk must go!"</p> + +<p>Ebenezer Brown turned to Gerard this time and asked him:</p> + +<p>"Are you prepared to make the necessary enquiries for us?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, if you are prepared to pay the necessary expenses," replied +Gerard, carelessly.</p> + +<p>Ebenezer Brown winced at this, but his hatred of Denis Quirk was an +absorbing passion now.</p> + +<p>"Garnett and I will share the expenses."</p> + +<p>Garnett protested feebly, but the old man overbore him triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"Garnett and I will pay," he said.</p> + +<p>"Let me have it in writing," said Gerard, producing a typewritten paper +from his pocket.</p> + +<p>Ebenezer Brown read it through carefully; then, after one or two +protests as to the amount, he prepared to sign it, but he paused, +saying:</p> + +<p>"No evidence; no pay?"</p> + +<p>Gerard looked the old man full in the face, and answered:</p> + +<p>"You can add that. I promise you full and convincing evidence."</p> + +<p>The deed was signed and witnessed to by Gifford and the old housekeeper, +aroused from her sleep for the purpose. A few minutes later the three +G's were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> leaving the house. As they emerged from the gate the bright +head lights of a motor picked them out distinctly, before the car swept +by, leaving a blacker darkness behind it.</p> + +<p>"Did you see those three, Cairns?" asked Denis Quirk, who was racing +towards "The Mercury" office in company with his editor. "There's +mischief on foot when you see insects like those together."</p> + +<p>"Ebenezer Brown has been having a card party," laughed Cairns. "Cards +and wine."</p> + +<p>"And light talk? It's a pity there is no law for the destruction of +vermin of the human sort!"</p> + +<p>"Did you see who was in the car?" Garnett asked Gerard.</p> + +<p>"I think it was Quirk himself and Cairns," replied Gerard. "Probably +they have been writing an article about you; something hot and strong. +Quirk knows where to strike, and he hits hard."</p> + +<p>Garnett's comment was hurled into the surrounding darkness; but his +companions heard it and laughed.</p> + +<p>"I expect to return in six months' time," said Gerard; "possibly sooner. +Another six weeks later, and 'The Mercury' will probably need a new +proprietor. Why not buy it yourself and make me the editor, with Gifford +under me? You might do worse."</p> + +<p>Outside the first hotel he suggested a drink. Gifford refused to enter +the bar, and went on towards his home; the others walked into the +private bar and called for whisky and soda.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see such a miser as Ebenezer Brown?" Gerard asked. "Dry +biscuits, dry apples,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> and that sour stuff! It makes me sick to see a +man like him, with all his money. He won't enjoy it here—nor hereafter, +if there is a hereafter," he added.</p> + +<p>Garnett, a strict Calvinist, winced at the remark, but passed it over. +Gerard was too useful a man to quarrel with.</p> + +<p>And so these two worthies walked home, laughing together, while Denis +Quirk and Cairns were preparing fresh powder and shot for the campaign +against reaction. When Councillor Garnett read the leading article in +"The Mercury" on "Ways and Means," after the first irritation he smiled +grimly.</p> + +<p>"This can't go on for ever. We shall wear them out," he remarked to his +wife.</p> + +<p>There was yet another question in the town, about which the feeling ran +high and bitterly. The council was desirous of building a more imposing +town hall, and the land they desired belonged to Ebenezer Brown. +Naturally, he asked twice the just value for it, and, as was now the +commonly accepted course of events, Councillor Garnett supported him. +Denis Quirk and the councillors, who now followed him, set resolutely to +work to prevent this spoliation. Had Denis not been there, the public +would have grumblingly accepted the purchase of the land. As it was, he +roused them to such a pitch of resentment that the price was slowly +reduced until it finally remained at one and a quarter times the +rightful value of the block. At this price the council purchased it.</p> + +<p>During the conflict party feeling ran high, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>personalities were +indulged in. It was at this time that the scandal was first whispered.</p> + +<p>Who originated it, no one knew, but it flew from mouth to mouth, and it +was not the less grim for the constant repetition. Denis Quirk had a +past—an evil past—so evil indeed that his wife had divorced him in the +States. At this time the story had no substance; it was merely an ugly +rumour. Strange to say, it did not reach Denis Quirk's ears, because his +enemies repeated it among themselves, while his friends refused to +insult him by mentioning the story.</p> + +<p>Father Healy, on hearing it, lost for once his accustomed kindliness.</p> + +<p>"Would you be bringing such tales to me, a priest?" he asked. "Denis +Quirk is a man who goes to his duties; not by any means a saint, but a +good, honest Catholic. Tell the next man or woman who speaks about it +that scandal and detraction are steps in the ladder down to the devil's +kingdom. There are more souls lost that way than you can count."</p> + +<p>The narrator, a well-meaning gossip, left the presbytery in +consternation, and forbore from further repetition of what was to her a +"bonne bouche." But not even Father Healy could keep the tale from +growing in magnitude and increased offensiveness.</p> + +<p>The story came to Kathleen O'Connor's ears, and, curiously enough, she +strongly discredited it. Not that she cared for Denis Quirk, but she had +a strong sense of justice and of probability. She could not believe that +Denis Quirk, whom she regarded as an honourable man, could be guilty of +that of which he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> accused. He was a hard man, rugged and deficient +in manners, but, seeing him constantly, she recognised that he was not +the sort of man to commit the crimes of which he was accused.</p> + +<p>For this reason she was kinder to him than ever she had previously been. +Denis Quirk, although he appreciated the fact, never attributed it to +any absurd reason, such as a younger and more conceited man might have +done. In the matter of women he was absolutely humble and wanting in +vanity, for he regarded himself as hopelessly ugly and deficient in the +qualities that charm the female sex.</p> + +<p>But poor old Mrs. Quirk had a romantic idea in her mind that the two +persons she loved best, after her husband, should make her happy by +marriage. She noted the kindlier feeling between them, and one evening +she spoke to Kathleen, most diplomatically as she believed.</p> + +<p>"You are beginning to understand Denis, honey. The more you know him the +better you will like him."</p> + +<p>It was an autumn evening, and the air was beginning to turn chilly. Mrs. +Quirk, who felt the cold, sat near a wood fire. Kathleen was beside the +window. Presently she would slip out to say a few words to Gerard, for +thus far had their intimacy gone that he frequently came and talked to +her in the avenue near the house. And these meetings were unknown to +Mrs. Quirk, who dozed in her chair, or to Samuel Quirk, smoking in his +den. There was nothing in their têtes-a-têtes, no word spoken, no action +done, that was wrong; but there was danger to the girl <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>because of her +very innocence. She was this night working and watching. Outside a +bright moonlight lay on the trees and gardens, making the shadows darker +by the contrast. Gerard, who lurked in the shadow, would presently call +her from one of these.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Denis Quirk is an honourable man, and I respect him," she said.</p> + +<p>"It is near my heart——," Mrs. Quirk began. Then she paused.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" asked Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, honey. If it is God's will, He will work it. It is +difficult to arrange things for Providence."</p> + +<p>A low whistle from a deep shadow, like the note of a bird. Mrs. Quirk +fancied it was a bird, but Kathleen rose and slipped out.</p> + +<p>"I shall be gone only a few minutes," she said.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>TEMPTATION.</h3> + +<p>Kathleen O'Connor was walking slowly in the deep shadow of the avenue +with Gerard beside her. There was a stillness everywhere save for the +droning of flying beetles as they hurried past, apparently careless as +to where they might go. Beyond the avenue lawns, gardens, and trees were +distinctly outlined in the bright moonlight. From the pines and from +shrubs and flowers a sweet perfume arose, enervating, intoxicating, but +this was as nothing to the intoxicating power in the words of Gerard. +Never before had he or any man spoken to Kathleen as he did on this +night; never had she felt the same strange thrill as now. Not that his +words were evil or suggestive of evil; they were merely a powerful +appeal to the girl's affections. They appeared to come straight from his +heart, and they had a compelling effect upon her.</p> + +<p>"I am going away from Grey Town to-morrow, Kathleen," he began.</p> + +<p>Her heart sank at these words, for already his visits had come to assume +an important part in her scheme of life.</p> + +<p>"For a long time?" she asked him.</p> + +<p>"For six months. Will you come with me?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p><p>"I can't leave Mrs. Quirk," she faltered. "Not yet. Wait until you +return."</p> + +<p>"I may never come back," he urged.</p> + +<p>"Surely you cannot expect me to come with you, like this, at a moment's +notice?" she pleaded.</p> + +<p>He put his arm around her, the first time he had touched her, and she +did not shrink from him.</p> + +<p>"You love me, Kathleen. I am sure of it. I cannot wait until I return. +Come with me to Melbourne—now, at once. We shall be married there," he +said, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"But I can't leave Mrs. Quirk like this. It would be so horribly +ungrateful," she protested.</p> + +<p>"You must!" His arm was more firmly around her. She had the feeling that +she was in his power, that he was exercising some influence over her, +hitherto unknown to her. "I need you more than she."</p> + +<p>"I can't," she answered, more faintly. "Why should we steal away +clandestinely, without telling Mrs. Quirk?"</p> + +<p>"Because I am compelled to go, and I cannot go without you. I will take +you to America, and give you a chance of seeing the world. We shall be +happy together, you and I. Come, Kathleen!"</p> + +<p>They had strolled back along the avenue, and were not far from the +house.</p> + +<p>"Kathleen! Honey!"</p> + +<p>Kathleen could hear Mrs. Quirk's voice calling to her from the house.</p> + +<p>"I must go inside," she urged.</p> + +<p>"No! You must come with me, now, to-night!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> There is the night express, +and I have a cab waiting for us outside the gate," he answered. There +was mastery in his voice, and she felt that she could not resist.</p> + +<p>"Kathleen! Honey!" cried the voice again. Looking up at the window, she +saw Mrs. Quirk framed in the light as she peered out.</p> + +<p>"I must go! I will!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Come with me," he answered, and began to lead her towards the gate. As +she went the voice became fainter and fainter: her resisting power +weaker.</p> + +<p>They were half-way down the avenue when they heard a man's steps, rapid +and firm. A moment later they could see the figure, though indistinctly, +in the shadow. For one moment Gerard hesitated, then with an oath he +sprang behind a thick shrub, leaving her free. Immediately she was +running towards the house, her heart palpitating, her breath coming and +going in gasps. She felt that she must get away from the temptation.</p> + +<p>In the drawing-room she found Mrs. Quirk still peering anxiously out +into the garden. The old lady did not hear the girl's entry, nor did she +know that Kathleen was present, until the latter went and touched her on +the shoulder; then she turned quickly.</p> + +<p>"I had a dream, honey, a fearsome dream," she said, "that someone was +taking you away from me. Sure, I thought it was," she added, lowering +her voice to a whisper, "the devil! I could see him leading you down the +avenue there, and I awoke calling out to you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> in terror. When you did +not answer me I went to the window to peer out."</p> + +<p>"No one shall take me away from you," said the girl. "I will stay with +you while you need me."</p> + +<p>She led Mrs. Quirk back to her chair, and placed a cushion behind her. +Then she remained beside her, gently stroking the old lady's hand and +singing to her in a low voice. Thus did Denis Quirk find them when he +entered.</p> + +<p>Little did he know how closely she had approached to destruction. Nor +was he aware that a man crouching behind the shrubs had viewed him with +the acute hatred of disappointment in his heart. Gerard had clenched his +fist in impotent rage, and cursed the man he regarded as an enemy. "I +will be even with you for this, Denis Quirk!" he had muttered to himself +as he went down the dark avenue, after waiting in the vain hope that +Kathleen might return to him.</p> + +<p>Of all this Denis Quirk was ignorant. He had fancied he saw figures as +he came up the avenue, but even of this he was doubtful. Entering the +room, and seeing Kathleen occupied with his mother, his voice became +almost gentle as he said:</p> + +<p>"Miss O'Connor, you are very nearly an angel."</p> + +<p>Kathleen appreciated the kindness of his words and tone, but she did not +look up nor answer him. She had not yet recovered from the scene in the +garden; to speak at this moment might have proved too much for her.</p> + +<p>Denis was, where women are concerned, quite ignorant and simple. Men he +understood, but the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> female mind was like a strange, unexplored +territory to him. He had a vast respect for women, a respect that +bordered on fear. To conceal this he made use of a brusquerie of speech +and manner that was merely a cloak to his real nervousness. Kathleen +O'Connor he regarded as an ideal of womanly perfection: he placed her on +a pedestal, and paid her his homage secretly. For her part, Kathleen was +beginning to realise that the rough exterior concealed a character +truthful, and not ungentle. Realising this, she had laid aside her +attitude of resentment, and adopted a friendly camaraderie such as may +exist between brother and sister.</p> + +<p>To-night, finding his remarks unanswered, Denis turned to his mother.</p> + +<p>"I have a plan for to-morrow, old lady," he said—"a day off. What do +you say to a boating excursion up the river?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Quirk was still influenced by the vivid effect of her dream. It had +been peculiarly real, and had left a marked impression on her mind.</p> + +<p>"Will Kathleen be coming?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Kathleen has not been asked," said the girl in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Miss O'Connor was included in my plan," said Denis.</p> + +<p>"And will you come, honey? Sure, if I must be drowned, I would like to +have you beside me," said Mrs. Quirk.</p> + +<p>Denis laughed at the reply, and Kathleen could not forbear from a smile.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p><p>"We will all go down together, and lie twined up in the bottom of the +river. It will make the fishes smile to see us," he laughed. "Be +prepared to-morrow, ten sharp."</p> + +<p>Kathleen was sorely tempted to ask his advice in regard to Gerard. +Indeed, she went so far as to call him back as he was leaving the room, +but, when he turned, she asked:</p> + +<p>"Have you any news of Desmond?"</p> + +<p>"The best," he answered. "He is doing well. Did I do right to send him +away?"</p> + +<p>"You did," she said; "but I could not foresee. Shall I thank you now?"</p> + +<p>"No need to do that. I am always at your service."</p> + +<p>"Denis meant that; every word of it all," said Mrs. Quirk, when her +son's footsteps had died away. "He is true to his friends, that boy is."</p> + +<p>"I am sure that he is," replied Kathleen.</p> + +<p>All night she lay between waking and sleeping, the events in the garden +returning constantly to disturb her. She still regarded Gerard as +something more than a friend; to-night she had stood on the threshold of +love. But she was afraid of him; the strange influence he exerted over +her had terrified her. What should she answer when he asked her to marry +him on his return, and what would she do without his companionship while +he was away? The morning found her still wearied with her night's +combat. It brought her a note from Gerard, written prior to his +departure. In it he urged Kathleen to join him in Melbourne, but all the +desire to do this had now left her. Last night<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> in the garden she had +struggled almost vainly against his power, now she was able to realise +the folly and danger of that which he suggested.</p> + +<p>The quiet party up the Grey River, with Denis Quirk rowing and Mrs. +Quirk beside her, while she steered, was soothing to the girl's tired +spirit.</p> + +<p>As they wound in and out of the river bends, now between the frowning +grey rocks that jutted out on each side of the river, and now through +green meadows, where the cows were contentedly browsing, the quiet and +stillness of the day was a sedative to her. Here and there they would +pause to explore a cave, its interior, moist and covered with moss, +extending far into the rocky hill, away out towards the ocean. Now and +again they could obtain a distant view of Grey Town, a blue smoke +hanging about its roofs and church towers.</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk rowed steadily, but without undue exertion, and Kathleen +allowed one hand to trail in the water as she steered with the other. It +was a still day, and the river reflected the sky and the rocks as they +passed; even the cattle standing to drink in places knee deep in the +water were reduplicated. In silence the girl drank in the peacefulness +of the scene, while Denis Quirk cast an occasional remark at his mother +and her.</p> + +<p>About mid-day they drew the boat up on a patch of sand, while they +picnicked on a piece of green meadow land. When that was ended they +drifted slowly down the stream, and returned in the motor to "Layton."</p> + +<p>"Now," cried Denis, when he had assisted his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> mother and Kathleen out of +the car, "after a day of peace to return to war and strife. Don't you +feel better for the day off. Miss O'Connor?"</p> + +<p>"Much better. Why is not every day like to-day?" Kathleen asked.</p> + +<p>"We should not appreciate it properly. Work and play in thin slices +makes life an appetising sandwich. Good-night, and pleasant dreams."</p> + +<p>He turned to the chauffeur and told him to drive him to the "Mercury" +office. There he flung off his coat, and directed the staff with an +energy that was almost superhuman. With Denis Quirk and Cairns to +control the paper, it was not to be marvelled at if the Grey Town people +boasted of their daily paper.</p> + +<p>Sometimes Ebenezer Brown, smarting over an exceptionally vigorous +attack, vowed that he would start his old paper in opposition; but a +short reflection showed him the hopelessness of such an undertaking.</p> + +<p>"Wait until Gerard returns!" he said, rubbing his thin hands together. +"Then we shall see Quirk crumble up and fall into pieces. Take away a +man's reputation and you destroy him here in Grey Town."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>SYLVIA JACKSON.</h3> + +<p>"Marry? Why should I? I am perfectly happy as I am. My father dotes on +me and gives me everything I ask for. I know at least a score of men who +regard me as the last thing in feminine perfection. I am perfectly +content to remain as I am."</p> + +<p>Sylvia Jackson, fair haired, ethereal, as Desmond O'Connor had described +her, with large, rather sleepy, blue eyes, looked at Kathleen O'Connor +in surprise.</p> + +<p>"But you may fall in love," suggested Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"Love? I really don't know what it means. I have always liked to have a +few men about me and know that they will do whatever I ask, even to +destroying themselves. But the passion is on their side."</p> + +<p>The two girls were sitting in Kathleen's room, in evening dress, as they +had come from the annual club ball in Grey Town. There was a fire in the +grate, a lamp in a corner of the room was lighted and half turned up, +but it shed a very subdued light on the room.</p> + +<p>Kathleen remembered that Desmond had done his utmost at the ball to +monopolise Sylvia Jackson, that they had disappeared for a considerable +portion of the evening. She could still see her brother's flushed face<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +and sparkling eyes as he returned from some dark corner with Sylvia on +his arm. She had hoped to hear an avowal of love from Mrs. Quirk's +guest.</p> + +<p>"I fancied——," she began in a disappointed voice.</p> + +<p>"Of course I like Desmond," said Sylvia Jackson, divining her thought. +"He is so fresh and unconventional that we all like him at home. He is +the very nicest boy I know; but I am like a mother or an elder sister to +him. Why, I am centuries older than Desmond, not in actual years, but in +knowledge of the world. I shall find him a charming girl-wife, like you +are, but I shall always expect him to remain on my staff."</p> + +<p>"After he is married?" cried Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"Why not? It is a recognised thing, I assure you. But I suppose we must +go to bed. What an ugly man Mr. Denis Quirk is! Really, he is the +ugliest man I ever met!"</p> + +<p>"That is because you don't know him. Mr. Quirk's face is the worst part +of him," said Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"I have a dread of ugly men. I select my staff with particular attention +to good looks. What queer old people those Quirks are! The old woman +should be in the kitchen; I am sure she would feel more at home there."</p> + +<p>Now, if there was one subject upon which Kathleen felt keenly, it was +the virtues of Mrs. Quirk. She well knew that the old lady was laughed +at and derided behind her back; but no one had dared hitherto to speak +disrespectfully of her to Kathleen's face. Reddening slightly, she +answered:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p><p>"Mrs. Quirk is the best and kindest woman I know; if you really wish to +be friends with me, don't say a word against her. I shall quarrel with +anyone who does that."</p> + +<p>"Don't quarrel with me, please! I am far too lazy for that. I always +agree with everybody, and for your sake Mr. Denis Quirk shall be +handsome, and Mrs. Quirk as refined as she is rich."</p> + +<p>It had been Mrs. Quirk's suggestion that Sylvia Jackson should be +invited to "Layton," and Sylvia, being at the time rather hipped at +home, accepted the invitation readily. Desmond O'Connor, on hearing of +her intended visit, managed to obtain a few days' holiday, and arrive in +Grey Town in time for the club ball. There he had her undivided +attention, an impossible thing to achieve in Melbourne. But the fact did +not make her less elusive. She laughed at him when he became too tender, +allowed him a certain degree of liberty to check him when he approached +the question of love. She was always gracious and kind to him, as to +every other man; in this way she prevented her staff from deserting her; +but, while she loved to be admired, she had expressed her true +sentiments to Kathleen as they sat together after the ball.</p> + +<p>For his part, Desmond O'Connor lived in a fever heat of passion. To hint +that Sylvia was not perfection was to make him an implacable enemy. She +so far encouraged him as to make him believe that the barrier between +them was the most fragile and easily broken affair, and that at any +moment it would be shattered by his great love. Relying on this hope, +he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> came and went at her bidding, filling to perfection the duties of an +obedient staff officer.</p> + +<p>On the morning after the dance, Kathleen met Sylvia in a somewhat +hostile spirit. She resented Desmond's devotion to the girl, and she had +been hurt by the allusions to Mrs. Quirk; but Sylvia did her utmost to +dispel this feeling.</p> + +<p>"I am sure you are cross with me," she said, "and I want you to like me. +I think you are the most charming girl I have ever met. For your sake I +intend to cultivate even Mr. Denis Quirk, and to make love to that dear +old woman."</p> + +<p>This programme she began to carry out scrupulously. To Mrs. Quirk she +was most attentive, and on Denis she exercised her fascinations, to his +intense surprise.</p> + +<p>"Do you walk into town?" she asked him.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes I do. It depends on the state of my liver. When I feel in a +desperate temper and inclined to destroy the whole world, myself +included, I walk into town; at other times I ride in the car."</p> + +<p>"Are you walking to-day?" she asked him.</p> + +<p>"I am," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Then I intend to walk with you, if I may," she said.</p> + +<p>"You won't enjoy it a bit. It is all that I can do to prevent myself +from snapping my own nose off," said Denis.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that does not matter a bit. You couldn't make me angry if you +tried. Will you come with us, Kathleen?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p><p>"I am afraid I can't leave Mrs. Quirk. But I will meet you in town, and +we will have lunch together," said Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"Come with us," said Denis Quirk, almost despairingly. "The mother will +get on for once without you."</p> + +<p>"I flatter myself that Mrs. Quirk will be quite miserable without me," +she answered, laughingly. "I have a very good opinion of myself, Mr. +Quirk; I feel that I am necessary to one person in the world."</p> + +<p>But she watched them as they walked down the avenue, wondering what they +were laughing about, perhaps a little bit annoyed at Sylvia Jackson's +presumption in forcing herself on Denis Quirk.</p> + +<p>Sylvia Jackson was very adaptable, where men were concerned. She rarely +found any great difficulty in securing the attention of a man, old or +young, when she desired so to do. It was her way to find out where a +man's special vanity lay. If he were so singular as to have no +particular vanity, she would discover wherein his interests were centred +and attack him through that avenue. So skilful was she, so insinuating +in her flattery and in her questions, that she rarely failed to secure +admiration as a woman of singular penetration. She had the gift of being +able to listen with apparent interest to a conversation, throwing in the +necessary question here and there. When it was necessary to talk, she +could change her tactics and make conversation for the shy, reserved +man.</p> + +<p>They had not gone far to-day before Denis Quirk said to himself: "This +is a clever woman." He was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> not far wrong in this appreciation, for +Sylvia Jackson was undoubtedly clever. Before they had come to Grey Town +the two were laughing and joking with one another as though they had +known each other for years. For a woman to arrive at such intimate +relations with Denis Quirk in a short time was a triumph.</p> + +<p>Desmond O'Connor was awaiting Sylvia outside "The Lounge," as the big +emporium in Gressley St. was called. Seeing her approach with Denis +Quirk, his brows contracted slightly, but he met them smilingly.</p> + +<p>"You call this punctuality?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I call it feminine punctuality. If a woman fails to keep an appointment +by not more than half an hour, she is a model woman. I promised to meet +you at nine, and it is now barely twenty-five minutes past. Mr. Quirk, +could any woman achieve more than that?"</p> + +<p>"My acquaintance with women is so limited that I must refuse to +arbitrate. If I were Desmond, I should swear," answered Denis.</p> + +<p>"Have you been swearing, Desmond?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"If so, I have forgotten it. I am now the most supremely contented man +in the world," answered Desmond.</p> + +<p>"Well, good-bye, children!" cried Denis.</p> + +<p>He was surprised at himself for this speech; it was a frivolity that he +had never before been guilty of. But with Sylvia Jackson there were no +restraints, nor was his remark in the slightest degree extraordinary to +her. She called out after him as he went:</p> + +<p>"Don't forget our appointment after lunch."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p><p>"You have charmed the grizzly bear," said Desmond. "I believe you could +teach him to dance."</p> + +<p>"I intend to do that. Before I go away he shall dance to my music, the +dear old grizzly," she answered. "I intend to drop you handsome men and +cultivate the ugly ones. Denis Quirk is charming!"</p> + +<p>"I believe he is a good sort," said Desmond, who was above the pettiness +of deprecating a possible rival.</p> + +<p>"I am sure that you are the very best of good sorts. Now, what are we to +do?" she answered.</p> + +<p>"Walk along the cliffs, and see the grandest sight in Nature—the +eternal war between the ocean and the land," he answered.</p> + +<p>And Sylvia Jackson, who was artistic and emotional to an extreme degree, +fully agreed with him when she stood on the cliffs that tower over the +sea just two miles beyond the town.</p> + +<p>A strong wind was blowing from the south, the sun shining through a sky +dappled with fleecy broken white cloudlets. The spray sparkled in the +bright light before it broke into a rainbow of changing colours. Above +the big rollers the cliffs rose in broken perpendicular columns; there +was a constant roar in the ears as breaker after breaker hurled itself +on the rocks. Sea-birds wheeled about overhead. In the far distance the +ocean stretched out, to where a bank of clouds rested on the distant +horizon, in slopes and peaks, a perfect copy of snow-clad mountains.</p> + +<p>"Don't stand so close to the cliffs!" cried Desmond.</p> + +<p>She laughed at him mockingly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p><p>"You need have no fear for me. I am an ethereal spirit, a thing of +vapour," she answered.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't dare stand where you are; I should be drawn down. Good +heavens!"</p> + +<p>As he watched her she became suddenly pale and giddy. Seeing this, he +sprang and seized her in his arms, drawing her back, shaking and +trembling in every limb.</p> + +<p>"It was just in time," she said. "Another second and I was lost. +Suddenly a giddiness came over me, as if someone seized me and was +pulling me over the cliff. Take me away from this dreadful place."</p> + +<p>There were tears in her voice and in her eyes. She continued to sob +until they were remote from the sea. Then she suddenly asked, +laughingly:</p> + +<p>"Do you still imagine I am in danger that you continue to hold me?"</p> + +<p>"It was an opportunity I could not miss. Sylvia——," he said, sinking +his voice to the sentimental key.</p> + +<p>"Now, you must stop at once. Remember our compact. Once you become too +sentimental our friendship ends. Drop your arms by your side. That will +do. Now you may smile pleasantly and talk to me like a sensible man."</p> + +<p>It was a repulse, but it sounded rather as an invitation to continue the +siege in a less impulsive manner. So did Desmond construe what she had +said, and his spirits reflected the satisfaction which the belief +afforded him. When she joined them at lunch Kathleen found the two as +full of spirits as if they had been children. Their laughter and jests +were an offence to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> many who were lunching in the same room as they. To +these simple country folk the manners and style of the new school, to +which Sylvia Jackson belonged, were something as yet strange and +disagreeable. But the new school pays no attention to other people, and +rejoices in causing a sensation and outraging old-fashioned ideas.</p> + +<p>It was immediately after luncheon that Sylvia Jackson suggested:</p> + +<p>"We will go and visit Denis Quirk, and turn his office upside down."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you know Quirk," replied Desmond. "He's a martinet in +'The Mercury' office."</p> + +<p>"Oh, nonsense!" she cried. "Denis Quirk and I are like brother and +sister."</p> + +<p>She shot a quick glance at Kathleen to note the effect of this remark, +but Kathleen showed no sign of concern.</p> + +<p>"You will come with us, Kathleen," she continued, "and take a lesson +from me on the taming of bears. I positively love wild animals of the +human sort; they afford a natural tamer like me such a fund of +pleasure."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I will come," Kathleen replied.</p> + +<p>She was vaguely surprised at the welcome they received. Denis Quirk was +a new personality to her; for the moment he threw away his accustomed +gravity and joined with his guests in their frolics. He led them around +the office, introducing them in turn to each employe, from Cairns right +down to Tim O'Neill, now promoted to office boy and occasional +reporter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> He explained the mysteries of the printing room, and retailed +a score of newspaper anecdotes. Finally, he insisted on taking them to a +tea-room, and there ordering tea for the whole party.</p> + +<p>When he had parted from them to return to "The Mercury," Sylvia Jackson +asked:</p> + +<p>"What do you think of the martinet now? Can you suggest any other man in +Grey Town whom I can transform into something human?"</p> + +<p>"Ebenezer Brown," laughed Desmond O'Connor. "Why, there he comes, the +old rascal!"</p> + +<p>It was done in a moment. As the man came slowly up the street, Sylvia +Jackson dropped her purse in his path. It fell with a clink, and this it +probably was that caused Ebenezer Brown to stoop and pick it up.</p> + +<p>As he handed it back to her, Sylvia Jackson gave him a most gracious +smile.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, Mr. Brown!" she said.</p> + +<p>Ebenezer paused for a moment to ask:</p> + +<p>"You know me, young lady?"</p> + +<p>"You would not remember me, but I met you once, years ago. My name is +Sylvia Jackson."</p> + +<p>"Jackson?" grunted the old man. "Don't remember the name, but I +shouldn't forget you if I had met you once."</p> + +<p>He went along the street, chuckling in his throat in a dry, disagreeable +fashion he affected when amused.</p> + +<p>"You took a great risk in allowing old Eb. to hold your purse. How he +resisted an inclination to pocket it I can't for the life of me +understand," said Desmond O'Connor.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p><p>"Are there no other impossible men in Grey Town?" asked Sylvia Jackson. +"I feel so exalted by my two successes that I would love to discover a +really hardened woman-hater, and convert him to more humanitarian +principles."</p> + +<p>"Be content with what you have achieved, and devote your gifts to me," +said Desmond.</p> + +<p>Kathleen recognised that she was the unnecessary third, but they +protested that she must walk home with them, and managed to ignore her +presence entirely as they followed the dusty road to "Layton."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>DENIS REFUSES TO SPEAK.</h3> + +<p>Martin, the postman, was the most deliberate man in Grey Town. He never +hurried, and he never made a mistake. If he had twenty letters to +deliver at the same address, he would carefully read the address of each +one before taking the responsibility of handing it over to the +recipient. This accounted for the fact that Martin, the postman, was +invariably late.</p> + +<p>To Molly Healy, anxiously waiting at the Presbytery gate for the weekly +letter from Ireland, Martin was a constantly recurring cause of sin. So +keenly did she resent his leisurely methods that her indignation had +changed to anger, her anger almost to hatred, when she resolved to check +herself.</p> + +<p>"It must be stopped," she remarked to Mrs. Quirk, "or one day I will be +running at him with the pitchfork, and it would never do for the +priest's sister to be pursuing the postman through the town to destroy +him."</p> + +<p>"Sure, then, if I was you I would be praying for the man, returning good +for the evil he was doing you," said Mrs. Quirk.</p> + +<p>"But he doesn't mean it, and that is the worst of Martin. His conscience +is so big that it takes him all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> his time to carry it round. He's a +poor, good man, but it is murder I sometimes contemplate," cried Molly.</p> + +<p>At last she hit upon the device of giving Martin half an hour's grace +before expecting him.</p> + +<p>"I will be lenient with the man, and not expect him until he has +arrived," she said. "But it would do my heart good to pinch him."</p> + +<p>The half-hour had been prolonged to an hour, and Molly Healy was in a +white heat of fury when Martin arrived.</p> + +<p>"And what has kept you to-day?" cried Molly Healy. "You are the slowest +man in Grey Town, for sure, and that is saying you are phenomenally +slow."</p> + +<p>"You are angry," said Martin, in his most deliberate fashion.</p> + +<p>"Angry! I am just quivering with ungovernable temper. I could shake +you!"</p> + +<p>"You require your letters delivered by a twenty horse-power auto-motor," +replied Martin.</p> + +<p>Therewith he began to run through the letters with a deliberation that +was almost cruel.</p> + +<p>"When you have done shuffling the cards, perhaps you will give me the +one you have in your hand," cried Molly.</p> + +<p>"Patience, young lady. I have a duty to perform——."</p> + +<p>"Your duty is to give me my letter. If you only knew how near you were +to sudden death you would be in haste to get away from me."</p> + +<p>"There you are, five letters—one for you. Let me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> see; is it for you?" +Martin began to read the address over.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the Lord forgive you! You are an occasion of sin to me."</p> + +<p>"Patience, Miss Molly! Here you are, and good-day to you. The Lord send +you a better temper!"</p> + +<p>Martin delivered the letters, and proceeded placidly on his path of +duty. Molly Healy watched him until he had turned a distant corner.</p> + +<p>"The man will never get to heaven—he is too slow; and he will prevent +me getting there unless Providence removes him to another round."</p> + +<p>She carried the letters to Father Healy, and then proceeded to shut +herself in her room, and there absorb the news from Ireland. In laughter +and in tears she read her letter, and then re-read it, determined to +lose not one word of the contents.</p> + +<p>Dr. Marsh was with Father Healy when the letters came.</p> + +<p>"May I read them?" the priest asked.</p> + +<p>"Certainly! Why not?" replied the doctor in his brusque manner. "I will +digest a slice of theology."</p> + +<p>He took a book from the table and opened it.</p> + +<p>"I hope it will agree with you," laughed Father Healy, as he tore the +first letter open.</p> + +<p>"Humph!" grunted Dr. Marsh. "When I am dying I will send for you; +meanwhile I am quite content to remain a sinner."</p> + +<p>Father Healy did not reply. He had become keenly interested in his +letter. Twice he read it, and then he asked:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p><p>"Where was it that Denis Quirk told you he was editing that paper of +his?"</p> + +<p>"'The Firebrand?'" asked Dr. Marsh, who had become absorbed in the book +he was reading.</p> + +<p>"Yes! yes!" cried the priest.</p> + +<p>"I don't exactly remember. I fancy it was Goldenvale. You had better ask +Denis. Now, I can't agree with this," said the doctor, referring to +something he had just read.</p> + +<p>"I will controvert with you in due season. Just now I am worried. You +are a safe and reliable man. Read this."</p> + +<p>Father Healy handed the letter to Dr. Marsh, who having glanced at it, +became deeply interested in the contents.</p> + +<p>"Goldenvale! Do you know this man?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"How should I?" replied the priest, almost irritably. "Could you expect +me to know every priest in America? But I could find out if there were +such a man."</p> + +<p>"I would take this letter to Denis Quirk, and allow him to deny it. It's +a lie, a palpable lie. I am sure of that."</p> + +<p>"And so am I; but lies are more readily credited in Grey Town than the +truth. I will see Denis Quirk at once. Will you come with me?" asked +Father Healy.</p> + +<p>"Not to 'The Mercury' office, but a part of the way. Put your hat on +while I finish what I was reading."</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk was in the outer office as Father Healy entered. He was +inditing a letter to Tim O'Neill<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>, who now claimed, among his other +qualifications, a certificate as a typewriter.</p> + +<p>"Good-day, Father Healy!" cried Denis Quirk. "What can I do for you? A +paragraph to encourage your congregation to build the new school?"</p> + +<p>"Not at present, Mr. Quirk. If you will give me five minutes, I will ask +no more."</p> + +<p>"Then come into my room. Finish that, address it, and post it, Tim."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. And might I then go down to the hall and report that +meeting?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Tim. This is the keenest man on my staff, Father."</p> + +<p>Tim O'Neill beamed all over at this praise, and he settled himself +resolutely to his task. Meanwhile Denis Quirk's office door closed with +a bang on Father Healy and himself.</p> + +<p>"I should like you to read this," said the priest, as he handed the +fateful letter to Denis Quirk.</p> + +<p>The latter took it and read it frowningly. Then he leaned back in his +chair, and regarded the priest with a composed face.</p> + +<p>"Well?" asked Father Healy.</p> + +<p>"Well?" responded Denis.</p> + +<p>"You will, of course, deny the calumny?"</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk shook his head.</p> + +<p>"The writer is a good man and a priest. As for the accusation, let time +be the judge. I shall neither acknowledge nor deny it. There are others +concerned besides myself."</p> + +<p>Father Healy was for the moment bereft of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> power of speech. He could +not understand Denis Quirk's attitude. At last he cried:</p> + +<p>"You are accused of being a divorced man!"</p> + +<p>"If I am, the action was not from me. I then adopted the attitude I now +propose to adopt. I merely sat quiet. There are persons concerned in +this whom I refuse to injure."</p> + +<p>"And what do you intend to do?" asked Father Healy. "There will be a +horrible scandal in Grey Town."</p> + +<p>"I shall do what I did in the States—just live it down and wait. Time +will put everything straight," said Denis Quirk.</p> + +<p>"Your wife has married again?" the priest asked.</p> + +<p>"I believe she has. Father Healy, all that I ask of you is your +confidence and trust. There is certain to be a storm, but I am strong +enough to stand it. I don't wish to lose my friends, you least of all. +Will you believe in me?"</p> + +<p>Father Healy looked in the man's eyes, and Denis Quirk met his gaze +unflinchingly. He was particularly ugly that day, but Father Healy could +read human nature, and he believed that Denis Quirk was honest.</p> + +<p>"I would have preferred you to have proved yourself innocent," he said.</p> + +<p>"I cannot do that; others can. It is for them to speak, not me," replied +Denis.</p> + +<p>"I promise that I will hold to you," said the priest.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Father. If you will do that—you, the old mother, and one +other—I am content," he said.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p><p>As the good priest left "The Mercury" in a particularly dejected frame +of mind, he found Dr. Marsh waiting for him.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he said. "A canard, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>Father Healy made no reply.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to tell me——," cried the doctor.</p> + +<p>"I believe he is a wronged man, but he refuses to speak."</p> + +<p>"I must speak to him myself. Don't wait for me, Father. Just get away +home, and pray that a miracle may put this straight."</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk was still sitting as the priest had left him when Dr. Marsh +burst in upon him, and plumped down on the chair that had been vacated +by Father Healy.</p> + +<p>"See here, Quirk," he began, without further explanation, "I am a man of +the world, and I know the utmost capabilities of human wickedness. I +don't believe you are a real libertine. But I know Grey Town. Many a dog +has been hanged here because of his bad name. You must disprove this."</p> + +<p>"No, doctor. If you knew my story you would recognise the strength of my +position. I must trust to time to put things straight."</p> + +<p>"They will start another paper and fight you."</p> + +<p>"Let them. That is what I want, a good fight," replied Denis. "Someone +whom I can hit—hard!"</p> + +<p>"And what if I withdraw my capital?"</p> + +<p>"You won't do that, doctor," replied Denis, with a quiet smile. "I know +you."</p> + +<p>"Well, Quirk, I'll tell you what I think of you—a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> clever, Quixotic +fool. But I will stand by you to the end. I am a sort of Ishmaelite; +nothing pleases me better than an exchange of hard blows."</p> + +<p>The two men shook hands in silence, and Dr. Marsh went out to find +Father Healy waiting for him.</p> + +<p>"We are a pair of idiots, you and I," said the doctor. "We ought to +unite in hooting Denis Quirk out of Grey Town, but we shall fight for +him to the finish. He is too ugly to be hopelessly wicked," he added, +after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Then you and I are not altogether bad," laughed the priest.</p> + +<p>They walked in silence to the doctor's gate.</p> + +<p>"Won't you come in?" he asked, as they paused to say good-bye.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you. It is a strange thing I should have received the +Bishop's letter to-day," said Father Healy, reflectively.</p> + +<p>Dr. Marsh could not grasp the meaning of this remark, so he refrained +from comment on it.</p> + +<p>"The Bishop wishes me to take a six months' holiday," continued the +priest.</p> + +<p>"You have earned it by hard work. A most reasonable suggestion. Take a +rest before you die suddenly," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>"And he suggests that I return to the old home in County Cork," added +Father Healy.</p> + +<p>"Naturally. Where would you go but to Ireland?"</p> + +<p>"Why not America? It is a great country, and cousins of my own in every +city. It might be I would find a cousin in Goldenvale itself."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p><p>"Goldenvale! Father Healy, you are a strange man, a many-sided man, but +I don't think you are the best fitted person I would select to be +discovering other men's secrets."</p> + +<p>"Denis Quirk won't help himself. I intend to help him," said the priest.</p> + +<p>"And if you prove him guilty?"</p> + +<p>"No man need know but that I went to Cork, after all. But something +tells me I shall find him innocent."</p> + +<p>"I am prepared to lay 6 to 4 on that myself. Well, Providence go with +you, for you deserve it; and if you require money——," said Dr. Marsh.</p> + +<p>"Not one penny. I have a small income of my own, inherited from my +mother, God rest her soul! Molly shall go to the Finns, in Brunswick. +The change will do her good. And no one need know but that I am in +Cork."</p> + +<p>"In Cork you shall be, if I have to perjure my soul to prove it!" cried +Dr. Marsh. "No man shall come near me when I come to die but you, for +you are the best man living."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>"AND ONE OTHER!"</h3> + +<p>The Grey River was in flood. It came down the valley a torrent of yellow +water, rushing madly between the rocks where the channel was narrow, +spreading out far and wide over the low-lying meads, bearing with it the +trunks of trees and other debris snatched up along its course. It had +overflowed the lower bridge, and rendered it impassable to traffic; the +upper bridge was threatened by the turbulent river.</p> + +<p>There had been storms far up among the mountains, where the Grey takes +its origin, and rains all down the valley. From every small stream and +gully a volume of clay-coloured water flowed into the main stream. But +the day was bright and sunny after the rain. The sunshine glittered on +the yellow surface of the stream, and on the green fields sloping +upwards from it. Viewed from the distant hills, the Grey valley was a +shining, sparkling amber, encased in an emerald setting.</p> + +<p>Kathleen O'Connor had viewed the flood with concern. On the further bank +of the river was Mrs. Sheridan's small cottage, where a poor widow +struggled to keep a large family by milking on the share system. +Kathleen knew that one of the children<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> was seriously ill, and that the +mother, always living from hand to mouth, but always carrying a brave +face, would be seriously encumbered by Michael's sickness. She feared, +too, that the flood waters might even reach to the little cottage, with +disastrous results.</p> + +<p>"Shall I ride over and see how Mrs. Sheridan is?" she asked, when the +heavy rain had ceased, and sunshine was raising a warm vapour from the +sodden earth.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" replied Mrs. Quirk. "It will do you good—and Sylvia, too."</p> + +<p>Sylvia Jackson still remained at "Layton." She had come prepared to +spend a monotonous fortnight at Grey Town, because she was tired of the +city. But she had remained at "Layton" day after day, accommodating +herself to the inhabitants and to the routine of the house. No one +resented her presence, nor did anyone desire her departure, for she had +made herself pleasant to all. In Mrs. Quirk's eyes she stood second only +to Kathleen. Samuel Quirk regarded her as chief critic and adviser on +the estate, and to Kathleen she was a cheerful, madcap companion, who +reminded her that she was yet young. Denis Quirk's sentiments in regard +to the girl he carefully concealed from the outside world, even from +Sylvia herself. He was polite and deferential, yet humorous, with her; +but she would have liked him to demonstrate clearly that he had enrolled +himself among her bodyguard. She had given him abundant opportunities so +to do, walking almost daily into the town with him, paying flying visits +to "The Mercury" office, and playing dreamy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> music while he smoked his +evening pipe. But Denis Quirk made no sign.</p> + +<p>When Kathleen O'Connor proposed to ride round and see the Sheridans, +Sylvia was painting. She was an adept at every variety of artistic work. +Of any of the arts she might have made a success had she been content to +devote her talent solely to that one; but she was too versatile to be +completely successful, and while everything was good, nothing was +perfect.</p> + +<p>"I would love to go with you," she cried.</p> + +<p>"And I will meet you at the lower bridge and ride home with you," said +Denis Quirk.</p> + +<p>In accordance with this arrangement, the two girls rode towards Mrs. +Sheridan's after breakfast. Kathleen O'Connor was a perfect horsewoman. +Sylvia Jackson, on the other hand, was unused to horses, and very +nervous; but she was too proud to confess the fact. Kathleen, while +recognising Sylvia's lack of capacity was too charitable to comment upon +it. She had protested once, when her friend asked to be allowed to ride +a rather high-spirited horse, but when Sylvia retorted hotly, Kathleen +offered no further opposition. Thus it came about that Sylvia rode in +constant dread, and made a nervous, fidgety horse a thousand times more +irritable.</p> + +<p>The road towards the upper bridge that crosses the Grey at Swynford is +bordered by stretches of green grass. Along this the two girls rode at +an easy canter, saving when Dr. Marsh's car rushed past, the doctor +driving furiously, as was his way. This incident upset Sylvia's horse +for a considerable time, but he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> quietened down into an easy canter in +the deserted bye-road that leads from Swynford, along the farther bank +of the Grey, to Mrs. Sheridan's.</p> + +<p>At a rise in the road they paused to look down on the cottage. It stood +surrounded by pine trees, with a small garden around it. It was a +demonstration of Mrs. Sheridan's perpetual industry that she found time +to keep the garden in order, despite her numberless other duties. A +bright little patch of gay colours she had made of it, and behind it she +had cultivated a neat kitchen garden.</p> + +<p>"The river has not done any harm to Mrs. Sheridan's cottage," cried +Kathleen, with great relief, as she viewed the flood waters, still +several feet below the level of the garden.</p> + +<p>"Can you understand anyone living in such a poky, ramshackle little +hovel?" asked Sylvia. "I would rather be dead and buried than live +there."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Sheridan cannot choose; she must live there or die. She is a great +woman," said Kathleen.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sheridan met them at the gate, clean, tidy, and talkative. She was +noted throughout the district for her loquacity, but, if she spoke at +great length, she always spoke kindly.</p> + +<p>"Is it you, Miss O'Connor?" she cried. "Sure, it was like yourself to be +thinking of me and Michael. Michael and me, we was thinking of you. Only +last Sunday I said to the boy, 'Miss Kathleen will be going to Mass,' +the which I couldn't do myself, and more is the pity; but when Dan was +down with the chickenpox, Father Healy himself, no less, the Lord bless +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> good man! told me it was my duty to be with Dan. 'The Lord will +excuse you from the chapel,' he said to me, 'and you can read the Mass +to Dan.' The which I did to Michael here, and him listening to me as if +he understood it all, every word. But won't you come inside, you and the +young lady? You will be excusing the house, miss; and if you would be +taking a cup of tea or a glass of milk, there's no spirits in the house +to be offering you, for I think it is putting temptation in the way of +some that's too fond of it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we will come inside and see Michael," cried Kathleen. "And if we +might have a cup of tea——."</p> + +<p>"Not for me," Sylvia whispered; "I couldn't drink tea in a place like +this."</p> + +<p>"To be sure," cried Mrs. Sheridan, not hearing Sylvia's comment. +"Michael will be pleased to see you. Doesn't he call you 'Pretty Miss +Kathie'? But you will excuse the liberty in a boy. He is recovering, the +doctor says, which himself was here to-day, and the car stuck out there +in the mud, and the doctor swearing! Michael could hear him in his bed, +which it wasn't good for the boy to hear. But the doctor is too kind, +for sure, to mean any harm, even to the car, and Michael and me +pretended not to hear him, nor to know that he was angry. The Lord will +overlook the words he used to the car and the council that should be +taking care of the roads."</p> + +<p>Kathleen hitched her own and Sylvia's horse to the fence, and entered a +small, but wonderfully clean, room, that served as a kitchen and general +sitting-room for the family. Here they found Michael, a boy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> of four, +the baby of a family of nine. The other children had gone, as a troop, +to the State school at Swynford. There they would remain all day, to +return and assist at the milking, such of them as were capable.</p> + +<p>Kathleen sat down beside the boy, and began to entertain him. In a few +minutes the two were laughing together, as became old friends. Kathleen +had brought sundry gifts with her, among them a sovereign, which she +slipped under his pillow, to be discovered after she had gone.</p> + +<p>Sylvia sat rigidly on her chair, absorbing the scene with her apparently +sleepy eyes; while Mrs. Sheridan bustled about, talking unceasingly, as +she spread a clean table cloth and prepared the tea for her guests.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear such a rain? And the wind! The Lord preserve us; it +was praying Michael and me was, the others fast asleep, that the cottage +might not be blown away, and us in it. It was like the night himself +died. I was sitting here beside him, watching to see him flicker out. He +died as peaceful as a child—just one smile for me, and he was gone. An' +me alone in the house with him. Mrs. Smith that would have been beside +me—she's dead herself now, God rest her soul, for she was a good +neighbour—the rain and wind prevented her and many another. And there I +sat beside him, as I sat beside Michael, listening to the rain beating +on the window and roof, and the trees groaning as if in mortal anguish, +and the house creaking, and outside the river and sea roaring. It was +praying I was for the morning, for the night makes the storm more +fearsome. Now, sit down,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> Miss O'Connor, and you, miss; the tea is made. +It's only bread and butter I can offer yous, but it is all I have, and +welcome you are to it."</p> + +<p>Kathleen sat down, but Sylvia Jackson, to Mrs. Sheridan's intense +concern, refused to eat or drink.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, I am not hungry," she said.</p> + +<p>Kathleen was hurt by what she regarded as a want of courtesy. Everything +was scrupulously clean, if poor, and the widow willingly gave all that +she possessed. To make amends for her friend's refusal, Kathleen drank +more tea and consumed a larger amount of bread and butter than she had +ever done before. Then, after a chat on the affairs of Grey Town, which +Mrs. Sheridan made a kind of prolonged solo, Kathleen and Sylvia rose to +go.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sheridan followed them to the gate, talking vigorously. As they +rode away her voice might still be heard as she chanted Kathleen's +praises to Michael.</p> + +<p>"What a dreadful woman!" said Sylvia.</p> + +<p>Kathleen was already deeply hurt by her friend's conduct, and she fired +up into intense indignation at this remark.</p> + +<p>"Dreadful!" she cried. "Mrs. Sheridan is a good, honest woman. She has +given her life for her children, and she is the soul of good nature."</p> + +<p>Sylvia laughed good-humouredly at this championship.</p> + +<p>"A very excellent person, no doubt," she said, "but an ungovernable +tongue. She never ceased talking while we were there. No wonder himself +died <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>peacefully. How he must have longed for death—and peace!"</p> + +<p>"You don't understand——," Kathleen began.</p> + +<p>"I don't profess to understand. I belong to another school to you. My +set detests the prosaic and commonplace; we must have the clever and +original. Platitudes are detestable to us, unless they come clothed in a +brilliant metaphor. Homely virtues I neither pretend to understand or +admire. I much prefer eccentricity, even clever vice."</p> + +<p>Kathleen laughed tolerantly, recognising that further argument or +expostulation was vain.</p> + +<p>"Shall we try the lower bridge?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Of course we must. Denis Quirk is to meet us, and I wouldn't disappoint +him for anything. Now, there is a man after my own heart, strikingly +ugly, so ugly as to be beautiful, and wonderfully clever, sometimes so +rude as to be quite original, full of a sardonic humour—an absolutely +unique type. Denis Quirk is the sort of man I might condescend to love, +and if ever I do love it will be like that river in flood down there."</p> + +<p>The road ran high above a rocky gorge, through which the Grey was +rushing in a turbulent torrent of water. It roared as it went, and +leaped up angrily at the rocks on either side, foaming and bubbling, +swirling into small whirlpools, as if in an impotent passion at the +constraint.</p> + +<p>Kathleen looked at the flood, and then at Sylvia's sleepy face and +dreamy eyes.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if you could love?" she asked.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p><p>"I wonder, too. Sometimes I scoff at the very thought of such a thing, +and sometimes I believe that I could be as wild and turbulent as the +river is to-day."</p> + +<p>Beyond the gorge the river widens out into a broad estuary before it +enters the sea. It is across this estuary that the lower bridge has been +built. Just below it is the bar, where river and sea were battling in a +wild confusion.</p> + +<p>When Kathleen saw that the bridge was half submerged, and that the +current was still strong, though not to be compared in violence with the +maelstrom that poured through the gorge, she reined her horse in.</p> + +<p>"We must turn round and ride home the way we came," she said.</p> + +<p>"Turn around? Why should we? I intend to cross. I can see Denis Quirk on +the farther bank."</p> + +<p>"And he is warning us to turn back," said Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"The more reason to go on. Follow me if you dare."</p> + +<p>Seeing that Sylvia was determined to cross, Kathleen urged her own horse +alongside of Sylvia's, and seized her friend's rein.</p> + +<p>"You shall not go on!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Let go of my reins!" said Sylvia.</p> + +<p>Kathleen recognised the note of anger in the voice, and saw that the +customarily sleepy eyes were flashing, and that there was a line of +determination on the usually smooth forehead. But this did not influence +her.</p> + +<p>"No. I will not let go," she replied.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p><p>Sylvia Jackson raised her whip. Once it fell smartly on Kathleen's +hand, leaving a red wheal; still Kathleen held on. But when the blow was +repeated more viciously than before, with a cry of pain she released the +rein.</p> + +<p>"Do you imagine you can stop me, with Denis Quirk on the other side?" +Sylvia asked, and urged her horse on to the flooded bridge. I have +already said that Sylvia was not an expert rider; her horse realised the +fact, and faced the water with a snort of terror. The handrail of the +bridge alone appeared above the muddy stream; even this was submerged +occasionally as a wave rolled up from the turbulent bar, barely one +hundred yards below the bridge.</p> + +<p>The horse began to rear in terror, threatening every moment to plunge +over the rail of the bridge into the stream. Kathleen, behind, could do +nothing but follow, while from the further bank a small collection of +men and women watched in a panic that prevented action. But Denis Quirk +was quick of thought and prompt to do; he sprang from his horse and +dashed along the flooded bridge towards Sylvia.</p> + +<p>"Sit still!" he cried. "Keep your rein loose, and get your feet free +from the stirrups."</p> + +<p>Scarcely realising what she was doing, Sylvia obeyed him. He attempted +to seize the horses' rein, but the animal was maddened with terror, and +kept turning away from him. At last, however, Denis managed to throw his +arm around Sylvia and drag her from the saddle. Immediately after, +whether still further frightened by his action or bewildered by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +water, the horse reared over the handrail into the flooded river. He was +washed almost to the bar, but managed to reach the further shore, and +gallop home to his stable at "Layton."</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk carried Sylvia across the bridge, followed by Kathleen, +whose horse went quietly through the flood secure in his rider's +composure. On reaching the farther side, Denis realised that Sylvia had +fainted. There was, however, a small hotel close at hand, and here Denis +left the girl, safe in a kindly landlady's care.</p> + +<p>He found Kathleen dismounting from her horse, her face very pale from +the anxiety that Sylvia's danger had caused her.</p> + +<p>"Why did you allow her to do such a foolish thing?" he asked, abruptly.</p> + +<p>Kathleen held her hand, with the marks of the whip still on it, out of +his sight. It was not for her to tell him how her attempts to restrain +Sylvia had been received.</p> + +<p>"It was against my wish that she crossed the bridge," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Even for you it was a madcap thing to do," he said. "You can never +trust a horse in such a flood as this. I have telephoned for the motor; +you and she had better go home in it, while I take charge of your horse. +You have caused me a terrible anxiety."</p> + +<p>He turned away, leaving Kathleen scarcely able to control her +mortification and annoyance. Denis Quirk had, she told herself, +disregarded her danger, and spoken to her like a disobedient child. By +what right<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> did he lecture her or hold her responsible for Sylvia's +wilfulness? When the landlady came to ask if she would come to her +friend, it was on the tip of her tongue to refuse but she restrained +herself by a great effort, and went into the room.</p> + +<p>Sylvia was sitting on a couch, very pale, but smiling placidly. As +Kathleen entered, tears came into her eyes, and she asked in a penitent +voice:</p> + +<p>"Can you ever forgive me? I can't forgive myself for striking you. But +no one has ever attempted to prevent me from having my own way, and I +was resolved to go on. I have been sufficiently punished."</p> + +<p>"Never mind about it now," said Kathleen. "You did not realise the +risk."</p> + +<p>"I shall never forget it! Let me look at your hand. Did I do that? Oh, +how cruel of me to strike you! You won't tell Denis Quirk that I did +it?"</p> + +<p>Kathleen, who had begun to feel her anger slowly evaporating, became +suddenly as indignant towards Sylvia as she had been prior to the +latter's apology. It was evident to her that it was not because of the +injury Sylvia had done her, but lest she should complain to Denis Quirk, +that Sylvia was asking forgiveness.</p> + +<p>"I have no intention of telling Denis Quirk," she answered, coldly.</p> + +<p>"Now, don't be angry, Kathleen—please. I am a spoiled girl, I know. +Everybody has conspired to spoil me. I am impulsive and passionate, but +no one has checked me. Let that be my excuse."</p> + +<p>She put her arm around Kathleen and drew her down on the couch beside +her.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p><p>"Kiss me," she said, "and say you forgive me. There, that's a dear! Now +tell me exactly what happened. It is a blank to me."</p> + +<p>Kathleen told her exactly what had taken place, Sylvia listening with +intense interest.</p> + +<p>"Isn't he brave?" she asked. "And he took me in his arms, and never +thought of you! What if your horse had gone over the bridge after mine?"</p> + +<p>"Denis Quirk knows that I can ride 'Douglas' anywhere," Kathleen +answered.</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," said Sylvia; "but he might have made sure of the fact. I +think he is splendid. All those other men stood gaping on the bank, and +he was the only one to act. It is a moment like that that proves a man. +Scores of admirers have told me what they would do for me, but only one +man has done—only one," she added, dreamily.</p> + +<p>That evening Kathleen was restless; the day's adventure had disturbed +her more than she was aware of. After tea, having made Mrs. Quirk +comfortable, she slipped on a thin lace shawl and went quietly into the +garden. Walking about in the evening stillness, her accustomed composure +returned to her. Presently she slipped into a summer-house, and sat down +to think placidly.</p> + +<p>As she sat there, she heard voices, and, to her surprise, Denis Quirk +and Sylvia paused directly in front of the summer-house. The very +thought of eavesdropping was repugnant to her, but they were speaking so +quickly and earnestly that she had heard part of their conversation +before she could interrupt it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> Remembering Sylvia Jackson's passion, +possibly fearing an outburst of malice, Kathleen kept very quiet, +resolved never to give a sign of what she knew.</p> + +<p>"You saved my life," Sylvia said, "and I could refuse you nothing. Ask +anything of me in return."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" Denis answered, laughingly. "You exaggerate what I have +done."</p> + +<p>"You say that because you are brave. Brave men laugh at their own +courage, as you do. But I know, and I worship you!"</p> + +<p>The last words were spoken almost in a whisper, and in the tender voice +that Sylvia Jackson was mistress of. But for once the words rang true. +Kathleen held her breath, wondering what any man could do when so spoken +to by such a woman as Sylvia.</p> + +<p>Denis answered curtly, almost rudely:</p> + +<p>"My dear young lady, please don't weave any absurd romances about me. I +am an ordinary and very commonplace man, not accustomed to soft words +from pretty women. Take my advice and go home to your parents; forget +about me as quickly as you can. I have no intention of ever marrying, +and I don't pretend to be a lady's man. Now, go inside, like a good +girl, and forget to-day."</p> + +<p>"Forget!" Kathleen noted a change in Sylvia's voice. "I shall never +forget to-night."</p> + +<p>Their voices and steps grew fainter, until they were finally lost to +Kathleen's ears. After a few minutes she also went towards the house. +Denis Quirk stood higher in her estimation than ever he had done before. +He had been severely tempted, and had put the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>temptation behind him. +Sylvia Jackson was what is termed a man's woman, but Kathleen could +realise the fascination she was mistress of. She had been courted by +many men; to-night she had thrown herself at Denis Quirk's feet, and he +had resisted where other men might have succumbed. With these thoughts +in her mind, Kathleen greeted Denis Quirk kindly when he met her near +the house.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I was rude to you to-day," he said, without preamble. "I +spoke without thinking. I want you to excuse me."</p> + +<p>"I do," she answered, simply.</p> + +<p>"Naturally, you were hurt," he said. "Believe me when I say that I would +rather offend anyone than you. I place very few women among the +heroines, but you are one of them. For any other I would have been +afraid in the flood; I knew that you were safe. That was the reason why +I offered you no help. My fears were for your friend. I am fully +forgiven?"</p> + +<p>"Fully," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Thank you! That is all I want. Good-night!"</p> + +<p>He turned on his heel, and went down the avenue on his way to "The +Mercury" office.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>DESMOND GOES UNDER.</h3> + +<p>In the period of pique and disappointment, when she realised that Denis +Quirk was impervious to her attractions, Sylvia Jackson suddenly awoke +to a new interest in life. At the moment she was hesitating between an +interesting decline and a fearful vendetta. But this did not deter her +from attending the Grey Town Intellectual Society's lecture on Art and +Artists, which was delivered by George Custance, R.A., nor did it +prevent the lecturer from fascinating the impressionable girl.</p> + +<p>Until that moment Grey Town was unaware that Custance existed. A few of +the townspeople had occasionally noticed a man in a grey suit, who was +living at the "Fisherman's Retreat," near the mouth of the Grey River. +They had seen him handling a rod from the banks of the river, and had +sometimes observed him with a sketch-book in his hand, transferring a +view of the coast to paper.</p> + +<p>But he was so quiet and unobtrusive that few persons paid any great +attention to him. It was indeed entirely by chance that the Intellectual +Society secured his services. The secretary wrote to an artist friend in +Melbourne, suggesting a lecture; the answer was short and concise: +"Sorry I cannot find time to amuse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> you. Try Claude Custance; he knows +more about art than any other man in Australia."</p> + +<p>"Try Custance! Who the dickens is Custance?" the secretary asked the +president.</p> + +<p>"Blessed if I know. Ask Gurner; he is sure to know," the president +answered.</p> + +<p>In the club Gurner was nicknamed the Grey Town Directory. He was +regarded as a local Burke, who could fire off the pedigrees and +performances of every family in the district.</p> + +<p>The secretary discovered him in the club, taking a novice down at +billiards.</p> + +<p>"Do you know a man of the name of Custance?" the secretary began.</p> + +<p>Gurner prided himself on his knowledge. To be unable to point out the +identity of any person in the town was to ruin a reputation. He paused +abruptly from the stroke he was contemplating.</p> + +<p>"Custance, did you say?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; Custance, an artist."</p> + +<p>"There is a grey man of that name at the 'Fisherman's Retreat.' He is a +bit of an artist, they tell me. I will ask Cowley," he said.</p> + +<p>A few days later he found the secretary in his office.</p> + +<p>"I have found out all about that artist man," he said.</p> + +<p>"Custance? Does he know anything about art?"</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything about law? He's a classic winner, the very deuce +of a top-notcher. He's been hung over and over again. You can't teach +him anything about art," replied Gurner.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p><p>"I wonder if he would lecture for us?"</p> + +<p>"Leave him to me. A nice fellow; we fraternised over fishing, with a +whisky and soda to wash it down. He began to tell me tall stories, and I +added six inches to everyone he produced. I will secure him for you."</p> + +<p>This he did the following day, for Custance was quite an obliging man, +and a personal friend of the artist who had refused the invitation.</p> + +<p>The news spread, as it usually does in a country town, and interest in +the lecture became phenomenally keen. The intellectuals had for once +secured public support. They promptly raised their charge for admission +from sixpence to one shilling, with an additional sixpence for booking. +They advertised the attraction in capital letters and created a furore. +The consequence was that the learned and those who assumed the virtue +combined to fill the hall to overflowing.</p> + +<p>Custance was an ideal lecturer. He took possession of the platform and +audience in an easy, unassuming manner, and delivered an address amusing +and learned, yet understandable. And well he might, for he was not a +mere painter, but one who had lectured on art to select audiences, and +had sold pictures at fabulous prices. At this very moment London was +asking, "Where is Custance?" and here he was in Grey Town.</p> + +<p>The town would have made much of him had he permitted it. But he was +there for work and quiet. A shoal of invitations were fired at him and +refused; he preferred to lapse into obscurity. A few of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> more +obtrusive attempted to force their society on him: to these he was +frankly rude. The more tactful fell in with his humour, and were content +to nod to him.</p> + +<p>Sylvia Jackson was introduced, but beyond a passing glance of admiration +Custance relegated her to forgetfulness. She was, however, determined to +know him, and she engineered a second meeting with her usual diplomacy.</p> + +<p>"A picnic to the beach would be ideal," she suggested. "Not to the +frequented part, but to that quiet little beach near the mouth of the +Grey. Just ourselves, Mrs. Quirk, you and Kathleen, and I."</p> + +<p>She knew that Custance was sketching a seascape not far from that spot.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" asked Mrs. Quirk. "What more should we want? You and Kathleen +are all I need—with Denis to come to tea, if he has the time."</p> + +<p>"Sorry to disappoint you," said Denis Quirk, "but I must be at the +office all day. Cairns is away on holiday, and not a man with any +initiative but Tim O'Neill to support me."</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk's absence was a great relief to Sylvia Jackson. She still +entertained a tender admiration for him, but, as he continued to resist +her fascinations, she preferred that he should not be present to +frustrate or ridicule her plans. Mrs. Quirk and Kathleen were easily +duped, but she feared the penetration of Denis Quirk. Nevertheless she +made pretence of a great disappointment.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p><p>"We counted on you," she remarked in an agonised voice.</p> + +<p>"Never count on a paper man. We are the most unreliable people in the +world," he answered. "Make the old mother happy, and don't keep her out +too late."</p> + +<p>With these words he went down the avenue whistling the air of a melody +that Kathleen had sung the night before.</p> + +<p>Sylvia had studied her plans with the greatest care, and she put them +into action when they were safely arrived at the strip of beach that +lies beyond the river bar.</p> + +<p>"You and Granny prefer to be alone," she told Kathleen. "I intend to +take my sketch book and see what I can do with the view round the +point."</p> + +<p>Therewith she sauntered away, giving them no time to protest. The spot +she had chosen for her sketch is one of the most magnificent on the +coast.</p> + +<p>It is a small patch of sand, terminated towards the east by black +precipitous rocks, against which the sea is perpetually pounding in +great breakers. On this day the sea was a wonderful dark blue, and very +peaceful, save where it thundered at the base of the cliffs. On the +horizon a bank of grey clouds rested on the water like a remote island +crowned with mounts and peaks. The smoke of a distant steamer rose in an +almost straight line upwards; nearer the shore a small fishing boat was +moving gently backwards and forwards, its sails barely filled by the +gentle breeze. There was a sense of rest in the scene, as if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> the ocean +were slumbering after the strife of a few days previously.</p> + +<p>Here Sylvia found the artist, working quietly at a picture that he had +almost completed. He had caught the vivid colouring of the ocean, the +grey bank of clouds and the distant smoke, and had transferred them to +his canvas.</p> + +<p>Sylvia approached and stood behind him, but he did not recognise her +presence, for he was absorbed in his work.</p> + +<p>"How do you contrive——," Sylvia began.</p> + +<p>Custance turned towards her with a quick start, for, like other artists, +he had nerves that were peculiarly sensitive and reacted acutely to +impressions. Seeing that the questioner was a beautiful girl, he +regarded her with a kindly smile.</p> + +<p>"Forgive my rudeness," said Sylvia, "the question was almost +involuntary."</p> + +<p>"The question is not yet completed. How do I contrive——?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"How do you contrive to snatch up the colours of nature and place them +on your canvas?"</p> + +<p>"I have all the colours there," he said, pointing to his palette, "and +so has every painter; but some of us approach nearer to Nature. I have +never yet succeeded in quite pleasing myself. I have the deep blue of +the sea, but not the representation of infinite depth and infinite +power."</p> + +<p>"You approach very closely to it," she answered. "Now sit down and +paint, and let me watch you. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> am a painter myself; not an artist like +you, but one who dabbles a little in an amateur fashion."</p> + +<p>"May I see your sketch book?" he asked, and took it from her hand. "Very +good!" he cried. "Shall I tell you what I think?"</p> + +<p>"Please do!"</p> + +<p>"You might be an artist, if you were content with that alone; but you +are too versatile. Am I right? The result is great possibilities that +will never be realised unless you concentrate your power on one thing."</p> + +<p>"Let me watch you," she said, "and I will resolve to do nothing but +paint."</p> + +<p>She sat on a sand bank behind him, and he painted his picture, turning +occasionally to speak to her.</p> + +<p>At last she rose unwillingly.</p> + +<p>"I must go, or my friends will fancy I am lost. May I come here again +and take a few more lessons?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, if you will. I shall be delighted. But when this picture is +completed I pack up my effects and go. It is a pity you do not live in +Melbourne," he added regretfully.</p> + +<p>"But I do," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Then you must come to me and study the finishing touches of your art. +You need only a few more details and you will be an artist."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are too kind!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Not at all. It is a privilege to encourage talent," he answered. +Nevertheless had she not been an attractive woman, he would not have +offered his assistance so willingly.</p> + +<p>"I suppose your parents will not object?" he asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> "You can assure +them I am a most trustworthy young man."</p> + +<p>"My parents allow me to do exactly what I wish," she answered. "You see, +they can trust me," she added, smilingly.</p> + +<p>"Naturally. Then it is a promise."</p> + +<p>This was their first meeting. Subsequently it became her custom to ride +out alone after breakfast. She chose the morning, when Kathleen was busy +and could not accompany her, and she took her sketching book; but most +of her time was spent in watching Custance, and absorbing his art.</p> + +<p>When her teacher left Grey Town she suddenly realised that her parents +and friends in Melbourne needed her society, and, after an affectionate +parting from Kathleen and the Quirks, was carried out of Grey Town life +by the train that is termed an express.</p> + +<p>In Melbourne, an indulgent father and mother, who fondly believed that +she was perfect, readily consented to her improving her talent under the +teaching of the great artist, and she made rapid progress in her art. +But this was not the chief result of her lessons. Slowly she became +infatuated with the personality of Custance, while he, having begun to +play the game of love simply for the excitement it afforded him, finally +found himself involved in a grand passion. This he declared to her in +language suggested by his artistic temperament, and she responded in a +similar strain.</p> + +<p>Then came a pause, when he asked himself: "Is it fair that any woman +shall link her fate to mine?" He looked at the small syringe on the +mantelpiece and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> tiny little bottle beside it. He thought of the +marks on his arm, of the passing inspirations he thus found, and of the +subsequent fits of remorse.</p> + +<p>The following day, while they were working in the studio, Sylvia +painting and he criticising her work, he asked:</p> + +<p>"If I were a drunkard, would you still care for me?"</p> + +<p>She did not so much as turn while she answered:</p> + +<p>"Whatever you are, I have given myself to you."</p> + +<p>"There are worse things than drink," he said, as if communing with +himself. "There are drugs that enslave and debase a man; drugs that lead +him into the gardens of pleasure and raise him to the heights of +delight, so that he believes himself to be a superman, and," he almost +groaned, "lower him to the uttermost depths. Supposing——."</p> + +<p>She turned to face him smilingly. "I refuse to suppose," she answered. +"I have resigned myself to you, and I am ready to accept and condone +everything. I love you, and that is sufficient for me."</p> + +<p>What could a man such as he, who had never denied himself anything, do +under these circumstances? He threw his scruples to the winds and made +love in a feverish manner, regardless of the cost. Sylvia introduced him +to her parents, and he was made welcome by the hospitable and kindly old +people. At last he offered himself to Mr. Jackson as a husband for +Sylvia. But here he met with a check, for the old man had a strange +antipathy for artists; his capable, matter-of-fact business mind +mistrusted the emotional, and he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> firmly believed that artists were +governed by the emotions. He was willing that Custance should be a +friend; he refused him as Sylvia's husband.</p> + +<p>Custance was prepared to accept this as an adverse judgment, and to bow +to Mr. Jackson's decision; for he was a man of honour. But, when he +announced his intention to Sylvia, she refused to accept it.</p> + +<p>"By what right," she asked, "does my father take my happiness in his +hands? I can best judge the husband I need, and I refuse to give you up. +It is too late for him to interfere now."</p> + +<p>"You must remember——," he began.</p> + +<p>"I will remember nothing but that I love you, and that you have told me +you love me. That is the only thing that counts. You do love me, +Claude?" she answered.</p> + +<p>"Love you! I worship you," he answered, "but your father has done so +much for you——."</p> + +<p>"I grant that. There is no father like him. If he had stopped me in the +beginning I would have accepted his commands. Now it is too late. I +can't obey him now."</p> + +<p>"I feel myself bound by honour——," he said.</p> + +<p>"You are bound by honour to me. My father has no right to tell me who I +shall marry. I refuse to be treated as a child; I am a woman, capable of +choosing my own husband."</p> + +<p>Thus did she urge him on against his better judgment, and one day they +were missing. For better or worse Sylvia Jackson was married to Claude +Custance, brilliant, erratic, a slave to morphia. For his sake she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +forgot her duty to her parents, the love and kindness they had lavished +on her. The day that she left them a cloud came and rested over their +home. For her, marriage proved a cruel and bitter disillusionment, for +no woman can ever rival that deadly mistress, morphia.</p> + +<p>The night before Sylvia's elopement, Desmond O'Connor had dined with the +Jacksons. Mr. Jackson had hoped to displace Custance with the handsome +young fellow whom he loved, and Sylvia had made use of Desmond to +conceal her infatuation for the artist. They had sat together out on the +verandah, and she had given him a rose.</p> + +<p>"A rose for constancy," she said, as he held it in his hand and inhaled +the perfume. "You deserve it."</p> + +<p>"Shall my constancy be rewarded?" he asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"What a handsome boy you are!" she laughed. "I wonder will it be +rewarded?"</p> + +<p>"Why do you tease me?" he asked. "If you could read my heart——?"</p> + +<p>"I can read it in your eyes. I know every word they say. Come inside and +sing to me."</p> + +<p>In his fine tenor voice he sang, at her request, Tosti's "Good-bye." +That was his farewell to Sylvia Jackson.</p> + +<p>The following morning Mr. Jackson failed to appear at business. This was +an almost unprecedented event, and caused quite a flutter of excitement +in the office; but it was not until the afternoon that Desmond learned +the reason. He was summoned into the Chief's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> office to find Mr. +Jackson, grey-faced and worn, a broken man.</p> + +<p>"I have ill news, my boy," he said very kindly to Desmond. "Sylvia has +run away with Custance."</p> + +<p>Desmond made no reply. Suddenly the world had altered for him; he had +passed out of the light into an impenetrable blackness. He sat with his +head bent down, changed in a moment from a light-hearted boy to a +despairing man.</p> + +<p>"I want you to come home and fill the place that she had. Mrs. Jackson +and I love you, and we need a child." Mr. Jackson continued.</p> + +<p>"I can't do it," cried Desmond. "I should be thinking of her all the +time. I have lost all faith."</p> + +<p>And so the world believed; for Desmond O'Connor, while he eschewed the +coarser vices and worked relentlessly, renounced for a period the +religion that his father's life should have made dear to him, and went +on his way a professed disbeliever.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>THE VIRTUE OF GREY TOWN.</h3> + +<p>The City Fathers who governed the municipality of Grey Town were not +unlike the councillors in other towns and cities. They laid no claim to +a pre-eminence in wisdom, professing to be merely ordinary men of +business, of sound common sense, and strictly honest for the greater +part.</p> + +<p>Councillor Garnett was perhaps the single exception to this rule of +honesty. The other councillors worked from a sense of duty, possibly +urged by a worthy ambition. Councillor Garnett occasionally dipped his +hand in the municipal purse, and brought from it as many golden guineas +as he could clutch. Yet he had led the Council for many years, and was +still regarded by the Conservative element as a worthy leader. In all +probability he would have continued to rule the civic affairs of Grey +Town had not Denis Quirk come to the town to turn things upside down and +sweep away certain municipal cobwebs.</p> + +<p>The question as to the purchase of a block of land in the town for the +erection of Council stables and cart houses was made a test question by +both parties as to who should control the future destinies of Grey Town.</p> + +<p>It had already been decided to erect the necessary buildings. Councillor +Garnett had then moved that a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> certain vacant section in one of the +streets should be purchased, when Denis Quirk rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>Immediately there was a certain electrical excitement in the Council +Chambers, that was reflected in the alert faces of the councillors. They +sat attentively with expectant ears as he began to speak.</p> + +<p>"Sir," he said, "I am here to oppose anything that approaches municipal +corruption."</p> + +<p>"I object to that word," growled Garnett.</p> + +<p>"You object to the word and I object to the deed," Denis replied, +quietly. "We are not here to line our own pockets, or, if we are here +for that purpose, we are in the wrong place. Our purpose should be to +act as watch-dogs for the ratepayers, to guard their interests. What if +the dogs start to worry the sheep? I accuse Councillor Garnett in this +matter of abusing his position as a councillor. I accuse him of +disingenuousness that borders on fraud."</p> + +<p>"Oh, come, come," said an elderly councillor, who was constantly +scandalised by Denis Quirk's want of municipal decorum. "Fraud is an +unpleasant word."</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly," Denis continued. "But it amounts to that. Councillor +Garnett is directly interested in the land that he is urging the Council +to purchase at a false price."</p> + +<p>The words were spoken quietly, and with a certain deliberation that was +impressive.</p> + +<p>"That is a lie!" cried Councillor Garnett, now aroused to fury.</p> + +<p>"Order! Order!" cried the Mayor. "I ask Councillor Garnett to withdraw +that word."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p><p>"Let Councillor Quirk withdraw his accusation first," suggested another +councillor.</p> + +<p>"I intend to prove it," answered Denis. "Will Councillor Garnett tell me +who is George Haynes?"</p> + +<p>"How should I know?" replied Councillor Garnett, doggedly thrusting his +hands in his trousers pockets and tilting his chair backwards.</p> + +<p>"Who should know better than you? George Haynes is a dummy, a former +clerk in your office, who has been made to appear the owner of this land +to cover you in this transaction. I have the copy of a deed here that +directly proves my statement."</p> + +<p>"How did you obtain it?" asked Garnett, when someone plucked his sleeve +and thrust a paper in to his hands.</p> + +<p>"Turn the tables on him. Ask him why he left Goldenvale; has he been +divorced; and what about the funds of the Goldenvale Investment Society +which he was accused of embezzling?" he read; but, when he turned to see +the messenger, the latter had vanished.</p> + +<p>"Never mind how I obtained it. May I read it?" Denis asked the Mayor.</p> + +<p>"One minute first. Let us have the credentials of this reformer before +we listen to his accusation. I refuse to be judged by a dissolute +ruffian, a divorced man and one accused of embezzling the funds of an +investment society. Why did Councillor Quirk leave Goldenvale?" cried +Councillor Garnett, triumphantly.</p> + +<p>This accusation came as a thunderbolt to the Council, when those who +were friendly to Garnett were pondering how they should act in view of +Denis Quirk's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> charges; and those who stood opposed to Garnett were +rejoicing in his discomfort. To the former his counter charges came as a +relief; to the latter they brought doubt and consternation. Only one man +seemed perfectly composed and he was the person accused.</p> + +<p>"My past history does not concern the Council if I can prove my present +statement," he said very quietly.</p> + +<p>"It concerns the Council vitally. How can we believe a man with your +reputation?" asked Garnett.</p> + +<p>"The latter part of that charge is false."</p> + +<p>Again a paper was thrust into Garnett's hand. This time Denis Quirk +noted the action, and the face of Gerard, the messenger. He smiled +grimly.</p> + +<p>Garnett glanced at the paper and read the heading.</p> + +<p>"Quirk in Court. Accused of misappropriating the funds of the Investment +Society. Case part heard."</p> + +<p>"Does Councillor Quirk know this paper?" he asked. "The 'Goldenvale +Investigator?'"</p> + +<p>"I used to know it. It was a rival of my own paper, 'The Firebrand,' and +a most unscrupulous paper."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you remember this?"</p> + +<p>Garnett handed the paper across the table to Denis.</p> + +<p>Denis read the heading aloud to the Council, ending with the last lines: +"Case part heard."</p> + +<p>"Have you the next issue of this rag?" he asked. "If so, you will find +that the result of this case was a complete vindication. I was +triumphantly acquitted. A month later you will find an abject apology +from 'The Investigator.' This was a trumped-up affair, the work of my +enemies. To-morrow I shall publish the full details in 'The Mercury.'"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p><p>But the Council were determined that he should no longer be heard. When +he asked again:</p> + +<p>"May I read this document?" the Mayor replied:</p> + +<p>"I do not think it is in order."</p> + +<p>"I intend to read it," cried Denis.</p> + +<p>"I rule you out of order," answered the Mayor.</p> + +<p>Denis began to read slowly and deliberately, but the opposing +councillors prevented him with a babel of cries. The meeting finally +broke up in great disorder, after Denis had attempted to make himself +heard and had been escorted from the Council Chambers by the Town Clerk.</p> + +<p>The following day he began his battle with Grey Town, a fight in which +all fair-minded and right-thinking men conceded him a victory. He +published the full account of the proceedings in the Goldenvale Court, +ending in a triumphant acquittal, and the subsequent apology in "The +Investigator." He also published the document purporting to be signed by +George Haynes. It was an acknowledgment of the loan of a sum of money, +equivalent to that which Haynes had paid for the land under offer to the +Council, and a promise to repay the money at an exorbitant rate of +interest to Garnett. Very few impartial men doubted the real meaning of +the transaction.</p> + +<p>But Garnett knew Grey Town. It was not a particularly moral town, but +there were periods when it arose in virtuous indignation to punish the +evil-doer, and it generally selected as its victim the man who was the +least guilty. Denis Quirk was made the object of one of these outbursts +of public morality. He was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> man of dissolute morals, divorced under +peculiar circumstances. Denis Quirk must be booted out of Grey Town.</p> + +<p>The Quirks were at breakfast on the day that followed the scene in the +Council Chambers; only Denis was absent. Samuel Quirk was reading "The +Mercury" when his son's name caught his eye.</p> + +<p>"What is this about Denis?" he cried; but as he read he wished he had +not spoken, for he loved and respected his wife, notwithstanding his +professed scorn for her.</p> + +<p>"And what is it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Never you mind. Denis can fight for himself," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Just read it to me," she urged.</p> + +<p>"What for would a woman be wanting to hear such things?" he answered, +and thrust the paper in his pocket as he went out.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Quirk was determined to know. She had noted the frown on her +husband's face, and gathered from it that he was reading ill news.</p> + +<p>"Just slip out, Honey, and ask Joe for his copy. I must know the worst," +she said to Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Quirk does not wish you to know," Kathleen suggested.</p> + +<p>"Not knowing is worse than the very illest news. I will be in a fever +until I hear. Just run away and do what I ask of you."</p> + +<p>Kathleen recognised that Mrs. Quirk was determined, and wisely obeyed +without further hesitation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> But when she saw the nature of the charges +she paused before reading them aloud to the old lady.</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk, with his customary straightforwardness and honesty, had +printed the account of the scene in the Council Chambers word for word. +There it stood—his own accusation and the counter-charges urged against +him. He had attempted neither palliation nor excuse. But in the same +issue of "The Mercury" he had reproduced the account of the proceedings +in the Golden Vale Court, that had ended in his acquittal. More than +this, he had reprinted the apology of "The Investigator," as it had +appeared in that paper.</p> + +<p>But to Kathleen and to Mrs. Quirk the account of the divorce proceedings +was the most serious indictment against Denis, and here he offered +neither denial nor excuse. Both women held firmly to the belief that +marriage is sacred and irrevocable, and that no human power—nothing +short of death—can annul the bond uniting man and wife.</p> + +<p>Fearing to hurt her old friend, Kathleen attempted to avoid this part of +the accusation. But she was a bad dissembler, and Mrs. Quirk very keen.</p> + +<p>"There is something more, Honey. Let me hear all that those backbiters +found to say," she urged.</p> + +<p>When she had learned the full account of the charges, she burst out into +lamentation.</p> + +<p>"To think of it!" she cried. "Denis, the apple of my eye, to be in that +Divorce Court! It is, for sure, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> wickedest place ever invented by +man—and him there!"</p> + +<p>"But he did not appear," said Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"And them saying all those things against him! Where was he, then, if +not giving them back the lie? I don't believe it, not one word of it +all. He has his enemies, and they have invented this. Oh, why isn't +Father Healy here to advise me?"</p> + +<p>"Why not go and ask Denis?" suggested Kathleen. "He will tell you the +truth."</p> + +<p>"Do you believe he did what they say of him?"</p> + +<p>Kathleen looked out at the bright sky flecked with white clouds, at the +green lawns, and the masses of colour in the flower-beds. The sun was +shining brightly, scores of birds uniting in melody, music, brightness +and peace everywhere.</p> + +<p>"I would almost as soon believe that this world was not created by +Almighty God," she answered, without disrespect, for she had a profound +trust in Denis Quirk.</p> + +<p>"God bless you, Honey! Then why should I be doubting him? I will go and +speak to the boy. Sure, he never yet lied to me. If he has sinned, the +Lord forgive him. And what am I to judge him?"</p> + +<p>The motor was ordered at once, and in a short space of time it carried +Mrs. Quirk and Kathleen to "The Mercury" office. Tim O'Neill was in the +outer office, bright-faced and very busy, as was his custom. He welcomed +the ladies with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Is Denis in?" asked Mrs. Quirk.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p><p>"Mr. Quirk? Yes, he is in. Were you wanting to see him?" Tim replied.</p> + +<p>"Who else?" said Mrs. Quirk.</p> + +<p>"I will stay here and talk to Tim," suggested Kathleen. "That is, if Tim +can spare the time."</p> + +<p>Tim was a gallant youth, and he answered blushingly that it was an +honour and pleasure to speak to Miss O'Connor. Meanwhile Mrs. Quirk +entered her son's room.</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk was reckoning up the consequences of the last night's +proceedings, and considering the best method of carrying on the +campaign. As his mother entered he looked up with a frown, that changed +into a smile when he saw who his visitor was.</p> + +<p>He had constantly urged her to inspect the office, but she had always +refused to come.</p> + +<p>"Sure, you are busy; and what would you be doing with an old body like +me?" she was accustomed to say.</p> + +<p>"So you have come to visit me at last?" he cried.</p> + +<p>"I have come to talk to you, because I could not wait until you had come +home," she answered. "What is this in the paper?"</p> + +<p>He had hoped that she might not hear of his trouble, knowing how seldom +she interested herself in the contents of a paper.</p> + +<p>"Who has been telling you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Who but himself at first, and when he would not satisfy me I ordered +Kathleen to read it to me," she answered. "Oh, Denis, the shame of it! +That anyone should dare say that you were a divorced man!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p><p>"It's the truth, mother," he answered through his teeth.</p> + +<p>"You, the son I was always proud of, to be going into a place like that! +It is a shame that there should be such iniquitous places in a Christian +land!" she cried.</p> + +<p>Denis put his hand very gently on her shoulder in a caressing manner +that was out of keeping with his accustomed attitude.</p> + +<p>"See here, mother," he answered, "a man can only be judged in the light +of the Eternal Truth. In that light I am innocent."</p> + +<p>"Then why not prove them liars that have spoken these things against +you?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Someone had to suffer, and I could best bear it. I am a man, a strong, +hard piece of humanity, and well able to stand a few bad names. But +there are others, weak and frail, who would be destroyed by the scandal +of bitter tongues. Better the world should abuse me than them. Some day +I shall stand innocent in the eyes of the world as in the sight of God."</p> + +<p>"Then it is all lies?" she asked, looking into his brave, ugly face.</p> + +<p>"It is true that I was divorced, and true that I am innocent," he +answered.</p> + +<p>"I believe you," she cried, throwing her arms around his neck and +kissing him. "My heart is light again. Little I care what people may say +or think when I know it is false. Sure, there is only one that can truly +judge us, Almighty God, and to Him I will go and return thanks."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p><p>She went smilingly out of the office, and Kathleen recognised that +Denis Quirk had proved his innocence to his mother's satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Ebenezer Brown seized the opportunity for reviving "The Observer" with +Gerard as editor. In capability and brilliance he was not to be compared +with Cairns, but the public marked its disapprobation of Denis Quirk by +supporting "The Observer" and neglecting its rival. Day by day the +circulation and the advertisements of "The Mercury" dwindled until at +last Denis Quirk summoned a meeting of those interested in his paper.</p> + +<p>"If we intend to win out, I must go," he said. "The public has awoke to +a sense of virtue and selected me for punishment. It has blundered on +the wrong man, but that does not make the case any better. When I have +gone, "The Mercury" will return to its own and destroy 'The Observer'."</p> + +<p>"I say stay in Grey Town and fight it out," said Dr. Marsh. "I am +prepared to put my last penny into the paper."</p> + +<p>Samuel Quirk was there with Dr. Marsh, Cairns, and the staff of the +paper, right down to Tim O'Neill.</p> + +<p>"Would you be running away?" Samuel Quirk asked indignantly, "with me to +help you fight the blackguards? You, an Irishman, whose fathers have +battled for independence in the dark days as in the fine ones? No, Denis +you will remain here and trample 'The Observer' under your feet once +again."</p> + +<p>"I don't need any pay, sir," said Tim O'Neill. "I'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> work for nothing, +just for the love of you and the old 'Mercury'."</p> + +<p>"Good boy, Tim! You are gold from the hair of your head to the soles of +your feet. But I shall go to Melbourne and open out there. Once I am +out, 'The Mercury' will have a fair run, and Ebenezer Brown, Gerard, and +Garnett will be sorry they invested their money in a hopeless cause. You +shall buy me out, Dad."</p> + +<p>The day before Denis Quirk's departure he found Kathleen alone in the +dining room.</p> + +<p>"Miss O'Connor," he said, speaking less confidently than was his custom. +"I am not an idealist. As a general rule I class men and women as bad or +indifferent, but I have a great respect for you, and I want you to +believe in me."</p> + +<p>"I do," cried Kathleen eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Men have been tried and convicted on false evidence," he went on. "The +world judges us by results, but I want you to disregard the past and +take my word that I am innocent."</p> + +<p>"I have always believed it," she said.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he said, and was turning away when Kathleen said:</p> + +<p>"You are going to Melbourne, Mr. Quirk. I place Desmond in your hands. +Bring him back to the Faith."</p> + +<p>"I shall do my best, but no man can constrain another. Desmond must work +out his own salvation," he answered.</p> + +<p>When his business was completed, Denis Quirk <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>departed from Grey Town. +But Ebenezer Brown and his satellites discovered that his absence made +things even more uncomfortable for them than had been the case during +his presence in the town. "The Mercury" rose buoyantly to resume its old +power; and in a month's time it had crippled its rival beyond recovery. +Samuel Quirk took his son's place on the Council, and there asserted +himself so triumphantly that Councillor Garnett recognised that it was +time for him to retire. Grey Town awoke to sudden municipal vigour, and +the town put on a modern, up-to-date appearance, in keeping with a new +commercial activity. Those who had flourished under the old system +retired to their holes, impotently cursing the new regime. Their triumph +over Denis Quirk had proved a veritable disaster to Ebenezer Brown and +his companions in evil.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>FATHER HEALY'S MISSION.</h3> + +<p>It was a warm night, and Father Healy was entertaining his friends in +the garden of the Presbytery. They sat together on the green lawn that +faces the town and the distant ocean. In a quiet and secluded place, +just within earshot of their conversation, Molly Healy sat on the lawn, +her back supported by a big pine tree. Near her a kitten was playing +with Mollie's collie dog. Father Healy had returned from Goldenvale, and +his cronies had gathered together to greet him, and hear from his lips +the account of his travels. Dr. Marsh asked, abruptly, almost +impatiently:</p> + +<p>"Your mission was a failure, Father Healy?"</p> + +<p>"Not entirely a failure," answered the priest. "I have brought back no +evidence to prove Denis Quirk innocent, but I am convinced that he is."</p> + +<p>"You went away with a bias in his favour," suggested Clark.</p> + +<p>"I did, and I come home still more biassed. I saw the priest who wrote +to me, a good man, but to my mind a poor student of human nature. He +received me kindly, and made me welcome. In the evening we talked of +Denis Quirk. He told me what a great man Denis had been before the +divorce case. There never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> was such a scandal in Goldenvale. I asked him +what sort of a woman was Mrs. Quirk. 'A splendid lady,' said he, 'clever +and talented. She was under instruction for the Church at the time, but, +naturally, she did not go on after divorcing her husband.' 'And how do +you reconcile a good man, going to his duties regularly, doing the +things Denis was accused of?' said I, quoting the old Latin proverb, 'No +one becomes suddenly altogether base.' 'That was where the scandal was,' +he answered me. 'Did he leave Goldenvale in disgrace?' I asked him. 'No, +he stayed on, and went and talked the Bishop over. The Bishop wrote to +me; I have his letter, and you may see it,' said this good priest."</p> + +<p>"And what did the Bishop say?" asked Mr. Green, who had listened +attentively.</p> + +<p>"He just told Father Richardson that Denis had seen him, and that there +was no valid reason to prevent him from the Sacraments."</p> + +<p>"Did you meet Gerard there by any chance?" Dr. Marsh asked.</p> + +<p>"I did, and never were two men more surprised than when we ran into each +other's arms round a corner. Gerard began to explain why he was there. +You see, he had a maiden aunt in the town," said Father Healy, smiling +all over his face, "and I had a cousin, which was true, for I discovered +him soon after my arrival there. The next day Gerard called on me, and +began to tell me about Denis Quirk. He was grieved over it, the poor +man! It was as bad as if his great <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>grandmother had just died." At this +sally the company laughed.</p> + +<p>"I told him," continued Father Healy, "it did not surprise me. It is a +wicked world, and it would not astonish me to hear that you yourself +were not quite perfect, said I."</p> + +<p>"Not quite perfect," growled Dr. Marsh. "If ever there was a thief, +Gerard is the man."</p> + +<p>"How do you prove that, Doctor?" asked Clark.</p> + +<p>"From the company he keeps. To be hand in glove with Ebenezer Brown is +certain proof of a man's criminality."</p> + +<p>"Merely presumptive evidence," replied Clark.</p> + +<p>"Did you make further enquiries?" asked Mr. Green of Father Healy.</p> + +<p>"I saw Mrs. Quirk—that used to be—and Mrs. Clarence that is now."</p> + +<p>Dr. Marsh grunted, as was his way when anyone of whom he disapproved was +mentioned.</p> + +<p>"And what did you think of her?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"That divorce is a failure. If ever there was an unhappy woman, Mrs. +Clarence is that one. I sent up my card to her; presently she sent down +a message: 'Would Father Healy come up?' I went up three stories in a +lift to the prettiest little flat you can imagine. A nice, tidy maid +showed me into a charming little room, and there I found the lady. She +is an artist, and a clever one, they tell me; a pretty woman, and +agreeable; but unhappy, if I am any judge of happiness. I told her where +I had come from, and what do you think she asked me, 'Did I know Denis +Quirk?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> 'Know him,' said I, 'of course I do; a fine man, and honest.' +Then she began to praise him, until at last I asked her: 'Did you know +him?' The lady was lost in confusion, but at last she answered: 'We were +married.' 'And what are you now?' I asked her."</p> + +<p>"That was not like your customary caution," said Mr. Green.</p> + +<p>"It was a mistake, but I was hot with indignation at her asking for +Denis. She shut up at once like the blade of a knife. But before I left +her she said to me, 'Will you give Denis Quirk a message?' 'Certainly I +will,' I answered her. 'Tell him I shall never forget his nobility,' she +said. What do you make of that?"</p> + +<p>"It was not the message of a deeply-wronged woman," said Mr. Green.</p> + +<p>"Precisely my opinion, but I wasted no more words on her, merely, 'Good +day, Madam.' As I was leaving the flat I met a man at the door, short, +stout, with bloodshot eyes, and baggy eyelids. 'What are you doing +here?' said he. 'Paying a morning call,' I answered. Thereupon he began +to call me unpleasant names, but I brushed him on one side, and went +home to wash my hands. I pity that poor lady, that has leaped from the +frying pan into the fire."</p> + +<p>"And there your enquiries ended?" suggested Clark.</p> + +<p>"I paid my respects to his Lordship, a kindly old man, with plenty of +common sense. 'I know nothing of Denis Quirk,' said he, because, as I +understood, his lips were closed by the seal of Confession. 'But,' he +asked me, 'what do you think of him?' 'I believe he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> is innocent,' I +answered. 'Speaking as a man who has carefully reviewed the case, I +believe you are right,' said he. What do you think of my mission, Mr. +Green?"</p> + +<p>"With you, I consider it not altogether a failure," the clergyman +answered; then, as an afterthought, "If all Roman Catholics were like +you, we would all be Roman Catholics."</p> + +<p>"There are many better than I, and a few worse. You must make allowances +for the weaknesses of human nature," the priest answered. "Come inside +now and play bridge."</p> + +<p>"Did you see Desmond O'Connor on your way home?" asked Dr. Marsh.</p> + +<p>Molly Healy, from her secluded place, strained her ears to catch her +brother's answer.</p> + +<p>"Naturally I did," he said. "Desmond is a great man now, a partner in +the firm of Jackson and Company, and coining money, they tell me."</p> + +<p>With this he intended to content them, but Dr. Marsh asked, +inquisitively:</p> + +<p>"Did you bring him back to your Church?"</p> + +<p>"I did not try. There are seasons to speak and seasons to say nothing. +It was not the time to argue with him."</p> + +<p>"Why not the time? You could have put him on the broad of his back," +said Dr. Marsh.</p> + +<p>"To what purpose? I was not there to quarrel with him. The boy will come +round.... Let us get to bridge!"</p> + +<p>Molly Healy, in the quiet of the garden, turned her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> eyes towards the +dark, limitless ocean. She could not see it, but its droning was in her +ears. To it she often turned in her moments of depression, when she +walked in those lower depths of melancholy that are occasional with +natures which mount to the heights of happiness and merriment. It seemed +to her that the ocean was responsive to her moods, that it answered back +her mirth, and whispered sadly when she was depressed. Looking towards +it now, she whispered:</p> + +<p>"Desmond O'Connor will win through. Sure, I will start Bridget Malone +praying for him. They say she never failed to get what she asked for."</p> + +<p>Therewith she followed the men inside, to find them playing their game +in the silence of strict bridge.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>THROUGH THE GORGE.</h3> + +<p>Kathleen O'Connor had been spending the day with Mrs. Sheridan, and was +returning slowly, laden with the gossip of the countryside, her rein +hanging loosely on Douglas' neck.</p> + +<p>She had many things to trouble her young mind at that moment. The +thought of Desmond was always with her; she could not reconcile herself +to his professed want of faith. Though Father Healy told her to have no +fear, and Mrs. Quirk bade her trust in God, she carried a heavy heart +for her brother.</p> + +<p>Only the day previously yet another sorrow had been confided to her. She +had accompanied her dear old friend, her second mother as she called +her, to Dr. Marsh. After the examination the doctor had called her back +into his surgery.</p> + +<p>"I give her six months to live," he said; "but you must keep it to +yourself. Old Samuel Quirk has a heart that might stop at any moment. He +must not know."</p> + +<p>"I may write to Denis Quirk?" she asked, anxious to share the burden +with someone.</p> + +<p>"By all means. But tell him not to come back until I send for him," the +doctor answered.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p><p>She had accordingly written to Denis Quirk, confiding the ill news to +him. The prospect of separation from Mrs. Quirk was hard to bear, for +she was a mother, and "Layton," a home, to the girl.</p> + +<p>The road from Mrs. Sheridan's farm to the lower bridge now dips down +beside the river, and now rises high above, where it runs through the +Gorge. It was at a spot where the river banks are low that Kathleen +heard her name called from the river. Looking towards the spot whence +the voice came, she saw Gerard seated in a boat that he had moored to +the bank. He had been fishing, pipe in mouth, for with the failure of +the "Observer," he had returned to desultory journalism and idleness.</p> + +<p>Kathleen reined her horse in, and he scrambled out of the boat and came +towards her. He was wearing a low-necked shirt; his face and neck were +tanned by the sun, as were the arms, bare to the elbow. Without doubt he +was a handsome man, and the bold, devil-may-care expression on his face +did not make him the less attractive. Kathleen knew that many a girl in +the district, well-to-do and not bad looking, would have welcomed the +attentions of Gerard.</p> + +<p>But, ever since his return from Goldenvale, Kathleen had recognised that +the old feeling for him had died out of her heart. He had expected to +resume the old, intimate relations, but she had held him at arm's +length. Two things were accountable for this—a dread of the influence +he had once exerted over her, and resentment of the part he had played +in the downfall of Denis Quirk. Gerard had not accepted the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> girl's +change of attitude with philosophy, although he had given no sign that +it affected him. He smiled pleasantly as he stood beside her horse's +head, one hand stroking the satiny skin, the other on the bridle rein.</p> + +<p>"This is quite a pleasant chance," he said. "We never meet one another +now."</p> + +<p>Kathleen murmured something about being so very busy.</p> + +<p>"It is my loss," he answered. "But there is no reason why we should not +make the most of this chance meeting. There is my boat. Tie your horse +to a tree and allow me to scull you up the river."</p> + +<p>"I have no time," Kathleen replied. "I must hurry home to Mrs. Quirk."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," he answered; "Mrs. Quirk can wait for once. You can't refuse +me the last favour I shall ever ask of you."</p> + +<p>"I can and I will," Kathleen answered; then she added, with a laugh: +"You can find any number of girls only too willing to take my place."</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly, but I am a man of caprice. If I order turkey for dinner, I +will have turkey or nothing. To-day I intend that you shall do what I +ask. If you will do it gracefully, I shall accept it as a great favour; +if you refuse, I shall be compelled to insist."</p> + +<p>Kathleen became frightened. She cast a glance at his face, careless and +bold, staring up into her own with an ardent admiration, and a second +glance around her. The place was lonely and unfrequented; only +occasionally did a farmer's cart or gig drive along<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> the road. On the +further bank of the river a line of pine trees hid them from the distant +farm-houses. Under these circumstances it was wisest to temporise.</p> + +<p>"If I accept, how long will you keep me?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"That depends entirely on the amount of entertainment I find in your +society."</p> + +<p>"Then I will accept. Will you kindly tie my horse to that tree?"</p> + +<p>She dismounted quickly, refusing the help he offered her. Then she threw +the reins in to his hands. The nearest tree was some yards distant, and +she waited until Gerard had approached it. Then she suddenly made a run +towards the boat, and, unhitching the rope, stepped in, and pushed out +from the shore. Gerard, seeing what she had done, ran towards the river +with a loud curse.</p> + +<p>Kathleen could row, and she put the oars in the rowlocks, and sat down +to scull. At the same moment Gerard sprang from the bank into the +stream, and began swimming towards the boat. Kathleen strained at the +oars, and little by little the distance between them increased, although +Gerard was a strong swimmer.</p> + +<p>But there are sand-spits on the Grey, and on one of these the boat +stranded. With a loud shout, Gerard welcomed the fact, while he made +stronger exertions to gain the boat. Kathleen seized an oar, and stood +up, attempting to free the boat from the obstruction. The boat began to +yield to her exertions, but Gerard came nearer and nearer. Just as she +had set the boat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> free his hands were on the gunwale of the boat, but +she raised the oar and brought it down smartly across his knuckles. With +a fresh curse he let go, and a moment later the boat was drifting +further and further from him.</p> + +<p>It is a dangerous passage, even for a skilled oarsman, through the Gorge +of the Grey River. In times of flood no man who laid claims to sanity +would attempt the feat; but, even when the river is low and flows +quietly if swiftly, there are rocks and snags that obstruct the passage. +To strike one of these would mean a total wreck.</p> + +<p>On either side of the river the masses of grey rock ascend steep and +slippery from the surface of the water. The stream is deep to the very +edges of the cliff, offering but little foothold to one who would climb +from the water to firm land. Here and there the caves break the even +surface of the rocks, and in yet other places great masses jut out in +fantastic shapes above the water. It is always dark and cool in the +Gorge, for the sun never penetrates there excepting in stray beams; a +pleasant place of a hot summer's day, with an expert oarsman and +coxswain to make a safe passage, but full of peril to a young girl alone +in a skiff.</p> + +<p>Kathleen O'Connor was, however, so glad to be freed from Gerard, not so +much because she feared physical violence as on account of the uncanny +influence he had over her, that she faced the passage of the Gorge +almost with equanimity. She recognised the danger, for more than one +narrow escape from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> drowning was chronicled in connection with the +place, and she crouched in the bow of the boat with an oar in her hand, +watching anxiously for rock and snags. Now and then she used the blade +of her oar as a paddle to prevent the boat from turning broadside to the +current. In this manner she was carried safely through the Gorge.</p> + +<p>Kathleen O'Connor's passage down the Grey is recorded as the first +occasion on which a woman accomplished the feat alone. Others have done +it since then from bravado and a desire for notoriety. Kathleen was +compelled to be the pioneer among women by fear. The following day she +had a paragraph to herself in both papers, and Grey Town was led to +believe that she had made the passage merely from a love of adventure. +This story was never contradicted, but, like many other tales of +adventure, it is untrue.</p> + +<p>At last she found herself safe in the wider expanse of water below the +Gorge, an object of interest and admiration to the fishers and boating +men who frequent that part of the Grey. Of them Kathleen took little +notice. She scrambled back to the sculler's seat, and after a short pull +found herself beside the boat shed.</p> + +<p>Tomkins, who kept the boat shed, was smoking his pipe on the landing +stage when Kathleen drifted out from the Gorge. Shading his eyes with a +big, rough hand, he stood watching her in amazement.</p> + +<p>"It's Miss O'Connor," he muttered to a man beside him, "and she's come +through alone. She's the last woman I'd have expected to do such a +thing!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p><p>"You never can tell what a woman will do these times. We'll be taking a +back seat in the kitchen before long," answered the other.</p> + +<p>"But Miss O'Connor's not that sort," said Tomkins. "What I can't make +out is this: I let that boat to Gerard. What's become of him?"</p> + +<p>As Kathleen stepped from the boat, Tomkins greeted her with applause, +seasoned with advice.</p> + +<p>"You've done something, miss, that no other woman ever did before. But +never you try it again. Next time you and the boat may come drifting +down, the one after the other."</p> + +<p>"I have no intention of trying the Gorge again," answered Kathleen. +"Thank God, I am safe!"</p> + +<p>As she was about to leave the shed, to make her amazement more complete, +Gerard rode up on her horse and reined in. His clothes were damp and +clung to him, but he disregarded that. "You have won your wager, Miss +O'Connor!" he cried; "but you went with your life in your hands."</p> + +<p>Kathleen was too much astounded by his audacity to reply. He dismounted +and lifted her into the saddle holding her rein for one short moment, +while he said in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"You have nothing more to fear from me. You have taught me a lesson, +and, by Jove! you are a well-plucked one."</p> + +<p>She did not pause to answer him, but, giving Douglas a cut with the +whip, rode away at a smart canter to "Layton."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<h3>"THE FREELANCE."</h3> + +<p>Denis Quirk was a man of courage and energy. He had an almost heroic +disregard of public opinion; if those few whom he loved would give him +their faith, the rest of the world might praise or condemn him at will. +Had it not been that the future of "The Mercury" was imperilled by his +presence, and that Dr. Marsh was interested in the success of the paper, +he would have remained at Grey Town to fight on until the tide had +turned or want of funds compelled him to close down. As it was, he sold +his share to his father for no more than he had originally invested in +the paper, and went to Melbourne to start a weekly magazine, "The +Freelance."</p> + +<p>In this undertaking, he was able to ensure success by his own ability +and, perhaps to a still greater degree, by the assistance of Jackson and +O'Connor, who were at that time the leading advertising firm in +Melbourne.</p> + +<p>Prior to giving him support, Jackson stepped into Desmond O'Connor's +room to debate Denis Quirk's credentials with his junior.</p> + +<p>"See here, Desmond," he said, "you know more about Quirk than I. We were +together on "The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> Golden Eagle" at Fenton before he went to America, and +we have continued friends right down to to-day, but his ability is an +unknown quantity to me."</p> + +<p>Desmond O'Connor heard this remark with considerable interest.</p> + +<p>"Do you also know Gerard?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Never heard the name."</p> + +<p>"Then I have to thank Denis Quirk for your interest in me?"</p> + +<p>Jackson had forgotten Denis Quirk's letter, with its request to keep the +latter's name a secret from Desmond. He answered readily:</p> + +<p>"Partly Quirk; but largely yourself. Quirk sent me to you and I liked +you. That was my reason for helping you in the beginning; later on you +helped yourself."</p> + +<p>"I have done Quirk an injustice, and now I can help him. Well he +deserves it. Quirk is a born journalist. He understands the public as no +other man does, and knows what to say to them and how to say it. This +paper of his is a certain success."</p> + +<p>"Then we will support him. Put the 'Freelance's' name down for a regular +column of advertisement," said Jackson.</p> + +<p>"I will slip round and see Quirk," suggested Desmond.</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk was in his office, busy in putting his ideas into effect +with a piece of foolscap in front of him, and the telephone receiver +close at hand.</p> + +<p>"Jackson and O'Connor re advertisement," he read on his list.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p><p>"I may as well try them; probably they will say: 'Prove yourself, and +we will support you.'"</p> + +<p>He rang the bell, and had the receiver at his ear, when Desmond entered.</p> + +<p>"It is all right, Exchange," he cried. "I will ring up again. Hullo, +O'Connor! Glad to see you. I was just ringing the office up. Take a +seat."</p> + +<p>Desmond sat down.</p> + +<p>"Quirk," he said; "I owe you a good deal."</p> + +<p>"That old chatterbox, Jackson! Has he been bleating?" Denis asked.</p> + +<p>"Inadvertently he opened the bag, and out jumped the cat. You are a +little bit old-fashioned, Quirk. If every man hid his virtues as you do, +Jackson and O'Connor would be forced to close down. I have been +crediting Gerard with your balance in my gratitude ledger."</p> + +<p>"Gerard!" cried Denis. "What made you select him?"</p> + +<p>"He professed so much. If I had all Gerard promised me I would be a +multi-millionaire. But I am not ungrateful. Jackson and I can help you a +little; count on us!"</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Desmond. At present you are invaluable to me, as much because +of the weight you carry with the public as for the £ s. d. I don't think +you are making a mistake because I intend to succeed, and I haven't +drawn a blank yet."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you'll succeed, Quirk; that's a foregone conclusion.... Are you +looking for rooms?" Desmond asked.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p><p>"At present I am staying at the 'Exchange,' but there's no privacy +there. Do you know of a quiet, respectable place?"</p> + +<p>"I can offer you a share in my flat in Collins Street," said Desmond. "I +have the best man in Melbourne, miles ahead of any woman ever born; a +self-respecting fellow, who expects good wages and earns them. He keeps +the flat in A1 order, cooks well enough to content even you——."</p> + +<p>"Hang it! I am not a gourmand," Denis Quirk interjected.</p> + +<p>"I am not accusing you of gluttony, my friend! I know from experience +you like your work well done, even if it happens to be the preparation +of an omelette on a Friday. I suppose you still hold to your old +prejudice against meat on a Friday?" asked Denis with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly! Not from any objection to meat, but as a mark of loyalty +and obedience," Denis replied.</p> + +<p>"I avoid it myself; merely from a health point of view. I have thrown +the old traditions and superstitions to the winds. I am a free man," +said Desmond.</p> + +<p>"Do you wear a hat in the street?" Denis asked laughingly; "and a coat; +or have you descended to the habits of your ancestors and eschewed +clothes on a hot day?"</p> + +<p>"No, my good man, and for an excellent reason. I have no desire to run +counter to the law," replied Desmond.</p> + +<p>"Precisely my reason for abstinence on Friday; but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> my law is a moral +one, and my justice of the peace that stern fellow, conscience. Don't +talk to me of traditions and superstitions. You, free men, are more +bound by superstitions than we who profess to be servants to a kindly +mistress.... I will share your flat and your wonderful man; and give you +the benefit of my beauty and my intelligent conversation on one +condition. We will swear a truce of God, neither shall run atilt at the +other's convictions until he is invited to do so. Is it an +understanding?" said Denis.</p> + +<p>"Agreed! Go your own way and leave me in peace," said Desmond.</p> + +<p>Thus did it come about that these two men shared the same flat and lived +on a hearty brotherly footing, although their views were diametrically +opposed. Around them they gathered a Bohemian band of companions, of all +creeds and every condition of life. Lawyers, doctors, actors, +journalists, and politicians; if they were decent, straight-living men, +with something to give in thought for that which they received, the +Bachelors' flat in Collins Street, as it was termed, was open to them +all. Denis Quirk lived strenuously as was his way, making "The +Freelance" a power in the land. He set himself to found a school of +journalists who wrote for the love of truth and scorned the mean and +paltry things of life. As with "The Mercury," Denis Quirk made his new +organ a censor of all that is contemptible.</p> + +<p>Desmond O'Connor, for his part, lived the parti-coloured life of other +men, business and pleasure in equal portions. Occasionally he assisted +Quirk with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> a black and white sketch for "The Freelance." He still +retained his old power as an artist, and Denis Quirk turned to him in +preference to the regular staff when he desired a particularly striking +sketch.</p> + +<p>"Just sit down, Desmond, and illustrate this article. The initials, D. +O'C., are always appreciated," he would say.</p> + +<p>"So I have every reason to believe. I am a genius and I know it. But +anything, even undesired artistic fame, to oblige you," Desmond would +answer.</p> + +<p>He had a heartfelt admiration for Denis Quirk, whose fate it was to win +the love or hate of those who knew him. None who came in contact with +him failed to appreciate the strength of his personality, and he threw +himself resolutely on the side of truth. Those who lived on injustice +and untruth would willingly have destroyed him because he exposed them +relentlessly to public odium; the honest and straightforward placed him +on a pedestal as a just man. "Good old Quirk" was a synonym for strength +and uprightness of life in those days.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<h3>GREAT IS THE TRUTH.</h3> + +<p>"Bachelors' Flat," in Collins Street, was peculiarly silent. The +customary visitors paused in the hall downstairs and did not venture to +ascend to the third floor of the mansions. Merely a sympathetic message +to the caretaker, a few parting words of hope, or a shake of the head, +and they passed on into the busy world outside.</p> + +<p>In the flat itself men and women walked with quiet feet and spoke to one +another in whispers, saving in the darkened room where Desmond O'Connor +chattered unceasingly, and now shouted or laughed in the wildness of +delirium. A nurse was installed in his room, a quiet and gentle little +lady, never hurried yet never slow; always patient, with a coaxing +manner and a soft voice. When he was sensible Desmond called her the +Angel of Mercy; in his delirium he spoke to her always as Sylvia. Even +in his wildest ravings, when he muttered and shouted sentences he had +heard from the lips of others and never sullied his own lips with, he +was always respectful to her.</p> + +<p>Kathleen O'Connor and Molly Healy were with her as untrained auxiliaries +to take her place and implicitly follow her directions when sleep could +no longer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> be denied. To them she gave the highest praise in her power +when she remarked approvingly:</p> + +<p>"You should have been nurses, both of you."</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk had resigned his room to the nurses, and when he slept +stretched himself out on the couch in the dining-room. He was watching +anxiously for his friend's moment of softening when Desmond would need +and ask for a priest. By a special arrangement the Archbishop had +granted to Father Healy the permission to attend Desmond, if he desired +a confessor. Then, day or night, as soon as the telephone carried the +expected message, the parish priest of Grey Town was prepared to hasten +in a motor car to Melbourne.</p> + +<p>But the fever had gone on to the dread third week, where death crouches +beside the patient's sick bed, and Desmond had made no sign. The doctor +came and went frequently, having the brand of anxiety plainly printed on +his face; the nurse had curtailed her hours of sleep to the minimum of +possibility, and the message had not been sent.</p> + +<p>"Why will he not surrender?" sighed Kathleen O'Connor. "I have asked him +to see Father Healy, and he always answers, 'No.'"</p> + +<p>"The good God is just trying us," said Molly Healy. "He wishes to see +how far our faith will go. But I am hoping that mine will stretch a +little further yet; for it needs to be elastic in times like this."</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk came in from his work, a little older and more tired-looking +than he had been, but just as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> warm-hearted and humorous as when life +was moving like a well-oiled machine.</p> + +<p>"Any improvement?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Kathleen shook her head, while tears filled her eyes.</p> + +<p>"We are so weak and powerless," she said.</p> + +<p>"But brave of heart," he answered cheerfully. "Things are at their worst +just now, but there is always a glimmer of light in the East. Keep your +eyes that way and you will soon see the sun rising to send the shadows +and the black thoughts helter skelter back into the darkness.... May I +see him?"</p> + +<p>"I will ask nurse," said Kathleen. "She is the commander-in-chief."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you great-hearted women—angels of self-sacrifice," said Denis, +after she had left the room. "You make me feel such a mean and +contemptible worm."</p> + +<p>Molly laughed at this outburst.</p> + +<p>"Sure you are not so bad—for a man," she said. "The Lord gave you the +physical strength, and us poor women the moral virtues. You can't help +it that you were not made a woman. Just do your best to put up with +yourself."</p> + +<p>In a few minutes Kathleen returned.</p> + +<p>"Nurse says you may go in to him for five minutes. He is quiet and +sensible now," she said.</p> + +<p>Denis entered the sick room very quietly. It was darkened and cool; +about it there was the scent of fresh flowers brought daily from +Jackson's garden. The bed linen was scrupulously white, and the room +itself bare of furniture, but exceedingly tidy. Desmond O'Connor was +lying in a peaceful doze, low in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> the bed, in the prostration that had +followed a period of wild delirium. As Denis entered he opened his eyes +and smiled.</p> + +<p>"Is it you, Dad?" he asked. "I fancied you would come to me. I have been +a disgrace to you!"</p> + +<p>Denis did not answer, fearing to break the chain of thought that had +taken his friend back to his childish days.</p> + +<p>"A disgrace to you and to the O'Connors," Desmond continued. "Didn't you +tell me that in the dark days the O'Connors clung to the Faith; that +never a one of them ever fell away? Well, I have been the first; just +from pique, dad; pique and pride.... Why don't you speak to me?"</p> + +<p>Still did Denis refrain from answering him, and Desmond continued:</p> + +<p>"But I begin to see again. It was all darkness for a time ... after +Sylvia had left me hopeless.... Where is Sylvia?"</p> + +<p>He turned his head to search the room.</p> + +<p>The nurse, hearing the name by which he addressed her, entered the room, +and stood beside his bed.</p> + +<p>"Ah, there she is! Don't go away from me, Sylvia."</p> + +<p>"Only into the next room," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that will do.... Isn't she splendid, dad?... I intend to come +round, when I am well again, to make my peace with God, and live like an +O'Connor.... Why don't you send for a priest?" he asked, in an irritable +voice.</p> + +<p>"You shall have a priest!" cried Denis.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p><p>But Desmond relapsed into a half sleep, broken by a rambling delirium, +like to a fragmentary nightmare. The word had been spoken, and when +Denis Quirk had called the nurse and left her in charge, he hastened to +the nearest telephone exchange and sent the long-delayed message to +Father Healy. In half an hour's time the big motor car from the Grey +Town garage was starting on the long journey to Melbourne.</p> + +<p>Through the evening and night the good priest sat silently beside the +chauffeur, but his lips were moving constantly, his fingers passing the +rosary beads as he prayed for the boy he loved. The chauffeur, who knew +him well, had never found the priest so self-absorbed. As a general +rule, Father Healy made the longest journey short; to-night he could +only pray silently. For he had seen Desmond grow up from infancy to +manhood, and had prepared him for the Sacraments. His downfall had been +a calamity; his return to the Faith would mean a triumph over the powers +of evil. Thus did the car rush through the night, its bright headlights +picking out the road in front of it; blackness around; the horn now +sounding its deep note as they dashed past a township, while Father +Healy was praying for the sick man in Melbourne.</p> + +<p>It was three o'clock in the morning when the car entered the sleeping +city, where darkness and quiet held possession. Here and there a light +shone from a window, telling its tale of sickness; now and again they +passed a night wanderer or policeman; but <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>Melbourne lay in placid +sleep, reinvigorating itself for the busy day.</p> + +<p>In the flat Denis Quirk was sitting in an armchair anxiously expecting +the sound of the motor. His quick ears heard it as it came up Collins +Street, and he was at the door to admit Father Healy.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you are tired and hungry?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Neither," the priest replied. "But my friend here has had a long drive. +He would appreciate a cup of tea—eh, Jack?"</p> + +<p>"No thank you, Father. I will take the car to the garage, and get to +bed," the chauffeur answered. Therewith he started post haste for the +garage and bed.</p> + +<p>"How is Desmond?" Father Healy asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"At his very worst, the doctor tells me. If he comes through the next +few days there is hope; at present it might go either way," Desmond +answered.</p> + +<p>"Can I see him?"</p> + +<p>"I will ask the nurse," said Denis. "We do nothing without consulting +her. Sit down and eat while I find her. Ah! here is Miss O'Connor," he +added, as Kathleen entered the room.</p> + +<p>"Father, I am so pleased to see you," said Kathleen. "I have been +waiting so long for you, until at last I began to lose hope."</p> + +<p>"I have been as anxious as you," he answered. "Is the boy asleep?"</p> + +<p>"I will ask nurse," said Kathleen, and went quietly out of the room.</p> + +<p>Desmond had just awakened from a quiet sleep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> He was fully conscious, +more so than he had been for many days. When Kathleen entered the nurse +stole over and looked at him.</p> + +<p>"Awake?" she asked, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Very much so," he answered. "All the queer things have gone, leaving me +at peace."</p> + +<p>"Father Healy is here," she said.</p> + +<p>"Did I send for him? I have a faint idea I did ... a sort of half dream +that the dad came to me and told me to see the Father," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Will you see him?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Give me something to pull me together first. I am in a mortal dread," +he whispered.</p> + +<p>"Would you rather wait?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No; it has to be gone through. Just a mouthful of nourishment; then +send him in!"</p> + +<p>In the quiet of the sick room priest and penitent conferred together in +whispers; Desmond O'Connor pouring the story of his fall and the +subsequent history resulting from it into the good Father's kindly ears. +And when it was completed there was a great joy in the two hearts and a +peace in Desmond's that had not been there for many years.</p> + +<p>"You are tired, my son," said Father Healy kindly.</p> + +<p>"Tired, but glad, Father. I have come out of the ocean of darkness and +doubt into the old harbour of peace and certainty."</p> + +<p>A few minutes after Father Healy had left him he was again sleeping as +peacefully as a child. The nurse, looking into his thin, pale face, +where black lines encircled the eyes, found a gentle smile on it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, these Catholics!" she said to herself; "what a satisfaction their +religion is to them! I believe he will come through now."</p> + +<p>Yet, strangely enough, although she was a good little woman, she did not +realise that there must be something superhuman in a religion that can +give perfect peace to the soul and increased strength to the body.</p> + +<p>In this manner began Desmond O'Connor's progress towards recovery. +Slowly the fever began to abate, leaving him prostrate and feeble after +the severe struggle he had maintained for weeks. During the first days +of convalescence he was so weak that death seemed preferable. But inch +by inch he fought his way back to health; until he was allowed to sit in +an armchair. After that his recovery was more rapid.</p> + +<p>As he became stronger Desmond found himself a prey to the most dreadful +spiritual desolation. The Faith that he had again found and accepted as +a great gift, with an outburst of thanksgiving, seemed to be withdrawn +from him. For days and days doubts and misgivings troubled him so that +he walked as a blind man, gropingly. And with the doubts there came a +myriad of evil thoughts to torment him. He could not read nor pray; he +had to cling blindly to Acts of Faith and resignation.</p> + +<p>It was fortunate for him in those days that Father Healy had left him +under the care of an old Jesuit Father. Day after day the old priest +visited him, and while he was with him Desmond was at peace. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> no +sooner was the good Father out of the room than the blackness of +desolation closed around him.</p> + +<p>"Is this to go on for ever?" he asked the priest.</p> + +<p>"No, my son. You are weak in body and new to the Faith. You have +weakened yourself during the years of doubt. In a short time you will +find your feet again and walk confidently. Go frequently to the +Sacraments, and trust in God."</p> + +<p>Thus did it happen with Desmond. Slowly the doubts and difficulties left +him, so that he wondered that they had ever caused him uneasiness. But +daily in his Acts of Thanksgiving he praised his Divine Redeemer who had +lifted him from the valley of desolation to an absolute certainty of +Faith.</p> + +<p>This was the beginning of a new life to him. During his convalescence he +entered more deeply into his religion than he had ever done before. +Slowly its great beauty unfolded itself to him; he found it so wonderful +in its perfection, so satisfying that he marvelled at his previous +lukewarmness. It was just at this time that a visitor came to see him.</p> + +<p>Desmond was sitting up in an easy chair; the nurse had gone to another +patient while Father Healy and Molly were in Grey Town. Kathleen, having +made her brother comfortable, had slipped out for a short breath of air, +leaving Desmond in charge of Black, the incomparable man-servant. A ring +at the door bell, a vision of a beautiful face and a graceful figure +becomingly dressed, conquered Black. His orders were to admit no +visitors, but he was so fascinated by the apparition that he carried the +card in to Desmond,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> and a moment later Sylvia Custance was sitting +beside the sick man's chair.</p> + +<p>Desmond looked up as she entered to judge how the years had treated her. +Older and more mature, but otherwise unaltered, he decided as he took +her hand and shook it.</p> + +<p>"You poor man! How pale you are!" she cried. "I only returned home last +week to hear that you had been so desperately ill."</p> + +<p>"Home?" he asked, in a puzzled voice.</p> + +<p>"The only home I have ever known. I have been miserable since I left +it," she explained.</p> + +<p>"And Custance?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"He is impossible," she said. "I have done my utmost for him, but at +last there came a time when I could not go on. We have separated."</p> + +<p>"With his consent?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Custance cares for nothing now but that cursed drug. Oh, what a fool I +have been," she almost moaned.</p> + +<p>There came a painful silence, broken at last by her.</p> + +<p>"But now I intend to return to the old life and the old friends. I shall +forget the horror of what I have endured.... You will help me to +forget?"</p> + +<p>He was very weak and weary. As he watched her the old passion began to +return to him. But it so happened that he looked towards a picture given +him that very day by the old Jesuit Father. It was a simple painting of +the Sacred Heart, with no attempt at artistic beauty. That very day, +however, the old priest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> had spoken so eloquently of the mystery of love +portrayed by that poor picture that Desmond valued it better than if it +had been a treasure of art.</p> + +<p>"I have done with the old life," he said.</p> + +<p>"You fancy that now. But wait until you are strong and feel again the +joy of life," she said. "Then you will alter your mind."</p> + +<p>"Tell me about your trouble," he suggested.</p> + +<p>"No. Not that, please. It is bad enough to have lived it. It was pure +misery and hopelessness. I prefer to talk of anything but that."</p> + +<p>They were still talking when Kathleen returned. She concealed the dismay +and dread that she felt in finding Sylvia Custance with Desmond. She +feared the old influence that had so vitally helped to ruin her +brother's life and drive him from his Faith. At present he was weak in +body, and like an infant in religion. The slightest obstacle might turn +him again to his former state of doubt. At this critical stage Sylvia +Custance was a great danger. But it flashed into her mind that Desmond +must fight his own fight unaided. If he succumbed again it was not her +fault. She could only pray for him.</p> + +<p>That evening when she bade him good-night, he said to her:</p> + +<p>"I think I will go down to Grey Town to-morrow, Kath."</p> + +<p>"Are you strong enough?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to see Sylvia Custance again. The old life must die, Kath. +It seems rather hard, but it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> must be done. Make all arrangements like a +dear girl."</p> + +<p>The next morning as they travelled towards Grey Town she recognised that +he had not slept well, but she made him comfortable with rugs and +cushions, and watched him drop into a quiet sleep. Denis Quirk, who had +insisted on accompanying them, brought them refreshments at every +possible opportunity and watched over them with untiring zeal. When they +arrived at Grey Town the "Layton" motor was waiting to carry them to the +Quirks' home. Here they found Mrs. Quirk, very enfeebled, but smiling a +glad welcome, and old Samuel Quirk, to greet them warmly.</p> + +<p>"It is like home to me," cried Kathleen, as she kissed the kindly, +withered old face.</p> + +<p>"And home it is, honey, when you are here; but it is a lonely home +without yourself and Denis," said Mrs. Quirk.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<h3>THE BISHOP'S SOLUTION.</h3> + +<p>Denis Quirk, at Grey Town, threw away all thoughts of work, and laid +himself out to make the time pass pleasantly for Desmond and Kathleen +O'Connor. During his fortnight at "Layton" he was only in the town for +Mass on the two Sundays, and once when he paid a visit to Cairns at the +"Mercury" Office. That visit he curtailed to a brief fifteen minutes.</p> + +<p>When he entered the old office, to find everything as he had left +it—the old faces, the same order, even his own room arranged as it had +been in his day—he felt that he could not stay for any length of time. +This was home to him, and he an exile.</p> + +<p>"I had to see you," he said to Cairns, "but it breaks me up to visit the +old place."</p> + +<p>"It is waiting for you, Quirk, and we miss you every day. When are you +coming back?" the editor asked.</p> + +<p>"When I can thrust my innocence in the town's face—perhaps to-morrow, +possibly never," Denis answered.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! The scandal is dead and buried. We never realised what you +were until you had left us. We want your initiative, Quirk."</p> + +<p>"It's very good of you to say that. Lord, how I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> miss you Cairns—you +and the old paper! The 'Freelance' is all right, but it never can be the +'Mercury.' And Grey Town, too! I love it for its very shortcomings," +Denis replied.</p> + +<p>He interviewed the staff, and parted after a few friendly words with +each. The remainder of his time in Grey Town was spent at "Layton" and +in the country around the town. His friends were invited to meet him at +dinner—Father Healy, Mr. Green, Dr. Marsh, and a few others. Not that +he feared to face the town, but because he could not bear to enter it as +a mere visitor; to stand, as it were, on one side, as an onlooker and +not as a worker.</p> + +<p>"You have done wonders, they tell me," he remarked to his father, "but I +feel that there is more to be accomplished, and my fingers are itching +to be doing it."</p> + +<p>"I am just keeping your seat on the Council warm for you. Say the word, +and it is yours," remarked Samuel Quirk.</p> + +<p>"When the word comes to me, I will send it along to you. Meanwhile, keep +firing at them, Dad. Grey Town is yawning and rubbing its eyes. The town +is beginning to realise what it is to be awake. In time it will be awake +and moving briskly."</p> + +<p>"I'll keep on pinching them, until they must be moving just to be quit +of my fingers," Samuel Quirk replied complacently. "By the time you are +back with us this town will be a young city."</p> + +<p>The time passed pleasantly and swiftly at "Layton." Every day brought +some new pleasure or excitement<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> for the O'Connors, and Denis Quirk did +his utmost to make them forget the strain that they had just been +through. He proved that he could play as strenuously as he was +accustomed to work, and that he was still a young man in his mind.</p> + +<p>One morning Kathleen O'Connor attempted to thank him for his kindness. +They were in the garden, old Mrs. Quirk resting placidly in an +easy-chair under a large oak tree, Kathleen seated beside her, and the +two men sprawled out at full length on the lawn. Desmond lay far apart, +out of earshot, while Mrs. Quirk was fast asleep.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how to thank you——," Kathleen began.</p> + +<p>"There is no occasion to thank me. The gratitude is on my side, Miss +O'Connor. You have made my mother happy, as no one else could have done. +No payment or reward could represent what I owe you," he answered.</p> + +<p>"But I am a paid companion," she protested, half-laughingly.</p> + +<p>"Money cannot buy a friend, nor pay her for her friendship," he said. +"And please not to forget that I am enjoying myself as much as you are. +It seems to me that I have never been young until now. I went from +school into a hard world, and I have been battling with it ever since. +It is only now I realise that there is something else beyond work to +make the world pleasant. Until now it has been a case of fighting hard +and keeping myself straight by means of religion. Once I was tempted to +drift—that was after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> my trouble, over there in Golden Vale—but I was +fortunate enough to find an old friend, a Father, who put things before +me in their proper light."</p> + +<p>It was the first time he had spoken to her of the dark days in +Goldenvale. She had often wondered to herself as to how he had accepted +what must have been a terrible experience. Now that he had confided in +her, she wished to hear more.</p> + +<p>"A priest?" she asked him.</p> + +<p>"The Bishop. I wish you knew him."</p> + +<p>"I do," she answered. "We have a Bishop like that."</p> + +<p>"Then I must know him. Will you take me to him and introduce me?"</p> + +<p>"It is a long journey from Grey Town to Millerton," she answered +laughingly.</p> + +<p>"Nothing to a motor on a fine day and good roads. We will start early in +the morning, and be there for lunch, see your Bishop, and return here +for dinner. Desmond shall come—but what about the Mother?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Quirk had awakened, and lay very quietly, with closed eyes, +listening to their conversation. She knew the Bishop well, for he came +to visit her whenever he chanced to be in Grey Town. His very name +brought a smile to her face, but she refused to place his Lordship +before his reverence the parish priest.</p> + +<p>"Never mind me," she said. "What is one day to me? But it may mean a +good deal to Denis—and still more to Desmond."</p> + +<p>They turned in surprise to look towards the spot where Desmond O'Connor +lay, apparently asleep.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p><p>"To Desmond?" Kathleen asked, in a puzzled voice.</p> + +<p>"Sure, you don't know the boy as I do. He comes to me, and we talk +together, Desmond and I. The seed is working in the boy's soul—I am +thinking he will be a priest."</p> + +<p>"A priest!" cried Kathleen so clearly that Desmond rolled over lazily +and faced them.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" he asked. "You three look as if you were conspiring +together. No secrets are allowed in this establishment—excepting Mrs. +Quirk's and my own. Now, what is it, Kath.?"</p> + +<p>"We are going to see the Bishop to-morrow," said Denis. "I intend to put +his Lordship to a severe test. He shall be placed alongside my Bishop, +and judged in that comparison."</p> + +<p>"Six to four on his Lordship," said Desmond, still lazily.</p> + +<p>"Will you come?" Kathleen asked.</p> + +<p>"Of course I will. I have a spiritual conundrum of my own to be +answered, and no one can find the solution but he. Book a seat for me in +the car."</p> + +<p>"May we take Molly Healy?" Kathleen asked.</p> + +<p>"Who better? Molly Healy would make the longest road short and the +roughest one smooth. If we puncture or blow out, she will cause us to +forget the trials that pursue the tyres of a motor car."</p> + +<p>The following day, at nine o'clock, the big "Layton" car, resplendent in +a recent coat of paint, well shod, and perfectly equipped, started from +the house on the long journey to Millerton. Denis Quirk was at the +wheel, the chauffeur beside him. In the tonneau<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> Molly Healy and Desmond +O'Connor kept up a crossfire of good-humoured raillery, while Kathleen +sat between them, smiling at their jests. It was a bright, sunny day, +with a gentle breeze blowing from the south; the roads were smooth, and +the motor throbbed along throwing the miles behind her, and the dust in +the faces of those whom they passed on their way.</p> + +<p>"A brief epitome of this Commonwealth," said Denis Quirk, with a wave of +his hand as they were running through a vast, untenanted domain, +protected on either side by rows of dark green pines. "Neglected +opportunities! Land that should be supporting one hundred families +wasted on one man."</p> + +<p>Again they were hurrying between cultivated farms and farm houses, +widely scattered, but sufficiently near to one another to represent +civilisation. Double-fronted wooden houses were dotted here and there, +single-storied, each with its wide verandah, a small garden, and +possibly a row of pine trees to guard them from the wind. Behind them +each had its row of wooden outbuildings, large haystacks, and sleek +cattle feeding on green meadow-land.</p> + +<p>"The proof of what we can do—given the one necessary thing, man. Lord! +how the Japs must gnash their teeth when they think of the prize out +here in the lone Pacific! When I am a politician——."</p> + +<p>"Why not now?" Desmond asked. "Go forth and preach your new crusade. You +can't begin too soon."</p> + +<p>"I object to his preaching it in a car. Motors were never made for +moralising. There's a feeling, in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>riding in a car, that makes a person +lazy and contented," cried Molly Healy.</p> + +<p>"Until something goes wrong with the car," suggested Desmond. +"Then——."</p> + +<p>"I have heard them in difficulties, and my ears are still tingling and +my conscience burning me for the language they used," said Molly Healy.</p> + +<p>"It's no use carrying other men's sins on your conscience. Haven't you +sufficient of your own?" asked Desmond.</p> + +<p>"That is between me and my confessor, Desmond. But if I don't carry +these men's crimes no one will trouble about them, for they don't seem +to think it a sin to swear at a motor, although they call the thing +'she.'"</p> + +<p>"That's why they abuse her—woman was the original cause of sin, and +still is, nine cases out of ten."</p> + +<p>"Shame on you! The world would have little virtue to be boasting of were +it not for us poor women."</p> + +<p>"And less of sin," Desmond replied, cynically.</p> + +<p>"Peace, children!" said Kathleen; "you spoil the scenery."</p> + +<p>The Bishop was at home—a handsome man, tall and erect, with a stern +face, yet one that was singularly sweet.</p> + +<p>"Well, my child," he asked Kathleen, "what can I do for you?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Quirk wished to know you, my Lord," Kathleen answered, with a +smile. "I brought him from Grey Town to introduce him to you."</p> + +<p>"It is very kind of Mr. Quirk to come all this way<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> to see me. Perhaps +you will lunch with me, now that you have come so far."</p> + +<p>"Oh! no, my Lord——," cried Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes, my child. You have something to say to me?" he asked Desmond.</p> + +<p>"It is private, my Lord—but it can wait," Desmond answered.</p> + +<p>"No; it must not wait. Come with me, and talk until luncheon is +prepared. I will send Father Geary to entertain your friends."</p> + +<p>In his study, a small room, where large books on Theology were ranged on +shelves round the walls, where a large silver crucifix stood on the +table, with the Bishop's breviary and writing materials beside it, he +bade Desmond sit down. Then he began to interrogate him shrewdly, but +kindly.</p> + +<p>"You wish to be a priest?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Desmond eyed the Bishop in profound surprise, and his Lordship +continued:</p> + +<p>"How do I guess? Eh? It is not great wisdom nor the black art that has +told me your secret. A friend wrote to me——."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Quirk!" cried Desmond.</p> + +<p>The Bishop smiled, and his usually stern face relaxed, so that the lines +and wrinkles of care smoothed themselves out.</p> + +<p>"A friend," he answered, "who was interested in you, and anxious for +advice."</p> + +<p>"My Lord, I am quite uncertain. I can see which is the better, and which +the more difficult."</p> + +<p>"Make a retreat, my child; then come to me again."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p><p>"Tell me it is impossible, my Lord!" cried Desmond.</p> + +<p>"Nothing is impossible. I was myself a man of the world like you, and, +when I found myself confronted with a vocation, I was for running away, +like you. But the grace of God constrained me by force."</p> + +<p>"I can save my soul in the world," said Desmond.</p> + +<p>"You may; probably you will. But there are other souls to save besides +your own. Make a retreat, my child——."</p> + +<p>"But I know what the result will be. There can be only the one answer."</p> + +<p>"Then a retreat is not needed, but it will do you good. The Bishop +commands you to make a retreat—at once!"</p> + +<p>After luncheon, a plain meal, seasoned with good stories and laughter, +they bade his Lordship a respectful good-bye. He stood at the door +watching them as the car slipped down the avenue. On his face was the +smile of one who has scored a triumph. Kathleen turned to Denis, and +asked:</p> + +<p>"What do you think of my Bishop?"</p> + +<p>"Equal in every respect to my own, and that represents the very summit +of virtue. But Desmond can tell you more of his Lordship than I. I met +him as a mere man; Desmond was privileged to a more intimate knowledge."</p> + +<p>Desmond smiled as he answered:</p> + +<p>"A wise counsellor and a kind Father. He administers unpleasant +medicine, flavoured with human kindness."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p><p>"And will you be taking the Bishop's black draught?" asked Molly Healy.</p> + +<p>"I have not decided whether I shall swallow it or throw it away," he +answered evasively.</p> + +<p>But Molly Healy realised that Desmond O'Connor had decided. To her, this +represented the destruction of an ideal she had never hoped to realise; +but, as she wiped a few tears from her eyes that evening she remarked to +herself:</p> + +<p>"Life is made up of not getting what you want, Molly Healy. It is better +Desmond should become a priest than die a scallywag—and it will keep +him out of the way of that Sylvia Custance. God knows what is best for +every one of us."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<h3>A LINK BROKEN.</h3> + +<p>Denis Quirk was back in Melbourne, in the "Bachelors' Flat," and working +relentlessly at the "Freelance." That intrepid little weekly had +shouldered its way into a prominent position in the literary world. It +stood for independence of thought, avoiding the humdrum of the beaten +track, offering its own ideas to the public, careless of passing crazes +and passions.</p> + +<p>It may be said of Denis Quirk in those days that his only pleasure was +in his work. He was lonely for Desmond O'Connor, now a student at Manly. +The flat was still frequented by the representatives of motley and +variegated talent, as in the old days. Jests were made, good stories +told, and songs sung by well-trained voices; but these were mere +acquaintances. Denis longed for the intimate companionship of the former +days.</p> + +<p>Jackson had invited him to his home in Brighton, but there he found +Sylvia Custance. She weaved her web to enslave Denis, interesting +herself in his career, asking him fairly intelligent questions, and +doing her utmost to persuade him that he was the most important person +in the world to her. Denis watched her as a scientist observes a +remarkable organism. Once,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> after a prolonged silence on his part, she +asked—</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking about, if I may ask?"</p> + +<p>"I was thinking about you," he replied.</p> + +<p>She eyed him for one moment, as if uncertain how she should regard his +answer. "And what is your opinion about me?" she asked, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"One that I cannot properly express in every-day language. You are the +most versatile woman I have been privileged to know, and in some +respects one of the very cleverest."</p> + +<p>"That is great praise from you," she answered.</p> + +<p>"It is neither praise nor flattery; it is merely the truth. You are so +clever that I cannot understand you."</p> + +<p>Sylvia Custance imagined that she had at last won Denis Quirk's +admiration. Had she listened to him coldly dissecting her for the +benefit of one of her chosen bodyguard, she would have suffered a bitter +disillusionment. Denis was walking home with this admirer, a mere boy, +to whose unopened eyes Sylvia Custance was the ideal of women.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see such another woman as Mrs. Custance?" the young man +asked, in his youthful enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"No, thank God, I never did," Denis answered bluntly.</p> + +<p>This was a sudden and unexpected check to the boy's eloquence. He +regarded Denis frowningly.</p> + +<p>"If you intend——," he began.</p> + +<p>"You asked my opinion, and I have answered you. There is no need for +anger. I have a very high <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>regard for good women. Mrs. Custance is not a +woman, merely a psychological problem to me. She cares for only one +person—herself, and that self she regards as a celestial body around +which all other lesser bodies should revolve. To attain this necessary +consummation she adopts a chameleon character, altering herself to suit +all who approach her. To you she is sweet, and inclined to gush; to me, +a woman whose interests are in the stern affairs of life; to another an +artist—something different to all men. She is so versatile that she has +no fixed character. She is neither good nor bad, frivolous nor earnest; +she assumes whatever she considers most suitable to the present moment. +But I annoy you?"</p> + +<p>"No, you don't. Not one bit. Mrs. Custance's character can bear your +satire. She is the sweetest and most kindly woman in the world."</p> + +<p>"To you she probably is. That sweetness is the music to which you are +expected to dance. I accuse her of no evil intention. She is far too +prudent to ever repeat her one mistake of falling in love with anyone +but herself. You may fall in love with her; she expects you to do that. +But you need expect no act of imprudence from her. She will lead you to +the very gates of love and close them gently in your face."</p> + +<p>The boy went away furiously angry with Denis, but in the months to come +he recognised that he had heard Sylvia Custance accurately analysed +during that unpleasant half-hour's walk with Denis Quirk.</p> + +<p>Denis watched the boy as he strode away towards his home, his figure +stiffly borne, the picture of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>indignant protest. For his own part, +Denis desired no further acquaintance with Sylvia Custance. He despised +her so much that the very thought of her was repulsive to his nature. +After that one visit he preferred to cultivate old Jackson in his office +in the city.</p> + +<p>Occasionally he made a flying visit to Grey Town to enjoy the +restfulness of "Layton," but he did not stay long even there. After a +week or ten days he would suddenly pack his Gladstone bag and return in +haste to Melbourne. His answer to his mother was always the same, when +she pleaded with him to stay a few days longer:</p> + +<p>"I must get back to work. There is nothing else worth living for."</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk was busy in his office, writing, revising, correcting +proofs, reading a celebrated work for review, criticising illustrations, +doing many things and several men's work at the one time. He had a +sub-editor, a very capable journalist, but he had the feeling, like +other great men, that no one could do his work but he, and in this he +was partly right. The telephone rang while he was thus engaged, and he +sprang up and seized the receiver. Grey Town was speaking.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Grey Town speaking. It is Kathleen O'Connor. Can you hear me?"</p> + +<p>"Distinctly," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Quirk is seriously ill. She wants you."</p> + +<p>"I will be with you in seven hours. Will she last till then?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p><p>"Dr. Marsh thinks so; but please waste no time. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>He rang his bell, and the office messenger answered it with promptitude. +He had learned the lesson of haste when the master's bell rang.</p> + +<p>"Send Mr. Gillon to me, and order a motor to take me to Grey Town at +once. Ring up my flat, and ask my man to pack my valise," cried Denis. +"Tell the motor to call for it," he added.</p> + +<p>To the sub-editor he confided the work that still remained to be done.</p> + +<p>"I will take this with me," he said, picking up an important article, +"and read it on the journey. I will send it back in the motor."</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour later he was being carried at full speed in a +twenty-horse power Fiat car towards Grey Town.</p> + +<p>"If you delay one moment; if you blow out, or even puncture, I will +never employ you again," he remarked to the chauffeur.</p> + +<p>"It's all luck," the driver answered, indignantly.</p> + +<p>"I prefer lucky men," Denis replied. "Now drive like the very deuce."</p> + +<p>Nursing his outraged dignity, the chauffeur sent the car at its topmost +speed on the long road to Grey Town. This was his lucky trip; stray +nails there were in plenty, also dangerous places, but the Fiat raced +through in six hours. Denis sat rigidly perusing and correcting the +article, determined not to think of grey sorrow at the other end. Once +he groaned to himself.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p><p>"The last good thing in life, and I am to close it. But, there is +work—and the Church, thank God!"</p> + +<p>Then he made a further correction, folded the article, and placed it in +an envelope. This he confided to the chauffeur.</p> + +<p>"I like you," he remarked; "you can be as reckless as I when it is +necessary. I shall want a driver soon. Would you take the post?"</p> + +<p>"I prefer to be where I am," the man answered. "A driver can't be lucky +always."</p> + +<p>"He only needs to be lucky on occasions like this, when a mother is +waiting to say 'Good-bye' to a son."</p> + +<p>In six hours' time the car raced up the avenue at "Layton," to find +Samuel Quirk pacing the verandah while he awaited his son. Denis could +see the hand of bitter grief in the old man's bent figure, in the deep +lines on his face, and in the sunken eyes. After nearly fifty years' +companionship the prospect of losing his faithful wife struck Samuel +Quirk a titanic blow.</p> + +<p>Denis had never been outwardly demonstrative towards his father. Samuel +Quirk had not invited any sign of affection, and his son had not offered +it. But they loved and respected one another, for Samuel Quirk was the +type of man that Denis could best admire. He recognised honesty and +purity of intention in the old man; he knew that Samuel Quirk would +never intentionally injure another. These virtues appealed to him like +rich jewels hidden within a rough casket. To-day his heart went right +out to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> pathetic figure of hopeless misery portrayed by his father.</p> + +<p>He sprang from the car and took his father's hand tenderly.</p> + +<p>"It's the will of God," he said.</p> + +<p>"Did I say it was not?" asked Samuel Quirk. "I knew it must come +soon—but that doesn't make it one bit easier!"</p> + +<p>"How is she?" Denis asked.</p> + +<p>"Slipping away—and calling out for you."</p> + +<p>Denis waited to hear no more. He ran up the stairs to his mother's room. +Here he found Father Healy, Molly, Kathleen, and the nurse who had been +with Desmond O'Connor. At his coming they left the room, whispering each +one a short welcome as they passed him.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Quirk turned her head, and her thin, white face broke into a sweet +smile.</p> + +<p>"Come to me, Denis. God is good to send you. Sure, I am blessed above +all women. Himself is with me, the Divine Redeemer, and His Blessed +Mother, and the angels. Father Healy has been praying over me, and now +you have come to say good-bye. Sit beside me, and take my hand. Don't be +crying. I am just passing to God. Don't forget to say a prayer for me."</p> + +<p>She paused in distress, while Denis took her hand, and sat on a chair, +the tears rolling down his cheek. After a few seconds she spoke again:</p> + +<p>"Don't be fretting because the world is hard, boy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> All will come right, +and there's a good wife waiting you—one that will be true to you."</p> + +<p>"Don't be worrying yourself about me. I shall always land on my feet," +he answered. Then, after a pause, he added: "You have been perfect as a +mother and as a woman. There is nothing to regret on that score."</p> + +<p>"Many things undone, and many that might have been done better. But God +is good and merciful, boy. He doesn't expect too much."</p> + +<p>Thus they spoke together for ten minutes. Then Denis saw that she was +exhausted. He rose to call the nurse, but she held his hand for one +minute.</p> + +<p>"Promise me that you will marry Kathleen," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"I am already married," he answered.</p> + +<p>"You will be set free—I am sure of it. Promise me, Denis."</p> + +<p>"I promise to do that if it is ever possible."</p> + +<p>"God bless you and keep you. May the Sacred Heart prevent you from sin, +and Mary, the Mother of God, pray for you," she said, in a low, broken +voice.</p> + +<p>A few hours later the end came to her peacefully, and the soul of +"Granny" Quirk passed the narrow gate that leads from things seen to +those that are apprehended by faith. With a smile on her face she passed +the portal, confident in the mercy of Almighty God.</p> + +<p>After the funeral the question of Kathleen O'Connor's future came up for +discussion. After various solutions had been suggested by Father Healy, +Dr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> Marsh, and Denis, old Samuel Quirk calmly settled the matter.</p> + +<p>"Kathleen will stay here, and keep the house for me," he said. "She will +be my daughter. What would I be doing all alone in this big house?"</p> + +<p>The few days that had elapsed since Mrs. Quirk's death had changed him +into a decrepit old man. He sat through the greater part of the day in +an easy-chair on the verandah, taking no interest in anything; just +gazing vacantly in front of him for hours at a time. Mental and bodily +strength seemed to have deserted him. From vigour he had passed suddenly +into senility.</p> + +<p>"Are you willing to stay with him?" Dr. Marsh asked Kathleen. "It means +acting as a nurse to an impatient old man."</p> + +<p>"I promised Mrs. Quirk that I would remain at "Layton" while he needed +me," she answered.</p> + +<p>"The burden may be a heavy one," said Father Healy.</p> + +<p>"I can bear it," she answered cheerfully.</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk waited until the other had gone. Then he went to Kathleen to +find her working among the flowers, filling the vases and placing them +in the positions where Mrs. Quirk had liked to see them. He sat watching +her silently, as he had been accustomed to do in the days of their first +acquaintance. Presently she turned towards him.</p> + +<p>"You remind me of the old Denis Quirk to-day—the one whom I resented," +she said.</p> + +<p>"I was summing you up in those days," he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> answered; "just wondering +whether you were genuine."</p> + +<p>"That was what I objected to," she answered. "I have never been +subjected to examination—I have not so much as examined myself too +critically—and the feeling is creepy."</p> + +<p>"You have been tried and acquitted," he laughed. "You leave the court +without a stain upon your character. Indeed, you have been promoted to +stand upon a pedestal, and receive the admiration of your fellows."</p> + +<p>"No, no! Not that, if you please," she cried. "Allow me to remain just a +woman. It is my best plea for leniency. I detest the idea of a pedestal. +Supposing I were found to have a flaw—I have a good many, I assure +you—everyone would see it. Let me hide myself in the crowd."</p> + +<p>"Only one person is permitted to admire you on the pedestal; the one who +has placed you there. In his eyes there is no flaw. But," he added, +hastily, "I may, at least, thank you for your kindness to my parents. +You are a good woman, and you need no higher praise. Take care of the +old man, and—good-bye."</p> + +<p>He took her hand and crushed it in his own. Then he turned abruptly on +his heel and left her. That night she fancied she could hear him pacing +the avenue restlessly, and in that fact she found security. The +following morning he was gone.</p> + +<p>"Where is Denis?" old Samuel Quirk asked her, in his half-sleepy way.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p><p>"He has returned to his work. You should be a proud man, Mr. Quirk, for +I believe that Mrs. Quirk is a saint, and I am sure that Denis is a +hero."</p> + +<p>"He should be here in Grey Town," the old man grumbled.</p> + +<p>"He is in the best place—out there in Melbourne. He will return to Grey +Town when the time is ripe for him."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<h3>A SICK CALL.</h3> + +<p>If there is one suburb in Melbourne where a man might be excused +depression and discontent it is that undesirable and dusty part called +Tottenham. On a hot night in the summer time Tottenham gasps in the +streets. In shirt sleeves and thin blouses, not infrequently in a still +scantier attire, men, women, and children sit on doorsteps and +pavements, or collect in the small parks and open spaces, seeking fresh +air. The language on such occasions is apt to be in keeping with the +weather, for the heat excites men's tempers, and leads to unpleasant +remarks and retorts that are still less courteous, until a brawl +frequently terminates the proceedings. The neighbouring hospitals +anticipate scalp wounds and bruises after a hot spell in Tottenham.</p> + +<p>It was on such a night that Father Desmond O'Connor, recently ordained, +and appointed curate to Father Quinlan, the parish priest of St. +Carthage's Church, went quietly and swiftly along Carrick Street in +answer to a sick call. He walked absorbed in thought, and heedless of +the groups of people whom he passed.</p> + +<p>Desmond O'Connor had fought a severe campaign, and had triumphed. In +Tottenham he lived a quiet and uneventful life, content to do his duty +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>conscientiously, and pass his leisure hours with his brother-priests +and in the society of his books.</p> + +<p>Father Desmond O'Connor was not perfect; he was a good, honest, +hard-working priest, one of that splendid army who are fighting the +Church's battles against human weakness in Australia. His brothers among +the clergy liked and respected him none the less because he was a +cheerful companion, not above an occasional joke.</p> + +<p>Father Desmond O'Connor was, in fact, meditating a practical joke as he +hurried on his sick call this hot summer's night. His eyes were +twinkling, and his lips occasionally relaxed into a smile as he +considered the details of this piece of drollery. Once he remarked to +himself, half-audibly:</p> + +<p>"I must confer with Father Gleeson. He would suggest the necessary +details."</p> + +<p>Thus did he go, smiling and occasionally laughing to himself as some +particularly amusing aspect of that which he was considering struck him. +So pleasant was his face that a man whom he met paused to ask the +direction to a certain street that he well knew. When Father O'Connor +had answered his question, the man asked him:</p> + +<p>"Are you a Roman Catholic priest?"</p> + +<p>"I am," Desmond answered.</p> + +<p>"You'll excuse me stopping you, sir, but you looked so happy and +pleasant that I thought I would like to speak to you. You remind me of a +young fellow I once met some years ago—Desmond O'Connor."</p> + +<p>Father O'Connor laughed aloud at the remark.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p><p>"Supposing I were to tell you I was he, would you believe me?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>The stranger shook his head emphatically.</p> + +<p>"No, sir, I would not believe it, even from you. I had an argument with +young O'Connor, half-fun and half-earnest. He was an Agnostic, while I +profess to be a Christian of no denomination—just a Christian. You are +not he."</p> + +<p>"I am Desmond O'Connor, and your name, if my memory is correct, is +Laceby, a reporter for the 'News.' If you care to have a chat with me, +you will find me at St. Carthage's Presbytery, in Nixon Street."</p> + +<p>"But how did you happen——," Laceby began.</p> + +<p>"To change my views? A long story, which I will tell you if you call. +You must excuse me at present. I have to attend a sick call at St. +Luke's Hospital."</p> + +<p>They shook hands, and bade one another good-night. Laceby stood watching +Father O'Connor until he had disappeared round a corner.</p> + +<p>"A strange army, the priesthood," he said to himself. "Every race and +every rank of life—men who have always had a creed, and men who have +had none. Soldiers, sailors, men from trades and professions, drawn to +the Standard by an irresistible impulse that they term a vocation—but +fine fellows, every one of them."</p> + +<p>All the world knows St. Luke's Hospital, its Mother Superioress, and the +devoted nuns who labour for the sick poor. Within the wards many a great +healer has served an apprenticeship, and many a sorely-diseased<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> man or +woman has been snatched from death. There is no charitable institution +in which the Catholics of Australia have more reason to take a +legitimate pride. Standing in Burgoyne-avenue, its brick walls tower +towards the sky, one storey above another, while beside it the small and +modest building, now the convent, remains to speak of small beginnings +that have been brought to a great success.</p> + +<p>Father O'Connor was met at the door by a Sister in the black habit of +the Order, a sweet-faced, gentle nun, smiling as kindly as the priest +himself.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sister Bernardine!" he cried. "What makes you always smile? One +would expect a serious face in a place like this."</p> + +<p>"A smile never made a sick man worse," she answered. "The Mother +Superioress would like to speak to you before you see Mrs. Clarence."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Sister. I am never the worse for a word with Mother +Superioress. Where is she?"</p> + +<p>"In the convent expecting you. I think you should be as quick as you +can; the poor woman is seriously injured."</p> + +<p>The Mother Superioress beamed upon Father O'Connor. She had conceived a +great liking and respect for the young priest, for she recognised that +beneath his humour and high spirits was concealed a strong sense of +duty, akin to her own.</p> + +<p>"I shall not detain you, Father," she said. "This poor lady met with a +motor accident outside our doors, and was carried in here. She is too +sick to move, otherwise we would have sent her to a private <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>hospital. +Dr. Broxham has just seen her, and holds out no hope of recover. But the +trouble is this: she is a Protestant, yet she has asked to see a +priest."</p> + +<p>"Does her husband consent?" Father O'Connor asked.</p> + +<p>"The poor man was killed," the Mother Superioress answered. "We have not +told her that. But she does not ask for him. She asks constantly for a +priest—and for Denis Quirk."</p> + +<p>"Denis Quirk?" cried the priest, "and her name is Clarence! Strange! +Have you sent for Denis Quirk?"</p> + +<p>"Who is he?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"You must surely know Denis Quirk, the editor of the 'Freelance.' Two +such important persons as you and he must have met."</p> + +<p>"Of course I know him. He is one of our best friends. But are you +certain it is he she wishes to see?"</p> + +<p>"I merely surmise, Mother. I will see her at once and ask her—the +Sister told me to lose no time."</p> + +<p>In the big surgical ward of the hospital, the bed surrounded by screens, +Father O'Connor found a woman, her face of an ashen colour, and +constantly contracted in pain. She lay very quietly and in silence save +when a faint groan spoke of a spasm of agony. Her voice had sunk to a +faint whisper, so that the priest was compelled to bend over and listen +to that which she desired to say. But, in a low voice, and disjointed +sentences, she confided her sins to Father O'Connor's ears, and was then +received into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> Catholic Church. Before the priest left her she +asked:</p> + +<p>"May I see Mr. Denis Quirk?"</p> + +<p>"He shall be sent for at once," Father O'Connor answered. "Good-bye, and +God bless you. You are happy now?"</p> + +<p>"For the first time for many years. I only need Denis Quirk's +forgiveness before I die. Promise me I shall not see Mr. Clarence +again."</p> + +<p>"I promise that," Father O'Connor answered, whispering to himself: "May +the Lord have mercy on the poor man's soul, for he will need mercy."</p> + +<p>In half an hour Denis Quirk was shown to the sick woman's bedside. It is +not my purpose to say what passed between the dying wife and the husband +whom she had so grievously wronged. Denis Quirk readily forgave her the +evil she had done him, and with her he remained until she had passed the +portal of death, holding his hand in hers. Then he rose from his knees +and gazed into her face, and on it he saw a great joy and peace, that +had not rested there for many years.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<h3>DENIS QUIRK'S HOMECOMING.</h3> + +<p>There is a large field beside the house at "Layton," sloping downwards +from the rise, on which the house stands, towards the road. It is +particularly green in spring and early summer, while scattered here and +there about it are giant gum-trees, left purposely for shade. Here Denis +Quirk gathered the employees of the "Mercury," their wives, children, +and relations, soon after his return to Grey Town. In the centre of the +field was a huge marquee, with a great table in it spread with +snow-white linen and adorned with flowers and coloured ribbon. The +silver, cutlery, and glass, together with a multitude of eatables and +tempting drinks, proclaimed that this was provided for hungry appetites +and for the thirsty. Waitresses in black dresses, with white aprons and +caps, flitted backwards and forwards, arranging the table; occasionally +an inquisitive child peeped in to view the arrangements, while now and +again Molly Healy or Kathleen O'Connor entered to confer with the +caterer.</p> + +<p>There were other marquees in the field, places of interest and curiosity +to the smaller guests. In one of these were sweets in abundance, to be +had for the asking. The young lady in charge was the kindest and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> most +obliging dispenser of sweets that any child had ever yet seen. She did +not ask, "How much?" nor did she expect payment in base metal. A "Thank +you" and a smile was sufficient to satisfy her. In another there was an +amusing man, whose purpose it was to make children, both young and grown +up, laugh. With him was a mysterious gentleman who performed the most +wonderful feats of magic, and two young ladies who sang and danced as +never young ladies had done before.</p> + +<p>Outside there were sports and cricket, the big "Layton" motor to ride +in, and the whole range of the field for romps and games. Finally, to +complete the day, there was to be a picture show after dark, with music +from the Grey Town Band to add greater enjoyment. Was it to be wondered +at if children and adults vowed that this was a picnic complete to the +smallest detail?</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk had arranged the entertainment to celebrate his return to +the "Mercury" Office. He had begun on a very small scale, his intention +being to limit the pleasure to those immediately interested in the +paper. But the invitations had spread from one to another, from the +staff to their relations, then to their friends, and finally to their +friends' friends.</p> + +<p>"Let them all come," cried Denis Quirk. "If the thing is to be done, the +more who find pleasure in it the better. Every child in Grey Town who +cares to and can squeeze in, is welcome."</p> + +<p>He had returned to the town without fuss or excitement, and had strolled +into the "Mercury" office as if he had never been absent from it. Cairns +had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> rushed to welcome him, a broad smile on his face, and a suspicious +dimness, about the eyes.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, Quirk, I am glad to see you," he cried.</p> + +<p>Then he turned away for an instant.</p> + +<p>"I never knew I was an emotional man before, but it makes my eyes wet to +see you," he explained, as he blew his nose violently, and gripped Denis +Quirk's hand. "You swear not to leave us again?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Not until I am called for, Cairns. Upon my life, Cairns, I never knew +how much I loved you until to-day," Denis answered. He wrung Cairns' +hand until the editor winced. Then he went in haste to interview the +staff.</p> + +<p>"Tim O'Neill!" he cried, meeting that youth outside the editor's office, +"how far up the ladder have you climbed?"</p> + +<p>"Senior reporter, sir. Glad to see you back, Mr. Quirk."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Tim. I suppose you will be leaving us soon, now that you are +famous?"</p> + +<p>"Not unless you tell me to go, sir. I am quite happy here—plenty of +work, and, now you are back," Tim asked wistfully, "there will be some +fighting to do?"</p> + +<p>"You are a worthy descendant of a fighting race, Imp. Is there anything +perfect in Grey Town?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, nothing quite perfect—excepting Miss O'Connor," Tim answered +with a blush.</p> + +<p>"Nothing perfect! Then we must fight. Take down your blackthorn, Tim, +and get your muscle up."</p> + +<p>In this manner he passed from one to another, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> the "Mercury" staff +was one broad smile of joy and satisfaction, for they all loved the big, +ugly man.</p> + +<p>A week after his return the picnic was arranged. Kathleen O'Connor and +Molly Healy had charge of the minutiæ, while Denis ordered the big +things, and opened his purse to its widest extent.</p> + +<p>"They shall remember this, every one of them, right down to the babies +in arms," he said. "They welcomed me when I returned; it is for me to +show my gratitude."</p> + +<p>At one o'clock the adults assembled for dinner in the large marquee. Old +Samuel Quirk was wheeled in in an invalid chair, but, though he smiled +urbanely on the company, he did not gather the significance of the +proceedings, for he was now as much an infant as the head compositor's +youngest baby. Father Healy came to bless the proceedings, and Dr. Marsh +to stand by in case of sickness. After the dinner Cairns rose to his +feet, to the sound of loud applause.</p> + +<p>"Reverend Father, ladies and gentlemen," he began; "I want you to drink +the health of the finest man in Grey Town. Mr. Quirk went away against +our wish, and he has not come back a minute too soon. We needed him all +the time he was in Melbourne. The 'Mercury' missed his power of +organisation, his splendid gift of pugnacity. The old gang has been +broken up, but there are a few of the same type prowling about. See that +your gun is loaded and cocked, Quirk; there is plenty of shooting to be +done in this town yet."</p> + +<p>"Ebenezer?" Denis Quirk asked, with a broad grin.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p><p>"Ebenezer is crippled, but a few of the same species remain with us," +replied Cairns. "We will put you back into the Council, and send you to +Parliament if you like."</p> + +<p>At this there was loud applause, while from the distance could be heard +the sound of a baby squalling.</p> + +<p>Before Cairns could continue his speech Molly Healy appeared at the door +and cried out to Mrs. Crawford, the baby's mother:</p> + +<p>"You will have to come to him yourself. Sure, I fancy he must have +swallowed a pin, and it is scratching his inside."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Crawford sprang from her seat and hurried to the succour of her +offspring, while Molly remarked to Cairns:</p> + +<p>"No wonder the child is scared, with you shouting so loud."</p> + +<p>Thereupon she whisked out of the marquee.</p> + +<p>"We want a few of your stamp in Parliament," continued the orator. "So, +whenever you pass the word, we will be up to put you into Parliament. +Meanwhile, here is your good health, Quirk, and we are glad to have you +with us."</p> + +<p>Men, women, and children shouted themselves hoarse as Cairns sat down, +and Denis Quirk rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Not yet, Cairns," he said. "I don't intend to leave the 'Mercury' just +now, when I am realising all she is to me. The sound of her heart, as +she turns out the news of the world, is music to me. I love to sit at +work with my coat off and sleeves rolled up, preparing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> a daily +stimulant for Grey Town. But when Grey Town is braced up, if you still +need a man who will make your interests his, and battle for you in +Parliament, just call on me. I am glad to be with you again. There is +not one man in the office that is not dear to me—I love even his wife +and children. Dr. Marsh and I have been consulting as to the future +management of the paper, turning over, at the same time, the great +social problem. Now, we offer you a partnership in the profits of the +paper. Dr. Marsh and I will take one-third of the sum, and divide +two-thirds between you, on a graduated scale, to be decided in +conference. Mr. Cairns will, of course, receive the largest share, and +from him, down to the printers' devil, you will all be partners. How +does that suit you?"</p> + +<p>A shout of applause showed that his proposal was satisfactory to the +whole staff.</p> + +<p>"Then an agreement shall be drawn up between us, but we rely upon you +all to work hard and prove your appreciation of the offer. This scheme +is an attempt to find a solution to the labour problem. You all realise +that fact? Dr. Marsh and I have purchased the machinery; we have +initiated the enterprise, and we are not prepared to divide our property +among you; we are merely trying to pay you on an equitable basis. This +is to be a partnership of profits, not of the stock. I wish you all to +understand that. I now ask you, if you approve, to hold up your hands."</p> + +<p>Every man, woman, and child signified their acceptance.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p><p>"Thank you. I hope it will prove a success, and that we shall never +regret our new departure. I have only a few more words to say to you at +present. Mr. Cairns tells me that you are loyal, every one of you. That +is what I ask of you—loyalty to your own interests. Put your best work +into the paper, and remember that the 'Mercury' is the production of +every member of the staff. Thank you again for your welcome; you have +made me realise that the 'Mercury' is home, the staff a happy and united +family, to whom I am a father."</p> + +<p>He spoke simply, in a straightforward, manly style, that went to their +hearts. When he sat down they continued to applaud for several minutes +before filing out to view the pictures.</p> + +<p>"Denis Quirk is white," a compositor remarked emphatically to Tim +O'Neill.</p> + +<p>"White!" replied Tim. "He is snow-white. He is the biggest and the +whitest thing in Grey Town—outside Miss O'Connor."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + +<h3>A PROPOSAL.</h3> + +<p>"Where shall I put the old gown?" sighed Molly Healy as she surveyed a +trunk already packed to overflowing. "I took it out to make place for +the shoes, and now I must take out the shawl to make place for it. I am +tired of taking out and putting in again."</p> + +<p>Therewith she seated herself despairingly on a chair and eyed the trunk +in disgust. Kathleen O'Connor regarded her with a smile of amusement.</p> + +<p>"May I see what I can do?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I am beyond refusing you anything, Kathleen. I have that trunk on my +brain, and it's worse than water in the same place. Mrs. Gorman kept +poking her nose in and telling me: 'I had no method' until I slammed the +door in her face and locked it. Then the Father and Dr. Marsh began to +look in on me through the window, telling me I was overlooked when the +gift of tidiness was being distributed. But I have sent them on a dying +message to Pat Collins, who is not sick. Dan, too, must come along and +ask me why I was swearing? There is only one good angel in Grey Town, +and you are that one, Kathleen O'Connor."</p> + +<p>Kathleen began to remove the contents of the trunk, loosely rolled up +and thrown in after a harum-scarum fashion.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p><p>"What will you do at St. Luke's?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I am going there to mortify the flesh. Nursing I love, but to be tidy +is a penance to me."</p> + +<p>"Make a big effort," suggested Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"I wonder could I? I wouldn't enjoy a tidy room one bit. I would not so +much as dare to brush my hair for fear of disturbing the arrangements."</p> + +<p>"The Mother Superioress insists upon her nurses' appearance being spick +and span," said Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"For two ha'pence I would not go there, but ever since I cared for poor +Joe Mulcahy I have wished to be a nurse. Well, heaven help me and send +me the virtue of order."</p> + +<p>Kathleen had managed by rearrangement of the contents to find a place in +the trunk for the rebellious gown. She closed the trunk and tied the +straps.</p> + +<p>"I shall miss you every moment of the day," she sighed.</p> + +<p>"Why not come with me and keep my room tidy? Now that Denis Quirk is +home you have no call to be spending your life slaving for the old man."</p> + +<p>A hammering at the door prevented Kathleen O'Connor from replying.</p> + +<p>"What do you want with me?" cried Molly.</p> + +<p>"A gentleman would be asking to see you—Mr. Cairns," Mrs. Gorman +answered from the passage.</p> + +<p>"Now, what would he be wanting with me?" asked Molly. "Tell him I am +coming," she cried. "Am I tidy, Kathleen?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you are," replied Kathleen. "I will put<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> the smaller things +in your bag for you while you entertain him."</p> + +<p>Molly found Cairns waiting for her in the passage. Always punctilious in +his dress to-day he was exceptionally spruce, his tie very new, and +clothes without one crease.</p> + +<p>"Come into the garden, Molly," he said, and there was an unaccustomed +nervousness in his voice that caused Molly to ask:</p> + +<p>"Are you not well, Mr. Cairns?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes—perfectly well," he answered. "Why do you ask?"</p> + +<p>"You look pale, and there is a kind of a quiver in your voice," she +answered as they strolled to a seat in the garden that overlooked the +town, a favourite place for Father Healy when saying his Office.</p> + +<p>"Sit down and rest yourself," Molly advised. "You get no peace down +there in the office. Denis Quirk believes you are all machinery like +himself."</p> + +<p>But Cairns remained standing behind the seat on which she sat. After a +short silence Molly Healy asked:</p> + +<p>"Now, what are you doing to my hair? Do be leaving it alone; it is +untidy enough already."</p> + +<p>"Molly," he said, and his voice caused her to turn suddenly.</p> + +<p>"I knew you were ill," she said. "It's the rest cure that would be doing +you good. Denis Quirk has overworked you."</p> + +<p>"Try to be serious for once," he asked.</p> + +<p>"Serious? There is no need for me to be serious.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> Your face is solemn +enough for the whole town. Just let my hair alone. There it was just put +up in a hurry and you have pulled it down."</p> + +<p>Molly had glorious brown hair, her one real beauty, and she rose with it +falling in waves to her waist.</p> + +<p>"If you only knew the work it is to build it up you would be down on +your knees begging forgiveness of me," she cried.</p> + +<p>"If you only knew that," he began, and ended with a mumbled "that I love +you?"</p> + +<p>Molly Healy dropped her hair and gazed at him in absolute surprise.</p> + +<p>"Did you come all this way to joke with me?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Please take me seriously for once," said Cairns. "I don't want you to +go away from Grey Town if I can keep you here."</p> + +<p>Molly had fixed her hair up in haste. It formed a great tower on her +head, for she needed time to arrange it in order. Slowly dawning +surprise crept into her eyes as he spoke, surprise with perhaps a not +unnatural triumph.</p> + +<p>"I really believe you are in earnest," she said; "but I can't understand +it. They call me 'plain Molly Healy,' and I believe it from what the +glass tells me."</p> + +<p>"In my eyes you are beautiful," he replied.</p> + +<p>"No blarney, if you please," she said. "I don't love you, and that is a +fact, Mr. Cairns. But I will think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> of you—and perhaps—that is, if you +don't find someone else in the meantime—when I come back——."</p> + +<p>"How soon will that be?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"A matter of three years."</p> + +<p>"Three years!" he groaned; "an eternity to wait. I will give you three +months to think about it; then I will come to Melbourne and ask again."</p> + +<p>"And what will Mother Superioress say to me with a young man?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, blow—I mean, never mind the Mother Superioress. Quirk tells me she +is delightfully human, and as sympathetic as you are," replied Cairns.</p> + +<p>"Sympathetic? Sure, you must be in love to believe that of me. I am as +hard as flint. But come if you like, and bring me a big box of +chocolates. Will you now?"</p> + +<p>"I intend to bring a ring with me. What stones do you like best?"</p> + +<p>"Emeralds, to be sure, and diamonds. But don't be spending your money +until you are sure of me. I may be taking the veil myself."</p> + +<p>"If you do I shall destroy myself," said Cairns.</p> + +<p>"Would you do that for me?" she cried eagerly. "How would you do it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, poison, or possibly a razor. But there will be no need for that."</p> + +<p>"And do you really love me—me, Molly Healy? I don't understand it. I am +plain and untidy, with never an accomplishment to my name. If I had +money I could see a reason for it. Why do you love me?" she asked.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p><p>"Because you are Molly Healy, cheerful, light-hearted and kind," he +answered.</p> + +<p>"I intend to think of you all night and every night. I can't think of +you and be neglecting the day's work. But, perhaps, after three months, +I may be willing to consider the ring. Now be off with you, for I am +busy. You may kiss my hand, and here is a rose for you. Good-bye, Mr. +Cairns, for three months. Sure, I will miss you."</p> + +<p>To Kathleen O'Connor Molly confided Cairns' proposal.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand it," she sighed. "If it had been you, Kathleen, I +would not have wondered, for you are as beautiful as I am plain. But +what made the man be wanting me? I have nothing beyond my hair, and who +would be marrying a girl for her hair?"</p> + +<p>"If I were a man I would marry no other woman but Molly Healy. Plain! +Why, you are lovely, and you have a heart of gold, Molly," Kathleen +answered.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Cairns could not see my heart; it is what a man sees that he loves. +But I am perplexed what to do. I like Mr. Cairns, and he is an honest +gentleman, not like Gerard, all on the surface. But I don't fancy I love +him. What does it feel like to be in love, Kathleen?"</p> + +<p>Kathleen blushed scarlet at the question.</p> + +<p>"There is a real love and a false one," she said. "The false sort loves +a man, not for what he is, but for what he is imagined to be. The real +love comes from recognising that a man is noble and brave."</p> + +<p>Molly pondered a while over this.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p><p>"Mr. Cairns is not young, and he is not beautiful," she soliloquised, +"but he is honest and brave, just a gentleman. Perhaps I might come to +love him in time."</p> + +<p>"Shall I prophesy?" Kathleen asked.</p> + +<p>"If it would be any help to you or to me, I would not be the one to stop +you."</p> + +<p>"Then I see you, in six months time, Mrs. Cairns," Kathleen answered.</p> + +<p>"I wish it had been O'Brien, or Fitzgerald, even O'Connor, but Desmond +has chosen the better way," said Molly.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> + +<h3>GOOD AND EVIL.</h3> + +<p>It was evening again at "Layton." The moon was shining down on Kathleen +O'Connor as it shone on her that night when Gerard walked beside and +tempted her. She was pacing the shadowed avenue with Denis Quirk beside +her. Their voices were low, mere faint murmurs to Father Desmond +O'Connor, who sat on the verandah beside old Samuel Quirk and spoke an +occasional word to the old man.</p> + +<p>There was stillness in the garden, bright moonlight and dark shadows. +Overhead the heavens were glittering with a myriad stars. Well might +Kathleen's thoughts revert to that other night when danger paced beside +her. This night she had no dread, for Denis Quirk had been tried and +tempered by the furnace of suffering. Nevertheless, the girl's heart was +beating more rapidly than usual, because she recognised that this night +marked an epoch in her existence.</p> + +<p>For three months since his wife's death Denis Quirk had abstained from +asking that which was constantly in his mind. This he did, not because +he felt himself bound by a specious loyalty to a false wife, but that +Kathleen O'Connor might become accustomed to him in his new position. He +would not hurry nor attempt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> to constrain her; he preferred to give her +time to consider him as one permitted to woo her honourably. He became +more attentive, more openly anxious to give the girl whatever she +desired, more courteous in speech and action; but he refrained from +asking the inevitable question.</p> + +<p>As they walked side by side Kathleen had the feeling that Mrs. Quirk was +close to them. She could almost hear the voice calling "Kathleen" from +the drawing-room upstairs, but this night there was no note of warning +in the voice. She knew that "Granny" Quirk had looked forward to a union +between herself and Denis as the consummation of earthly happiness. She +believed that even in her present state of bliss her old friend would +rejoice in that union.</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk softened his voice to a tender key that is not customary. As +a general rule he spoke in the tone of command or in a blunt, off-hand +manner. To-night he had chosen the note of entreaty.</p> + +<p>"Kathleen" (he rested tenderly upon the word) "I have longed for you +many a day. Sometimes I have been torn by a tempest of passionate +desire. But I have always respected you, and that respect restrained me. +But if you had known the devouring furnace that has burned in me day and +night you would have pitied me. I was compelled to hold myself always in +hand, to avoid even an unguarded word or look, because I wished to walk +with honour beside me. Now I am free to speak all that is in my heart, +and that all is 'I love you and I desire you above all women.'"</p> + +<p>Kathleen did not answer at once. She was moved<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> by the passion in his +voice; she had come to love him, but she was afraid.</p> + +<p>"I am frightened," she said in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Frightened of me?" he asked. "Why, I will protect you against the whole +world. There is no place for fear."</p> + +<p>"You are asking me to give you myself, and if I give, I must give +unreservedly."</p> + +<p>"Take any time you like to consider it. I can wait," he answered gently.</p> + +<p>"No. I don't ask any longer time than a few minutes. Leave me alone for +ten minutes; then come to me."</p> + +<p>Without another word he returned to the verandah and seated himself +beside Father O'Connor, lighting his pipe and blowing thick volumes of +blue smoke into the evening air.</p> + +<p>Kathleen paced on alone. But suddenly the shrubs beside the avenue +parted and Gerard came out quietly. So softly did he step that he was +beside her before she recognised the fact. Then she shrank away from him +in terror.</p> + +<p>"Kathleen," he said, "I've tried to forget you, but I can't. I came here +to-night to ask you to come with me; I heard that cursed Quirk speaking +to you. What can you care for an ugly brute like that?"</p> + +<p>"He is as far above you," she said, "as that star is above the world. +How dare you even mention his name?"</p> + +<p>He paid no attention to her remark.</p> + +<p>"I don't come to ask you to share poverty. I offer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> you a good name and +a fortune," he said. "My father is dead and I am heir to great estates +and a time-honoured name."</p> + +<p>"If you offered me the world I would refuse it," she answered.</p> + +<p>"You loved me once——."</p> + +<p>"Never. That was mere imagination on my part, not real honest love," she +cried. "Go, at once, before Mr. Quirk returns."</p> + +<p>"No, I shall stay," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Then take the consequences."</p> + +<p>Denis Quirk's step was to be heard crunching the gravel as he came. When +he was near them Kathleen hurried to him.</p> + +<p>Denis increased his pace until he came to where Gerard stood.</p> + +<p>"I warned you not to come near this house," he said.</p> + +<p>"The moth comes to the candle. Your warning was useless," said Gerard. +"Night after night I have walked this avenue with Kathleen O'Connor. Now +she is tired of me."</p> + +<p>"Liar," cried Denis Quirk.</p> + +<p>"Abuse cannot alter what I say."</p> + +<p>"Put up your hands and defend yourself. I hate to strike a defenceless +man," said Denis, moved to fury.</p> + +<p>"Do you fancy I am afraid of you?" Gerard asked tauntingly.</p> + +<p>"Then take it," cried Denis Quirk, and his fist flew out suddenly, beat +down Gerard's guard, and stretched him on the gravel path.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p><p>"You have killed him," cried Kathleen in sudden terror.</p> + +<p>"Not I. Such men as this never die."</p> + +<p>Denis stooped and examined the prostrate man.</p> + +<p>"He will live to lie again," he said. "I know him for a liar. Night +after night I have followed you, not because I distrusted you, but I +have seen him lurking about and I feared danger."</p> + +<p>She came to him with outstretched hands and hid herself in the big man's +arms. They went side by side up the long avenue, and their steps seemed +to march to a triumphant anthem.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="POST_SCRIPTUM" id="POST_SCRIPTUM"></a>POST SCRIPTUM.</h2> + +<p>Grey Town after many years, and Grey Town in the early summer, when the +farmers were congratulating themselves on fat factory cheques. But a +changed Grey Town, for prosperity had transformed the town. It was no +longer merely a country centre for a pastoral and agricultural district, +but a busy industrial town, where the manufacturing interests were as +important as the farming interests; where every morning a stream of +workers flowed from the outside suburbs into the town; where there was +bustle and noise and confusion; where money circulated freely; where men +grew rich and proud in the power of their money bags. A happier Grey +Town? Perhaps not quite so contented as the lazy, easy-going, and +self-satisfied Grey Town, as Denis Quirk had found it, for here +comparative poverty stood side by side with riches, and suffered in the +contrast.</p> + +<p>Prosperity had come to the town on sound lines, thanks to Denis Quirk. +He had provided that riches should not be accumulated in Grey Town at +the expense of suffering and discomfort to the poor. It was thanks to +him, so the Grey Towners said, that the factory area was separated from +the residential portion of the town. They also hinted in Grey Town that +he was largely responsible for the Government<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> Bill, compelling +landlords to provide their tenants with sufficient space for a garden +and yard of greater extent than one might swing a cat in. There were +others in it, Grey Town acknowledged that; but their Member, their Denis +Quirk, was the prime mover.</p> + +<p>He was rich now, and happy, but I may safely say that no poor man paused +beside his gate to hurl a curse at the oppressor of the unfortunate. He +still had enemies—his determined and combative nature made that +unavoidable—but his enemies were of those who had been prevented from +exploiting the poor by his agency. These termed him an enemy to +progress, their notions of progress being summed up in self-progress. +And they vowed that "that demagogue Quirk" should go out when the +country recovered its mental equilibrium, lost for the time in an absurd +humanitarianism. He was in his garden, sitting on a garden seat, with a +book in his hand, but work had been declared an insult by the two rosy +rogues, a boy and a girl, by the way, who had escaped from Nurse, now +vainly seeking them in the house. Kathleen was beside her husband, +watching in an amused manner the subservience of the master of men to +the children.</p> + +<p>Kathleen, the elder, was a copy of her mother; Denis, the boy, promised +to be as good as his father; singly, they were powerful; united, as +to-day, they were irresistible. And they had decided that "Daddy" must +play a game with them, and the game should be hide and seek.</p> + +<p>"Hide 'oo eyes and count," said Kathleen, junior, in a compelling voice.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p><p>"But Daddy wants to read," expostulated Mother, in a tone of entreaty.</p> + +<p>"Daddy mustn't read to-day. It's Denny's birfday. Daddies don't read on +their little boys' birfdays, does they, Denny?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Denny, in a voice of conviction.</p> + +<p>"What do Daddies do under such circumstances?" asked Denis, senior, in +an amused tone of voice.</p> + +<p>"What their little girls wants them to do, doesn't them, Denny?"</p> + +<p>"'Es," answered Denny, seeing no reason to controvert this reasoning.</p> + +<p>"But it's not your birthday, Kath," suggested Mother.</p> + +<p>"It's Denny's, and Denny gave it to me, 'cos I told him I wouldn't kiss +him if he didn't."</p> + +<p>Here the peculiar injustice of this proceeding suddenly struck Denny, +and he began to cry, not in a quiet and subdued manner, as a respectable +boy would, but in a stentorian roar.</p> + +<p>It was at this moment that Molly Healy came up the avenue, and she +rushed at and snatched Denny up in her arms.</p> + +<p>"Were they cruel to my boy on his birthday? Never mind. Molly's brought +you something nice," she cried.</p> + +<p>"Now, be under no misapprehensions, Miss Molly Healy. Neither Kathleen +nor I have done anything to deserve that scornful look. If you must +scold anyone, there is the culprit. Kath. has swindled Denny out of his +birthday."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p><p>Kath. had noted the result of Denny's roaring, and she argued that +similar conduct on her part would meet with similar treatment. +Therefore, she took up the strain of loud weeping, from which Molly had +interrupted her brother.</p> + +<p>"Something for you, too, Kath.," cried the kind-hearted and impulsive +Molly, handing Kath. a parcel similar to that which the boy was hugging +in his arms. Straightway Kath. ceased from tears, and consented, when +Nurse appeared, to accompany her indoors and there investigate the +contents.</p> + +<p>"I've done it at last!" said Molly, when she had ceased from bestowing +kisses on the children, greatly to Nurse's indignation, and had +permitted them to be led away.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to tell me!" cried Kathleen, springing up impulsively +and kissing Molly.</p> + +<p>"Done what? Murder, suicide, or the Confiding Public?" asked Denis.</p> + +<p>"Oh! you old stupid. You never understand," cried Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"I claim to understand the English language when it is openly expressed. +But I lay no claim to a knowledge of female wireless telegraphy. Miss +Molly tells you, in the tone of one who confesses a crime, that she has +'done it at last.' If she will explain, I may possibly be able to change +the sentence from murder to justifiable homicide."</p> + +<p>Kathleen went to him and whispered in his ear.</p> + +<p>He rose, and grasped Molly's hand so firmly that she winced under his +pressure.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p><p>"And why was this not done years ago?" he asked. "Why keep an +unfortunate poor man constantly on the verge of suicide?"</p> + +<p>"I was getting over Desmond," replied Molly! "It takes a girl a long +time to recover from a heart affection, and I was trying him to learn if +he was constant."</p> + +<p>"Well, better late than never. I wish you and Cairns joy. Have you +mastered housekeeping yet?"</p> + +<p>"There you are!" cried Molly triumphantly. "How should I marry and never +know how to look after the man's house? But I am getting on now, and I +don't expect to be much better this side of the grave, so when he came +with his monthly 'Will you?' I just dropped into his arms, and that +ended it."</p> + +<p>"And what did Cairns do under those distressing circumstances?"</p> + +<p>"He didn't know exactly what to do until I told him. Then he did it +fairly well for an amateur."</p> + +<p>"And when do you intend to be married?" asked Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"Next week, to be sure," answered Molly without hesitation.</p> + +<p>"Impossible! It would be an outrage on the conventialities," cried +Denis.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p><p>"And haven't I been outraging them ever since I came to Grey Town? If +they expect anything ordinary of Molly Healy, they won't get what they +expect. Next week will be Easter, and Desmond here to marry us, and next +week will see Molly Healy Molly Cairns."</p> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<div class="center"><img src="images/i264.jpg" width='700' height='419' alt="THE END" /></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Grey Town, by Gerald Baldwin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREY TOWN *** + +***** This file should be named 26034-h.htm or 26034-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/0/3/26034/ + +Produced by Nick Wall, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Grey Town + An Australian Story + +Author: Gerald Baldwin + +Release Date: July 12, 2008 [EBook #26034] +[Date last updated: January 3, 2009] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREY TOWN *** + + + + +Produced by Nick Wall, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +GREY TOWN + + +J ROY STEVENS, Print., +1-7 Knox Place, Melbourne + + +[Illustration: She raised the oar, and brought it down smartly across +his knuckles.--(See page 190).] + + + + +GREY TOWN + +An Australian Story + +BY + +GERALD R. BALDWIN + +Author of "Dr. Pat Cassidy," etc. + +[Illustration: Publisher's logo] + +Wholly set up and printed in Australia. + +Registered by the Postmaster-General for transmission through the +post as a book. + +"MESSENGER" OFFICE, ST. PATRICK'S COLLEGE +MELBOURNE + +1922 + + + + +Contents + + +Chapter. Page. + + I. THE PRESBYTERY 7 + + II. MICHAEL O'CONNOR 17 + + III. THE QUIRKS 26 + + IV. PROMOTION 36 + + V. DENIS QUIRK 45 + + VI. READJUSTMENT 56 + + VII. "THE OBSERVER" DIES 68 + + VIII. JOHN GERARD 80 + + IX. DAYS OF STORM AND STRESS 91 + + X. RUMOUR, HYDRA-HEADED 104 + + XI. TEMPTATION 112 + + XII. SYLVIA JACKSON 120 + + XIII. DENIS REFUSES TO SPEAK 131 + + XIV. "AND ONE OTHER!" 140 + + XV. DESMOND GOES UNDER 155 + + XVI. THE VIRTUE OF GREY TOWN 167 + + XVII. FATHER HEALY'S MISSION 180 + + XVIII. THROUGH THE GORGE 186 + + XIX. "THE FREELANCE" 193 + + XX. GREAT IS THE TRUTH 199 + + XXI. THE BISHOP'S SOLUTION 211 + + XXII. A LINK BROKEN 221 + + XXIII. A SICK CALL 232 + + XXIV. DENIS QUIRK'S HOMECOMING 238 + + XXV. A PROPOSAL 245 + + XXVI. GOOD AND EVIL 252 + +POST SCRIPTUM 257 + + + + +Grey Town. + +An Australian Story. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE PRESBYTERY. + + +Grey Town looks down on the river and the ocean, its streets climbing up +the small hill upon which the town has been built. It is a pleasant +place in which to live, where, in winter, the air is warm, and in summer +a cool breeze from the ocean tempers the hottest day. At the feet of the +town the ocean beats restlessly on the narrow strip of beach that +fringes the shore. On the distant horizon one may often see the black +smoke, sometimes the hull, shadowy and indistinct, of some passing +steamer. But only the smaller steamers or ships can enter the bay, for +there are reefs and sand-spits, to touch which would mean destruction. +Beside the town, the River Grey enters the ocean. When the tide is high, +and the river swollen by heavy rains, there is a turmoil of waters at +the bar, ocean and river contending for mastery. Then the river, banked +up at its exit, overflows the low lands that lie to the east of the +town, turning a green valley into a muddy lake. At other times the Grey +valley is green and pleasant, excepting where the masses of grey rock +from which it has its name jut out over the river. + +At the highest summit of the town stands the Catholic church, the +presbytery beside it. Years ago, when Father Healy came to his new +parish, he found an acre block, vacant and forlorn, the very summit of +the highest hill above the town. + +"This has been destined for my church. In accordance with precedent, I +shall build here," said the priest. + +The agent to whom he made the remark laughed doubtingly. He knew Grey +Town, man and woman, intimately; the peculiarities of Ebenezer Brown, +owner of this plot of land, were well known to him. + +"You can whistle for this site. It belongs to Ebenezer Brown," he said. + +"Ebenezer Brown has his price, I presume," remarked Father Healy. + +"He will sell this land--to an ordinary man--for twice its real value. +To you he will not sell at any price." + +"He shall have his price--from you. It will be worth four times its real +value in a few years. Go and buy the land." + +Thus was the site acquired, to the great indignation and consternation +of the late owner. + +"I might have named my own price if I had known who wanted it," he +growled. + +"You named your price, exactly double the true value," answered the +agent. + +"I could have got four times, six times, the real value, if you had +dropped a hint. I have been robbed." + +"Robbed!" cried the agent. "That would be a reversal of the ordinary +routine. You old villain!" he added, as Ebenezer Brown walked out of his +shop. + +The old man was wealthy, and a miser, each of which characteristics may +be corollary to the other. He made money by saving it; he saved it +because he loved it. Many things he had achieved by strategy. The "Grey +Town Observer," at one time the property of Michael O'Connor, was now +Ebenezer Brown's, won by usury. The late owner, a careless man, was +content to continue as editor, and thus serve the man who had robbed +him. He was sufficiently shrewd to recognise his employer's character, +yet at once too easy going and honest to prove other than a good +servant. But he held, and always expressed, a heartfelt contempt for his +master. + +St. Mary's Church at Grey Town is large and commodious, built of +bluestone, with a square tower. Over the porch is a statue of the +Blessed Virgin, and from that position She appears to look down upon and +bless the town. + +When the church was built, many, both friends and enemies, declared that +it was too large. + +"It's all church, and no congregation," asserted Wise, the bootmaker, +whose custom it was to address a few disciples in the Public Gardens +every Sunday. + +This remark was repeated to Father Healy, and smilingly he answered: + +"The congregation will grow, but the church can't do that. Mr. Wise has +a larger church, and a smaller congregation, all said and done." + +And, sure enough, the congregation increased, until there was barely +standing room for many at the early morning Mass. + +In front, St. Mary's looks down on St. Paul's, the Anglican place of +worship; below it, on the further slope of the hill, stands the +Presbyterian chapel. On Sundays the three bells clang a loud discord. +Throughout the week, however, Mr. Green, of St. Luke's, and Mr. +Matthews, the Presbyterian minister, frequently visited Father Healy to +discuss any subject but religion. + +Saving for Wise, chief Ishmaelite of Grey Town, and opposed to every +religious and political belief, peace prevailed in Grey Town. Father +Healy came to the town desiring concord, and, after a short and natural +estrangement, first Mr. Green, the Anglican clergyman, and later the +other ministers of the town, had offered him the hand of friendship. +There were, in fact, no greater friends and truer admirers than Father +Healy and Mr. Green. When the priest had built his school, and invited +the Bishop to lay the foundation stone, Mr. Green was present to offer +his congratulations. Many an evening the two sat at bridge with Clarke, +the solicitor, and Michael O'Connor to make the table complete. + +"Let Grey Town be an object lesson to Australia," laughed Father Healy. +"Here we value one another as citizens, and overlook each other's +religious misbeliefs." + +To this Mr. Green replied smilingly: + +"You only need one thing to be a perfect man, Father." + +"And that is to pull you over the wall beside me," cried the priest. + +If St. Mary's Church were large and imposing, the presbytery was old and +diminutive. Father Healy had bought the land and the house as it stood +on a block beside the one for church and schools, and he had made no +attempt to enlarge or improve the house. + +"Time enough to build when I am dead," he remarked in answer to a +deputation of his parishioners. + +"But it is a disgrace to us to see you living in a ramshackle building, +half in and half out of doors," said the spokesman. + +"I have built church and schools, and I am content," replied the priest. +"Let the next man erect a presbytery. What there is, is enough for me, +and who is to grumble, if not I?" + +Therewith he dismissed the deputation kindly, and returned to his +study, the bow window of which looked out on the garden, a quiet +solitude, where the priest often walked to say his Office. It was like +the soul of good Father Healy, a peaceful spot, filled with +sweet-smelling, simple flowers. + +This garden was the pride of Dan, who acted as general factotum at the +presbytery, and laboured and whistled the day through, with a smiling +recognition for all comers. + +"'Tis the finest piece of garden in Grey Town," he was wont to declare. +"Give me the old wallflower, the rose, violet, and carnation, and let +others be stocking their beds with dahlias and chrysanthemums, which +have no smell to remind you of the old country." + +There were few idle moments in his life. He scrubbed the presbytery +verandah, and cleaned the windows, groomed and doctored the priest's +horses, fed the fowls, and spent his leisure in an attempt to keep the +school children out of the presbytery garden and orchard. In the last of +his tasks he succeeded with all the scholars but Tim O'Neill. But Tim +had respect for no one, not even Dan. Yet Father Healy prophesied good +things of Tim. + +Mrs. Maggie Gorman was housekeeper at the presbytery, a woman whose sour +face concealed a kindly heart. She and Dan were for ever disputing, yet +each held the other in profound respect. Let anyone traduce Mrs. Gorman, +and Dan was bristling all over like an indignant porcupine. Say one word +disrespectful of Dan before Mrs. Gorman, and you might wish that one +word unspoken. Molly Healy, the priest's sister, declared that they +quarrelled, yet loved, one another, as if they had been sister and +brother. + +Molly Healy herself spent a large part of her life in a struggle for +precedence with Mrs. Gorman. But the housekeeper contrived to hold her +position of authority. + +"A child like you," she remarked, "to be troubling herself with the +grocer and butcher! When you are as old as myself, I shall let you have +your own way all the time." + +To this Molly acquiesced of necessity; there was no appeal to her +brother. + +"Now, peace! peace!" he would say. "I am here to look after the souls of +the parish, and you must not trouble me about the affairs of the flesh. +Let Mrs. Gorman take care of the meat, since it pleases her. If you +don't, she will be poisoning us." + +Molly Healy was a notability in Grey Town. Saving the school children, +no one called her any other title but "Molly," or "Molly Healy." If a +friend had chanced to do so, it would have caused Molly bitter pain, for +she was a kindly soul. Plain, yet not unpleasing, she had a +superabundance of bright Irish humour, and a quickness of repartee that +amused all, but offended none. + +"It's only Molly Healy," people were accustomed to say, "and she's the +sweetest, kindest creature, that wouldn't hurt a fly, of intention." + +When she first came to Grey Town the girl had been desperately +home-sick, and many the longing glance she had cast at the ocean, +wishing that it might carry her back to dear old Ireland. But now she +was content to live in the bright, friendly land that was so kindly a +foster-mother to her. And there were a multitude of duties, mostly +self-imposed, to keep her mind and body busy. + +In the presbytery grounds there was a veritable menagerie of animal +pensioners dependent on her--two dogs, three cats, with a numerous +progeny of kittens; a cockatoo and magpie, marvellously gifted in slang; +two seagulls, kept for the benefit of the snails that infested the +garden; an aviary of small, brightly-coloured birds; and, lastly, a +miserable sheep, rescued from death by the roadside to live in an +asthmatic condition of semi-invalidism. + +Then there were the human pensioners, men and women of any belief, who +came periodically for food. They worshipped Molly Healy. But her kingdom +was over the ragamuffins and rapscallions of the town, with whom she +stood on the friendliest terms. + +"Sure, I am reforming the imps," she was accustomed to say. + +But it was a notorious fact that her young proteges rarely developed +into moral perfection. + +Such was the presbytery of Grey Town and its inmates in the days of +which I am writing. + +Father Healy was eating a perfunctory dinner in the dining-room, Mrs. +Gorman and Dan wrangled in the kitchen, but Molly sat in the playground +of the school, with Tim O'Neill, the culprit, facing her, and a circle +of grinning children's faces as a background. + +Tim had the face of a cherub, if we can conceive a cherub with an +habitual grime on his countenance. Curly yellow hair, innocent blue +eyes, for ever twinkling, a dimple in each cheek; add to these a +dilapidated suit of clothes, and a sorely battered hat, and you have Tim +O'Neill, the scourge of Grey Town. + +"You will confess now, Tim O'Neill," said Molly Healy, with an assumed +severity. + +"It's to the Father I'll be confessing," replied the boy. + +"No, Tim; it's to me. The Father is too gentle, and you know it. Didn't +I see you with my own eyes?" + +"Where's the need of me telling you, then?" asked the unabashed Tim, +careful the while to keep beyond the reach of her hands. + +At this retort the audience giggled. They admired the audacity of Tim, +although most of them were model children. For, as his distracted mother +often said, in excuse of her own leniency, "Tim has such a way with +him. You couldn't help but smile, even when he is at his wickedest." + +"I saw you stealing the apples," cried Molly, disregarding his +rejoinder. "Do you know that it's a big sin to steal the priest's +apples? It's"--she hesitated for a moment, anxious to leave a lasting +impression--"it's sacrilege." + +The corners of Tim's mouth dropped, and his face became grave. + +"Is it, miss?" he asked soberly. + +"Now, listen to me, Tim, and I will teach you logic. Of course you know +what logic is?" + +"Is it a pain here?" asked Tim, pointing to the region below his +waistcoat, the twinkle returning to his eye. Molly sternly repressed a +tendency to giggle. + +"No, logic is the art of reasoning," she replied, gravely. "Is that the +presbytery, Tim?" + +"What else?" asked Tim, scornfully. + +"And to whom does it belong?" + +"To the Father, to be sure." + +"No, Tim; you are wrong." + +Mrs. Gorman hailed the group from the kitchen door. + +"Is Miss Molly there? Then send her to her dinner." + +"I am busy, teaching logic. Sure the dinner can wait," replied Molly. +"Now, Tim, and whose is it?" + +"Is it the bishop's, Miss?" + +"Wrong again. It belongs to the Church, and to steal from the Church is +sacrilege. That's a big sin for a little boy to carry on his conscience, +Tim O'Neill." + +"It was only for a lark I took them, miss. Joe Adams there dared me to +do it." And, his face brightening at the thought, "I have them in my +pocket." + +"Have you tasted them, Tim?" + +"They have been bitten--by someone, miss," replied Tim, feeling in his +pocket as if to assure himself of the fact. + +"Let me see them," said the relentless Molly. + +"There is not much left to see." + +"Was it you that tasted them?" + +"Me and Joe, miss. He was hungry." + +"Then you and Joe will die, Tim," cried the tormentor in a melancholy +voice. + +Tim's face became gloomy, while Joe Adams rubbed his eyes with his +knuckles. + +"No, miss. Don't be saying that," sighed Tim, now thoroughly repentant. + +"Yes, you will--and so will I--and the doctor, too." + +"I really am ashamed of you, Molly. This is persecution of an innocent +boy." + +The big, gaunt man, with deeply-lined face and iron grey moustache, who +had paused to smile at the conversation, feigned an expression of +disapproval as she looked up smilingly into his face. + +"Persecution! For shame, Doctor Marsh, to be making such a suggestion. +It's logic I'm teaching Tim--the apples, Tim, the apples!" + +"They're not apples, miss," replied Tim. + +"What are they, then?" + +"They're cores, miss." + +This reply was greeted with a shout of laughter, often repeated as Tim +produced the remains of four apples, one by one. + +"There you are, doctor. Now, what would you do to Tim," asked Molly. + +"Tell him to take what he wants and change him from a criminal to a +law-abiding citizen." + +"There you are, Tim. Do you see the doctor's watch--it's a fine gold +repeater. Take it, if you are wanting a watch!" + +Tim riveted his eyes on the doctor's watch-chain, and the latter put +his fingers on it to assure himself of its safety. + +"Run away, Tim, and don't be stealing again," he cried. "And you come +inside with me, Molly, and eat your dinner. It will do you more good +than a ton of logic. I have business with Father Healy." + +The children scattered in all directions, saving for a group around Tim +O'Neill. To these he related an amended version of the late +conversation. + +"'D'you know what sacrilege is?' says she. + +"'Sacrilege!' says I, scratching my head. 'Will it be telling lies?' + +"'It may be, and it may not be,' says she. + +"'Then I think it is sacrilege you're after, yourself. To be telling +lies with a brother a priest is sacrilege, sure enough.' + +"With that she wiped her eyes with the back of one hand. I think it's +shamed she is." A burst of laughter rewarded the young sinner, and he +darted off for home to gobble down a cold dinner. + +"Is Michael O'Connor worse?" asked Molly, anxiously. + +"He is dying," replied the doctor. + +"What will Kathleen and Desmond do?" + +"Desmond can battle for himself, but Kathleen's future needs +consideration." + +"Why not go to the Quirks, at Layton?" + +"I would not allow Kathleen O'Connor to go to everybody. I must discuss +the matter with Father Healy," replied Doctor Marsh. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +MICHAEL O'CONNOR. + + +Michael O'Connor died placidly, as he had always lived. An improvident +man, as the world uses the term, he undoubtedly had been, but this arose +from a defect of character. He never could refuse to give when asked to +do so; his failing sprang from an excess of generosity. + +A clever man, brilliant in his own chosen career of journalism, +opportunities to make money had not been wanting; and money had been +made and spent. He had founded "The Grey Town Observer," now a valuable +property, but the paper had passed into the hands of Ebenezer Brown, +with Michael O'Connor as editor; for Ebenezer Brown recognised that no +other man could better fill the position. But the proprietor was careful +to make the utmost of his employee's lack of worldly wisdom, offering +him the very lowest salary that ever an editor worked for. The +consequence was that Michael O'Connor lived and died an impecunious man, +whose only legacy to his children was the record of a virtuous life. + +Yet no fear had troubled the man as life slowly slipped from him. He had +wronged none: to the poor he had given generously; staunch to his +friends, loved by his children, and always faithful to his religion, why +should he have any regrets? "Father," he said to Father Healy, "I am not +afraid to die, for God is good; He will provide for Kathleen and +Desmond, as He has provided for me, always a child. Father, always a +child, as my father told me I would be." + +"Just a child," said Father Healy, as he looked at the peaceful face of +the dear friend, "as innocent and helpless as a child. God will reward +him for what he has done for others." + +Death was very near Michael O'Connor at that moment; it hovered over his +bed, waiting every moment with thin, outstretched hands to snatch him +away. On his bed he lay, his face waxen in colour and emaciated, while +the white hands clasped the crucifix. Yet even then one might realise +that the dying man had at one time been called "handsome Mike O'Connor." +In the prime of his manhood--tall, broad-shouldered, and always +cheerful--no other man in the district could look anything but +insignificant beside him. But many a one from among the Irish farmers +knew that he came of a line always noted for beauty. Men and women, the +O'Connors had rarely failed in good looks, and as rarely succeeded in +keeping their money. The dying man was, after all, the inheritor of his +ancestors' virtues and failings. + +The candles were lighted by the bedside. Father Healy, with Kathleen and +Desmond, knelt on the floor reciting the prayers for the dying. The +children were crying, Kathleen impulsively and without restraint, +Desmond secretively, as men are accustomed to weep. The sick man's +breathing came more slowly and weakly, his lips framed an occasional act +of contrition which he was too feeble to utter. When the end came, it +was a gentle transition from life to death. Through it all the old clock +on the bedroom mantelpiece, dark-stained, and of a quaint design, ticked +on as it had done ever since Desmond could remember. Symbolic it seemed +of the world, that heeds not death; but moves, always onwards, replacing +each one as he dies. + +They clothed him in the brown habit, and placed him in the coffin, with +the crucifix on his breast. There his many friends came to pray for +him--men, women, little children, among them the good nuns, to whom he +had always been a benefactor. It may safely be said that Michael +O'Connor had not left one enemy behind him. If his life had been +something of a failure, the man's death was a complete success. + +But there were the children to think of, Kathleen and Desmond, +inheritors of his good looks, but of nothing beyond that. Left young in +the hands of a careless, happy-go-lucky father, who had always +religiously applied the text of Scripture, "Sufficient unto the day is +the evil thereof," what were they to do for themselves? Desmond could +draw and paint; he had the usual smattering of knowledge to be obtained +in an ordinary school. Beyond these accomplishments and his father's +gift for writing, the big, handsome, curly-haired fellow, half man and +half boy, had nothing wherewith to fight the world. + +"Writing for him, I suppose?" suggested Father Healy, as he and Dr. +Marsh drove out in the doctor's gig to interview the O'Connors. + +Dr. Marsh grunted, as was his way. He never had paid much attention to +Desmond O'Connor. His opinion of the boy was that a battle with the +world would do him nothing but good. + +"Whatever he can get. If he does that well, he may begin to pick and +choose," he said. "But Kathleen needs consideration." + +Kathleen O'Connor was undoubtedly the doctor's favourite. She was such a +sweet girl, beautiful in face, gentle in her manners. In her black dress +she had looked so fragile and broken with grief on the day of her +father's funeral. Vainly trying to maintain composure, yet shaken +constantly by an involuntary sob, she had marvellously affected the +tough old doctor, to whom female beauty appealed, although he affected +to scorn it. + +"The girl is beautiful," he said, "and it's a dangerous gift with +weakness." + +"The O'Connors always were beautiful," replied Father Healy. "Michael's +father was the finest man in Ireland. They were born to be kings, and +spent their money as if they had been emperors, while the money lasted. +The boy is as grand as the girl, and I am fearful for him." + +"Oh, there is good and bad in the boy, as there is in every man of us." + +He and the priest were sworn friends and allies, although they argued on +every question that ever arose local or general--the doctor because he +liked it, and Father Healy to humour a friend. At the gate of "Avoca," +as Michael O'Connor had called his house, the doctor reined his horse +in, and the two men scanned the dilapidated gate and unpainted fence, +part of the general decay of what had been a pleasant villa and garden +in the good days. + +"It's like poor Michael," sighed the priest. "He only troubled himself +about one thing, his soul. Well! that's saved, please God." + +"Hem!" grunted the doctor, "that won't help Kathleen." + +"It's a consolation to her, and always will be. To have had a good +father is of as much value as a fortune," replied the priest. + +"From your point of view, perhaps. There is only one thing you people +value--the soul. The poor body may look after itself, and often gets +more kicks than ha'pence." + +The priest smiled significantly. + +"You flatter us," he said. + +"Rubbish!" replied the doctor. "Why don't you look after yourself; +aren't you of more value than the people you are killing yourself for?" + +Father Healy laughed, for he was a stout, rubicund man. + +"I wonder whether you or I look the better nourished," he asked, +surveying the doctor's attenuated form. + +"Some day you will drop down dead," replied the other. + +"Death comes to all sooner or later," said his companion. + +"Avoca" had at one time been a fine property; now over everything lay +the mark of decay. A broad drive, covered with grass and weed; the +remains of beds, where thistles and docks were destroying the flowers +and lawns, knee-deep in the over-growth. + +"And mortgaged for more than its value," sighed the priest. + +"Do you approve of this?" asked Dr. Marsh, with a comprehensive wave of +the hand. + +"I do not. But better this than order and iniquity. I would like the +property neat, tidy and unencumbered, with a fortune in the bank for +Kathleen. But," Father Healy added with a sigh, "one can't have +everything exactly as he wishes." + +"It is the fault of your system," growled the doctor; "you are too +strong on Eternity." + +"I could not be too strong on that. But I always preach prudence and +thrift." + +"Bah! The presbytery is a sanctuary for all the loafers in Grey Town." + +"You had better discuss that with Molly. She is almsgiver at the +presbytery. But she tells me," the priest continued, with a twinkle in +his eye, "that she doles out the food and money prudently, and lectures +once a week on the virtues of total abstinence and hard work." + +Even the doctor could not refrain from a dry chuckle at this aspect of +Molly Healy's almsgiving. + +"Then the lectures are as fruitless as your sermons," he said. "If +Michael O'Connor had copied Joe Sheahan----." + +"Ah, there you are! Didn't I teach Joe worldly prudence myself?" cried +the priest, hastily. "I am proud of Joe, a good honest man, for all his +money." + +They drew up in front of the house, and Desmond came running down the +steps to take the doctor's horse. He was a big, bright-faced fellow, +though he still bore the marks of the recent sorrow in the black band on +his arm. + +"Let me take the mare to the stable," he said. + +Priest and doctor slowly descended from the gig and entered the house +side by side, noting that here, too, were signs of decay and of neglect. + +Kathleen emerged from the dining-room to greet them. In her face she +still bore traces of recent tears, for she was a woman, and grief was +not so easily forgotten by her as by her brother. + +"Mr. Brown is waiting for you in the dining-room," she said, after the +first greetings. + +"Ebenezer Brown?" said the doctor, as if to turn back. "What brings him +here?" + +"Just the same errand as yours," cried a harsh voice from the +dining-room. "To mourn over the man you killed." + +A dry cackle followed the speech. But no one heeded what Ebenezer Brown +said, so notorious was he in the town for a love of money and a bitter +tongue. The doctor accepted the speech as a challenge, and entered the +room defiantly, while Father Healy followed him. + +"You didn't expect to find me here," said the old man, who sat in an +armchair, a thin, stooped figure, with a pallid face and white hair. + +"We did not," replied the priest. + +The doctor murmured something about vultures and the dead. + +"Eh?" asked the old man, feigning a convenient deafness, "I might expect +you and the priest; the one generally prepares the way for the other." + +"I am expecting it will be a difficult meeting," murmured the priest. + +Dr. Marsh, however, made no reply to the remark. He was awaiting a +convenient time to lunge at his enemy, and he sat down opposite Ebenezer +Brown, regarding him critically. After a moment's pause, he asked: + +"Are your affairs in order, Brown?" + +"Mind your own business, sub-dividing men into small allotments," +snapped the other. + +"I should arrange everything if I were you. Your money won't buy you a +passport," said the doctor. "Increase your subscription to the hospital +from threepence to sixpence, and lower your rents to twice what they +should be, before it is too late. Your time will come before long." + +"You won't get a penny of my money, living or dead," replied Ebenezer +Brown. + +"That shows you have a little wisdom remaining, for I would poison you, +and believe I was performing an act of public utility." + +"Let us get to business," cried the priest, anxious to terminate the +wrangle. "Dr. Marsh and I am here to discuss what is to be done with +Michael O'Connor's children." + +"I am here to help the children," said Ebenezer. "Not with money," he +added hastily, "but with sound advice." + +"The only thing you ever gave away," commented the doctor. + +"Eh? Yes; it is more valuable than money," said Ebenezer, relapsing into +deafness. "Now, Desmond there will have to work. He has been idle too +long." + +To this remark Kathleen replied hastily: + +"My father thought----." + +"You must speak up if you expect me to hear, young lady," growled +Ebenezer. "Your father was improvident." + +"A noble and generous man," replied the doctor, hotly. + +"No doubt you think so. He lined your pockets, I believe." + +Dr. Marsh could stand this no longer. He rose, pale with fury, but +Father Healy gently pushed him back into his seat. + +"Don't be paying attention to the old man," he said. + +The two older men glared at one another across the table; the doctor +growled out "Miser," Ebenezer muttered "Quack." But, fortunately, +Desmond O'Connor entered the room at that moment, and distracted the +attention of the company. + +"Well, Desmond," cried Ebenezer Brown, "I need an office-boy; how would +you like the billet?" + +Desmond paused in the door, his face flushing crimson. He was 18, and to +be termed an office-boy sounded like an insult. Father Healy, noting his +shame and anger, went to the boy and placed a hand kindly on his +shoulder. + +"Take the rungs one by one if you would be at the top, Desmond," he +said. + +"He will be a long time getting there," sneered Ebenezer Brown. + +Father Healy offered no reply. He had not come to quarrel, and where was +the use? But Dr. Marsh answered quickly: + +"You may sneer now, Ebenezer Brown--it is easy to do that--but the day +will come when you will be asking Father Healy to help you, for he is as +certain to be saved as you to be lost." + +This defence came as a surprise to everyone present, perhaps most of all +to the priest. The doctor was accustomed to scold and taunt him; this +unexpected championship almost took his breath away. Ebenezer Brown was +too greatly annoyed even to retort, but he glanced vindictively at the +doctor. + +"And now for Kathleen. Mrs. Quirk would like to have her at Layton as a +companion and friend," said the priest. + +"Friend!" grunted the doctor. "Quirk was a grocer." + +"And where is the harm in that?" asked Father Healy, "if he were +honest?" + +"Honest?" commented Ebenezer Brown. "There never was an honest grocer; +they all put sand in their sugar, and sell their second-rate goods as +the best quality. I know them." + +"Set a thief to catch a thief," cried the doctor. "How did you make your +money?" + +"Honestly! Not as you did, by poisoning your rich patients after they +have left you a legacy," replied Ebenezer Brown. + +"Honestly! You caught poor Harris drunk, and swindled him out of his +land," retorted Dr. Marsh. + +"Peace! Peace!" sighed Father Healy, attempting to take the doctor away +by force. + +"And you murdered Mat Devlin, as you've murdered a host of others," +cried Ebenezer Brown. + +Dr. Marsh broke from his friend's arm and went round the table where +Ebenezer Brown sat. Shaking his fist in the old man's face, he cried: + +"If I had one per cent. of your sins on my shoulders, I would never +sleep again. I am tempted to give you the little blow that would be the +end of you; but I don't like to rob you of your small hope of +repentance." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE QUIRKS. + + +A splendid house, extravagantly furnished, green lawns, gardens bright +in colours, and rich pasture lands around. Inside the house a crotchety +old man and a lonely woman. Such was Kathleen O'Connor's new home at +"Layton." + +The name, "Samuel Quirk, Grocer," had reposed over the front of a small +shop in a small street of Collingwood for many years. The grocer was +known to the district as a shrewd tradesman on a small scale, and a keen +politician. He had a limited connection with certain well-tried +customers, and a number of irregular clients who came and went. In the +neighbourhood where he lived, the grocer must assuredly have gone under +had he not conducted a cash business. As it was, he kept his head above +water and lived a quiet life, respected by his neighbours. + +One day the postman brought a letter that completely altered the Quirks' +scheme of life. It came from Boston, bringing news of a brother's death, +and the gift of a great fortune to the Quirks. Such an unexpected event +brought confusion into the orderly life of the old people. + +"What shall we do with all the money?" the grocer asked his wife. + +She was sitting over her knitting at the time, for her nimble fingers +were seldom idle. + +"Why not ask Father Healy?" she answered at once; for Father Healy was +her one idea of wisdom. Years ago the priest had been a curate in +Collingwood, and had there entwined himself about many hearts, Mrs. +Quirk's among the number. Even now she wrote to him when her heart was +troubled. + +"Father Healy! And why ask him?" replied the old man. + +He always began by disputing his wife's suggestions, but generally ended +by putting them into practice. + +"He is the good, wise man," replied Mrs. Quirk. "Did he ever tell me +anything I should do that was not the only thing to do?" + +Samuel Quirk grunted disbelievingly. "Oh, he's right enough for the +soul, but what would Father Healy know about the body?" he asked. + +Mrs. Quirk having placed the yeast in his mind, left it to ferment. She +well knew that in a few days' time a letter would be despatched to the +Presbytery at Grey Town. And this happened as she anticipated. In due +course, too, the answer came back to them. + +"Why not buy 'Layton' and settle down on the land? It will give you +something to do, and lengthen your own and Mrs. Quirk's life," the +priest wrote. + +Samuel Quirk read the letter to his wife, commenting unfavourably on it +the while. + +"Buy a farm? What would I be doing on a farm?" he asked. + +"Why not go down to Grey Town and see the place for yourself?" suggested +Mrs. Quirk. + +After a prolonged argument, the old man again accepted her advice. It +was something of an adventure to him to journey so far by train, and to +spend a night away from home. But it was far worse for the old woman, +as he always termed her, to be alone in the shop for thirty-six hours. +She missed her husband's rough voice, the heavy shuffling tread, above +all the rare endearments that she valued for their infrequency. When +Samuel Quirk returned he was received as if his absence had lasted +twelve months. + +"Well? Are we to go?" she asked. + +"It's done. The place is bought and sold, and it's mine--and yours," he +answered. + +"Is it a grand place?" she questioned. + +"It's as grand as the Governor's house," replied the old man. "I +couldn't count the rooms, and the gardens are amazing." + +A sigh came from her lips as she cast her eyes around the small +sitting-room where every object was familiar. + +"Can we take our things with us?" she asked. + +"Take these!" he replied scornfully. "I've bought furniture, cows and +horses, everything. What would we do with these?" + +He was a man, and she a woman, whose heart was devoted to these old +familiar, useful friends. A few of them she took with her, and placed in +her own room at the new home, among them the old cane chair where her +husband had sat, night after night, to smoke his pipe. + +In the new home, Samuel Quirk soon found work and pleasure in +supervising the employees. Of agriculture and horticulture he knew +nothing, but he gathered knowledge speedily as he stood over his +workers. He bore the transplanting well, and throve in the new soil, +while Mrs. Quirk was lonely and sad. There were none of her old cronies +with whom to discuss small gossip over the counter or in the back room +behind the shop. She missed the noise of the great city; the house was +so large that it frightened her. When Kathleen O'Connor came, the old +woman put her arm lovingly around her and said: + +"Sure you will be coming to stay, Honey?" + +"I hope so," replied the girl. + +"Now, don't be calling me Mrs. Quirk; just call me Granny, as all the +girls did in Melbourne. It was: 'How are ye, Granny?' and 'How are the +rheumatics, Granny?' I miss the bright girls now." + +Kathleen realised that here was a lonely soul, and found all the +expected strangeness in the new life vanish from her. + +She set herself to the purpose of making Mrs. Quirk happy, devising a +hundred means to accomplish this. In the house she interested the old +lady in reading, with fancy work, and, above all, with the artistic +arrangement of the rooms. + +"There is no reason why things should not be pretty," she said. "Let us +begin with your own room, and gradually transform the house. It is so +ugly now." + +"Ugly!" cried Mrs. Quirk; "to my mind it's grand--far too grand for a +plain woman like me. But you're an O'Connor, Honey, and 'tis natural you +would know more about these things than me. Didn't I know your +grandmother? Didn't I work for her myself? But don't be telling the old +man I told you. It is strange having you in my house." + +Kathleen turned the conversation into another channel. But she could not +help reflecting upon the vicissitudes of life. A few years ago and Mrs. +Quirk was a servant in her grand-parents' house; now she, by a quick +reversal of the wheel of fortune, found herself practically a servant to +Mrs. Quirk. + +But her employer never permitted such a thought to enter her own mind; +it seemed almost as unthinkable as a heresy against her Faith. + +"You are my friend," she told the girl; "though it is hard even to call +you that. Look at my hands and yours; mine that have scrubbed the floor +and been in the wash-tub, and yours that were just made to look at." + +Kathleen took one of the old lady's hands and kissed it. + +"And which are the better in the sight of God?" she asked; "the ones +that have done the work they were made to do, or those that are merely +objects of vanity? But I have worked with mine, too; scrubbed and +washed, like you." + +"Tis a wicked fate that made you have to do it; more shame to me for +calling what is done by Providence wicked. But it's a strange world, +Kathleen, this one; no one seems to be in their proper place. There's +Father Healy, him that should be a Bishop, still a priest." + +"Why not a Cardinal, or the Holy Father himself?" laughed Kathleen. + +"And why not? It's a wise Pope the Father would make," answered Mrs. +Quirk. "Not that I am finding any fault with the Holy Father," she added +quickly; "he is a great man, the greatest in the whole world, and the +wisest." + +Kathleen O'Connor exercised a remarkable influence on the old lady. Mrs. +Quirk had needed a companion, and an interest in her new life; these she +found in Kathleen. Together they slowly transformed the house, Samuel +Quirk grumbling and protesting at each innovation, while he aided them +the while with his purse. In a phaeton drawn by a quiet old pony, they +travelled about the district, never missing a daily visit to the +Catholic Church. + +"I go out to visit my friends. Shall I miss calling on the best Friend +ever I had?" Mrs. Quirk asked Kathleen. "In Collingwood I never missed +the morning Mass, nor the afternoon visit. Here it is too far to go to +Mass every day, but the Good Lord would miss me if I did not come once +in the day to see Him." + +"If I am not good, it will not be your fault," laughed Kathleen. + +"It will be nobody's fault but your own; but you couldn't help being +good. Didn't Father Healy tell me----." + +"Hush!" cried Kathleen; "you must not give Father Healy's secrets away." + +At the church gates they held a daily conference with Molly Healy. She +had interested Mrs. Quirk in her gamins, and was accustomed to draw upon +the old lady's purse when the Presbytery funds were low, or Father +Healy obdurate to her appeals. + +Molly Healy acted as sacristan in the church, and Father Healy was +accustomed to say: + +"If you attended to everything as you do to the Altar, you would be a +treasure to the husband that came seeking you." + +"It's not many are doing that," replied the girl. "I could not count +them on my fingers--because, even I can't count what does not exist." + +"How many would you be expecting at eighteen? You are but a child," he +answered. "Well, the Altar is a credit to you. You make the brass shine +as if it were gold." + +"Gold it would be, if I had my way, and the glass precious stones. But I +do the best with what there is," replied Molly. + +She dearly loved to hear a word of praise in return for her labours. +This Kathleen knew well, and she encouraged Mrs. Quirk to admire the +flowers and other decorations. The old lady readily did this, for she +was typically Irish in finding it far easier to give a generous measure +of encouragement than to blame the actions of another. + +"It is you, Molly," she would say--at first, until corrected by the +girl, it had been Miss Molly--"that can put the flowers in their proper +places! It is a pleasure to come into the church and find the altar so +beautiful. Those carnations, now, they remind me of Heaven." + +"It is dahlias they are, Mrs. Quirk," Molly would reply; "and out of +your own garden." + +"Is it dahlias? Well, I am getting a little blind, Molly; but the +beauty is there, whatever the flowers may be." + +Thus encouraged, Molly would speak of her proteges. + +"Joe McCarthy told me the same, and he thinks more praise is due to you +than me. You send me the flowers every day." + +"And why not? What better use for them? But which is Joe McCarthy?" Mrs. +Quirk might answer. + +"Don't you know Joe? Such a good boy, but unfortunate. He was with +Regan, driving the cart, when the horse ran away and broke himself and +the cart into small pieces. It was a mercy Joe was not in the cart," +Molly would continue. + +"Poor lad! And that was a misfortune. Is he badly hurt?" Mrs. Quirk +would ask. + +"Not hurt in his body, but dispirited. Regan discharged him without a +character. I went to him myself; it's a surly man he is. 'Why not give +the boy a testimonial?' I asked. 'It's the whip I will give him,' he +answered. That was all I got from Regan." + +"And why was the man so heartless?" asked Mrs. Quirk. + +"After all, Regan lost his horse and cart. You can scarcely blame him," +Kathleen would explain. + +"And hasn't he plenty of money to buy another? I have no patience with +Regan. And there is Joe, with a mother depending on him, out of work, +and with no testimonial to help him to another," Molly would reply. + +The result would be a few shillings from the old lady's purse, which +Joe would probably spend on "a good thing," that would just fail to +secure a race, as "good things" so often do. But Molly Healy was never +discouraged by such trifles as these. + +"What did you do with the money, Joe?" she would ask. + +"It was Harry Price told me to invest it on Blue Peter." + +"I told you to take it home to your mother. Shame on you, Joe, to be +wasting her food on horses." + +"It was like this. 'Would you be making a fortune?' Harry asked me. And +who wouldn't, Miss Molly, not you nor I. 'Blue Peter is a cert,' said +he; 'my brother Bill will be riding.' Could you resist that?" + +"Hem!" Molly would reply; "and did he win?" + +"If his neck had been as long as Smoker's he would have won," Joe would +explain. + +After a few days he would return to favour, and continue a pensioner +until he found work for a short time. But ill-luck ever dogged Joe's +footsteps, and his periods of work were ever briefer and briefer, until +he threatened to relapse into chronic idleness. Then, to her own +surprise, and that of all who knew her, Molly suddenly compelled Joe to +reform. + +"I have a place for you, Joe, and the last you will ever be getting," +she said. "It's a disgrace to me you are, and everyone saying I have +spoiled you. Mr. Quirk will take you on, and he is a slave-driver. He +stands over his men with a whip. It was hard work I had to get you the +place--milking the cows, and helping in the garden. But I told the man +you were a hard worker. If you don't work hard, Joe, it is the whip I +will give you with my own hands." + +Whether it was this threat, a fear of Mr. Quirk, or the effects of the +mission cannot be clearly said, but Joe McCarthy clung to his work until +he eventually became overseer at "Layton." With his change in habits, +Joe also acquired a self-respect that led him to dress neatly, and to +sign the pledge. Thenceforward Molly Healy quoted him as the proof of +her powers as a reformer when taunted because of the rabble over whom +she reigned. + +"There was Joe McCarthy, that would not work until I persuaded him," she +would say. "Leave the boys to me; I am correcting them." + +Yet only Mrs. Quirk had absolute confidence in the girl's vocation as a +reformer. The old lady was never told of a good-for-nothing son or +husband but she would cry: + +"Send him to Molly Healy. If there is any good in him, Molly will bring +it out." + +Her hearers, knowing of Molly's long succession of failures, naturally +smiled at these commendations. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +PROMOTION. + + +"You can run round to the meeting in the Town Hall to-night and see what +sort of a fist you make of it," said Cairns, the man who now sat in the +editorial chair of "The Grey Town Observer," to Desmond O'Connor, just +one month after the young man had been admitted to the office. + +"Thank you, sir," said Desmond, springing to his feet in his excitement. + +"It's a chance," said the editor. "Don't be too diffuse, but see that +you miss nothing. What is that paper in front of you?" He took the paper +from Desmond O'Connor's hands and held it at arm's length, while a +sardonic smile held possession of his face. + +"Shall I let the old man see it?" he asked. "Mr. Brown would like to see +himself as you see him, under the title of 'Old Eb.' By the way, if you +could catch Martin smiling to-night, and Langridge in tears, it would +help your report. You appear to bring out the salient features of a +handsome face, even if you accentuate them. Martin's teeth and +Langridge's nose are striking objects. Let us have them for to-morrow." + +Desmond returned to his type-writing with a sigh of satisfaction. In +this meeting he saw a road to promotion. + +Meeting Molly Healy on his way to luncheon, he paused to make her sharer +in his good fortune, for Molly and he had always been good comrades. + +Molly was in a tearing hurry at that moment. One of her dogs had +strayed, and she was beating the town to find him; but she paused to +listen to his tale. + +"Going to the meeting! Is it to speak?" she asked. + +"No," he replied contemptuously, "to report what the beggars say." + +"Just to write down the words of a lot of windbags. That's nothing! If I +were Ebenezer Brown, you would be in Mr. Cairns' place. But, good luck +to you, Desmond. I will set all the old women praying for you. Some day +you will be owning a paper yourself, if I can help you." + +"Thank you, Molly," he cried. + +The girl cast a wistful glance after him as he left her, for no one +admired Desmond O'Connor more than she. But the vision of a black dog +vanishing around a distant corner caused her to start in a hurried +pursuit. Round the corner she ran, straight into the arms of Constable +McSherry, who was coming sedately along the footpath in an opposite +direction to her own. + +"What would my wife say if she saw this?" he asked, as she cannoned into +him; "a young lady running into my arms?" + +"Don't be talking nonsense," she replied, laughingly. "Did you see a +dog?" + +"It's nothing but dogs," he answered. "Which was the one you were +after?" + +"A black-and-tan collie with a blue-ribbon round his neck, and a saucy +look on his face." + +"A blue ribbon around his neck? It wouldn't be the one I saw going into +the public-house, then?" + +The constable paused to consider, while Molly suddenly whirled down the +street and pounced on the errant collie. Seeing this, Constable McSherry +turned to continue his leisurely course of inspection. + +As Desmond returned from his hurried meal, he again met Molly, towing +her unwilling captive home. She signalled to Desmond to stop. + +"I have been thinking that you might take me to the meeting," she said. + +Desmond shook his head. + +"Not to-night, Molly. You would have me laughing all the time. There's a +circus coming next week; will you come to that?" + +"Do you think I am never serious?" the girl asked. "I would not so much +as smile." + +"It can't be done, Molly. I shall be sitting at a table writing for all +I am worth." + +"Then I will sit just behind you and torment you all the while," she +remarked vindictively. + +And such was her purpose when she induced Dr. Marsh to accompany her to +the Town Hall that evening. + +"You don't know what you are doing!" he protested. "I shall go to sleep, +I know. Did you ever hear me snore? They tell me it's like the grunt of +a boar when he is hungry after a seven days' fast." + +"Let me hear you do it now!" she laughed. "I am going there to-night +just to tease Desmond O'Connor. He refused to take me." + +"What is Desmond doing there?" asked the doctor. + +"Taking notes of the speeches. It won't be many notes he will take +to-night," she answered. + +"For shame, Molly. This is the boy's chance of promotion. If I take you, +we shall sit at the back of the hall." + +"Among the boys?" asked Molly. "Then you shall take me to enjoy the fun. +I'll ignore Desmond to-night; but I will be even with him for this." + +A political meeting, with two picked speakers to leaven a number of dull +and uninteresting harangues. It was not a very exciting entertainment. +But there were "the boys," vociferous, intolerant, sometimes amusing, to +enliven proceedings for Molly; while Desmond snatched up the salient +features in shorthand and with pencil. Samuel Quirk was a keen +politician, and he had transferred the scope of his energy from +Collingwood to Grey Town. Unlike many men, he had not changed his +politics with the change in his fortunes. He it was who had organised +the opposition. At his word a storm of protest, a roar of ironical +laughter, or a volley of interjections harassed the speakers on the +platform. And it was Samuel Quirk who asked the first questions at the +close of the meeting. Straightway Desmond transferred the old man to his +note-book, to appear on the following morning as "The Interjector in +Chief," in company with Martin and Langridge. + +"You have scored a bullseye," cried Cairns, when he had read Desmond's +report, and had glanced at the sketches. "You are promoted to the +reporting staff. Keep your observant faculties keen and your pencil +sharp, my boy, and we will make the old "Observer" boom." + +Samuel Quirk smiled when he saw himself in the morning's paper. + +"See here, old woman, what they have been doing to me!" he cried, as he +banged "The Observer" down in front of his wife at breakfast. + +With trembling hands, she adjusted her glasses, fully anticipating that +her husband had been sentenced to some heavy penalty for his political +creed. But when she saw him on the front sheet of the paper, with the +bellicose features of his face exaggerated, Mrs. Quirk was moved to +anger. + +"And who has been doing this?" she asked. "It is time something should +be done to put an end to this. It is an outrage----. Does he call +himself an artist?" she questioned, after studying the picture. + +"I think it's a very fine picture; perhaps the nose is a little large, +and the mouth, too. But it's quite a pleasant picture," said Samuel +Quirk complacently. + +"If I knew the man that had done it, sure I would make it quite +unpleasant for him," said Mrs. Quirk. + +"'Tis a sign of fame to be made a sketch of," said Samuel Quirk. "They +know that I have organised the boys, and this is the way they try to +have revenge." + +Therewith he went out to talk politics to his employes while he watched +them at work. + +"'Tis but eight hours you will do, lads, but it will be an honest eight +hours' work you will give me for the decent wages I pay you," he was +accustomed to say. + +Kathleen O'Connor recognised Desmond's hand in the sketch when Mrs. +Quirk showed it to her. She, however, considered it prudent not to +mention the artist's name, for she could see that Mrs. Quirk was deeply +hurt at what she regarded as an insult to the old man. Fortunately, +however, an event occurred during the day that entirely diverted Mrs. +Quirk's attention from the picture of her husband. + +It was one of Kathleen's duties to read to Mrs. Quirk the few letters +that came for her. + +"My sight is leaving me," the old lady remarked in excuse for her lack +of education, "and these spectacles don't appear to improve it." + +Therefore, Kathleen opened a letter, addressed in a man's bold +handwriting to "Mrs. Quirk, 26 Rainey-street, Collingwood," and +forwarded from that address. It had come from the United States, and had +evidently been delayed in transit, for the letter was dated three months +before it was received. + +"My dearest old mother," Kathleen began to read. + +"It's from Denis!" cried Mrs. Quirk. "Denis, that I believed was dead! +Call Mr. Quirk, my dear! Oh, this is too much joy! God is good, far too +good, to an undeserving old woman like me." + +Kathleen went out into the gardens and found Mr. Quirk, spade in hand, +busily instructing a raw recruit how to work. + +"There's no art in it," he remarked contemptuously. "'Tis merely a +matter of muscle. You won't do for me!" + +"Mrs. Quirk wants you in the dining-room," said Kathleen. + +"Wants me? And what for?" he asked. + +"She has a letter from your son." + +Mr. Quirk laughed contemptuously. But he paused in his work to reply. + +"My only son is dead these ten years. Is she mad?" + +"No, she is not," replied the girl indignantly. "I opened the letter +myself, and it is from your son." + +"I will come and see it. It is probably some idle vagabond that is +playing a trick on her," growled Samuel Quirk. "Here," he cried to the +labourer, "take the spade, and let me see what you can do." + +Kathleen was always annoyed by the old man's assumed contempt for his +wife. Samuel Quirk recognised the fact, and was secretly amused at it. +He feigned a greater intolerance and disrespect before the girl, just to +increase her indignation. Now, as she moved away, the picture of +resentment, he called out: + +"Tell her I am coming to expose the scamp. She is too soft. Every idle +fellow makes use of her." + +Kathleen found the old lady holding the opened letter upside down, +vainly attempting to decipher the writing, while the tears of joy +dropped from her eyes upon the pages. + +"Mr. Quirk does not believe it is from your son," said Kathleen. + +"Who but Denis would call me mother?" she asked. "But himself was just +saying that to annoy you; don't be taking too much notice of him. Read +it, dearie. Let me hear my boy speaking to me again." + +"I have prospered and made a fortune in America. I am coming home to +look after you and the father. Prepare to pack up and come with me to a +better home than the old one in Collingwood. I have been wanting all +these years to have the old mother, who sacrificed herself for me, +beside me." + +"And why not sacrifice myself for him? Wasn't he my only child? And a +dear boy--and good. Didn't my heart all but break with joy when I first +saw him serving the good priest's Mass! It was Father Healy's himself, +no less. Does he say anything about the Faith?" asked Mrs. Quirk. + +"I shall buy a fine home, with the church not half a mile away. You can +make the church your second home, as you did in Collingwood," read +Kathleen. + +Samuel Quirk marched relentlessly into the room, his face showing the +most determined incredulity it could assume. + +"Let me see the letter," he said, calmly taking it from Kathleen. + +"Could Denis write like this?" he asked. + +"And who better?" cried Mrs. Quirk. "Wasn't he the smartest boy at +school? Do you remember the day he won all those prizes?" + +A smile of pride overspread the old man's face for one moment, then he +remorselessly subdued it. + +"I am thinking it is some scamp that has heard how soft you are," he +remarked, as he read the letter. "Hem! I wonder how much money that +will be? And when will he be here?" + +As if in answer to his question, the sound of wheels was heard on the +avenue. Mrs. Quirk flew to the window, while the old man followed more +sedately. + +"It is himself!" cried Mrs. Quirk. "Let me be the first to bid him +welcome." + +She almost ran to the front door in her excitement, to find the strong +arms of a man around her. + +"Glory be to God! And is it Denis?" she sobbed. + +"Who else would it be?" answered the newcomer. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +DENIS QUIRK. + + +Cairns was compounded of energy, his policy to snatch from the hands of +progress all that was good, and make the uttermost use of it. "Try all +things," he would say. "Throw away the rubbish, and keep that which is +enduring." Under his management, "The Observer" advanced from a +second-class country paper to one but little inferior to the +metropolitan organs. + +One man whom he found on the staff he classified as hopeless. + +"Worse than this," he added, speaking to Desmond O'Connor, to whom he +unburdened himself, "'Gifford will never learn. He believes himself to +be a journalistic planet. I don't mind an ordinary honest fool that +knows it is a fool, but a fool that regards its own inane folly as the +final thing in wisdom is hopeless. Gifford must go." + +Here, however, Cairns found himself opposed to his employer. Ebenezer +Brown had so high a respect for Gifford that he had been sorely tempted, +after the death of Michael O'Connor, to place the sub-editor in the +editorial chair. For this promotion Gifford was fully prepared, and only +a very small incident preserved Ebenezer Brown from ruining his paper. +It had so chanced that the editor of a leading metropolitan paper had +come to the funeral of his former colleague, Michael O'Connor. Meeting +Ebenezer Brown after the funeral, he had asked: + +"Who will succeed O'Connor?" + +"I am thinking of promoting Gifford," replied the old man. + +"Gifford!" cried the editor, under whom many a journalist had graduated. +"Are you quite mad?" + +"Are you?" retorted Ebenezer Brown, hotly. + +'Many people say I am. But I was sane enough to shoot Gifford out the +first chance I had of ridding the paper of him. + +"You sent him to me with a yard of testimonial," growled Ebenezer Brown. + +"Diplomacy, my dear sir. I never make an enemy unless I find myself +compelled to do so in self-defence. You needed a new sub-editor, I a new +reporter, and I merely shuffled the cards and dealt them again. In your +case Gifford seems to have proved a success." + +"How do you know that?" asked the old man, rudely. + +"You are anxious to promote him." + +"On your recommendation. 'A brilliant journalist' you called him," cried +Ebenezer Brown. + +"And he has been with you six months. Surely you know him by this time?" + +"Perhaps you know a better," suggested the old man. + +"I know few worse, and I know one man the very man for 'The Observer'; +but I doubt if he will come to you," said the editor. + +"Why not?" asked Ebenezer Brown. + +"Because you sweat your employes. No man but O'Connor would have worked +as editor for the pittance you paid him. Cairns certainly will require a +fair salary and a free hand before he gives 'The Observer' a chance." + +Ebenezer Brown recognised the truth of what the editor said. His chief +regret was that Michael O'Connor had not lived for ever. However, after +prolonged negotiations, he accepted Cairns on the latter's own terms. + +It was another matter, however, when the editor demanded a more capable +lieutenant than Gifford. Here he found Ebenezer Brown inexorable, for +the sub-editor was linked to him by the triple bonds of flattery, +usefulness, and influence. He made it a rule to regard Ebenezer's every +action as perfection; outside the office he assisted the old man in his +business affairs; and he brought influence to bear in buttressing his +position against the assaults of his chief. The consequence was that he +remained as nominal sub-editor, while Cairns deputed Desmond O'Connor to +do the work. Gifford, recognising the slight, bore his chief and +subordinate no love, but, being unable to injure Cairns, bent himself to +take his revenge from the reporter. + +It was in his power to make his subordinate's life unpleasant, and this +he accomplished to the utmost limit of his capability. But he was not +satisfied with this; his purpose in life was to ruin Desmond. He sowed +the seeds of dislike in Ebenezer Brown's mind--an easy thing to +accomplish when one was so careless as Desmond O'Connor. + +Sketches he left lying about, and verses of poetry which were like +pointed barbs in the flesh of Ebenezer Brown. But when the old man +turned to Cairns suggesting the dismissal of the reporter, he received +small encouragement from the editor. + +"O'Connor is careless; I grant that. He is still a boy, and he acts on +impulses, often mistaken ones. He is very clever with his pencil, and +does not care a hang whom he caricatures. He has even had the cheek to +sketch me. I saw it. + +"And me, too," growled Ebenezer. + +"I saw that, too. I suppose Gifford exhibited it to you?" said Cairns. + +"Never mind how I saw it. It is impudence, insubordination, +ingratitude," replied the old man. + +"Hem!" coughed the editor, dubiously. + +"Look what his father owed to me." + +"And you to O'Connor," suggested Cairns. "I should put the ingratitude +on one side. O'Connor can go if you like, and I shall also retire." + +"Oh, nonsense, Cairns! You have a good billet cried Ebenezer. + +"No better than I deserve, I assure you. The long and short of it is +that I will not allow the petty jealousy of Gifford to deprive me of an +invaluable assistant. This is an ultimatum." + +Ebenezer Brown retired, grumbling to himself, while Cairns sought +Desmond O'Connor. + +"You are a hopeless young dog," he said, picking up a sketch. "A +racehorse! I presume you bet?" + +"Just a trifle now and again," replied the reporter, carelessly. "I won +a tenner over that horse." + +"Knowing the prejudices of your chief, I am surprised at you. Ebenezer +Brown detests racehorses." + +"It runs in the blood, sir. My father was worse than I. He would have +owned this paper but for a horse and jockey. The horse would have won +the Melbourne Cup but that it did not fall in with the jockey's plans. +The governor turned to Ebenezer Brown for assistance, and mortgaged 'The +Observer,' The old man should be eternally grateful to racehorses." + +"And here am I for ever fighting your battles. Why don't you help me? If +Ebenezer Brown knows that you gamble, he will shoot you out," +remonstrated Cairns. + +"He knew the governor's besetting sin, and never so much as remonstrated +with him," said Desmond. + +"Because your father was invaluable to him, and cheap, neither of which +qualifications you possess. There is another matter against you--in +fact, several other matters. You dabble in theatricals." + +Desmond O'Connor laughed. + +"Do you object to theatricals?" he asked. + +"Not in the least, excepting from a humanitarian point of view. My only +charge against your company is that you contemplate the mutilation of +'As You Like It.'" + +"Better to aim high," suggested Desmond O'Connor, "than to be content +with second-rate melodrama. We have a capable instructor, and we are +very humble, I assure you. Our attitude is one of deprecation; be +merciful our prayer." + +"Do you deserve mercy," asked the editor, "rendering none? But let that +pass. You at least, I am told, are among the passable players. But +Ebenezer Brown abhors plays and players; he detests billiards and cards; +strong drink is anathema to him. How can you expect to keep your +position--an actor, a billiard player, exponent of bridge, and one who +shouts and is shouted?" + +"I can only rely upon your support. All these things are harmless," said +the reporter. + +"Undoubtedly harmless in moderation. But the owner of this paper regards +horses, cards and billiards merely as media for gambling; he cannot +discriminate between cards as a pleasant relaxation and as a method for +playing 'beggar my neighbour.' Plays and strong drink he associates with +other vices. If you were a good and prudent young man, you would hide +your vices under a pious exterior--for home consumption." + +"Hypocrisy!" cried Desmond O'Connor. "I would rather be anything than a +hypocrite. What right has old Ebenezer Brown to come dictating to me and +preaching piety? Have you heard his history?" + +"Snatches of it," said Cairns. "It is the history of many other +successful men." + +"He is a robber, a mere bird of prey. He has built on the ruins of +widows and orphans.' The whole town knows what he is, and he deceives no +man, excepting Gifford and himself. Does he expect to deceive the +Almighty?" + +A sound behind them, half a cry and half a curse, caused the two men to +turn towards the door. There stood Ebenezer Brown, his accustomed pallor +changed to an unhealthy purple. + +"Go!" he cried, barely able to articulate the word in his rage, as he +pointed an attenuated finger towards the door. "You are an insubordinate +young dog! Go at once!" + +"One minute, Mr. Brown. I warned you that no one should dismiss my +subordinates but I. If O'Connor goes, I follow him." + +"As you please," gasped the old man. "There are others as clever as you, +and infinitely less expensive. You ungrateful young scapegrace!" he +added, turning on Desmond, "I have been a friend to you and to your +family. But for me you would have starved." + +With this he stalked out of the office, leaving the other men smiling +broadly in each other's faces at this outburst of impotent rage. + +"I am a stubborn sort of person," said Cairns, "and I rather like this +locality. Shall we stay in Grey Town and fight him?" + +Desmond eyed his superior with an unaffected surprise. + +"Fight him? But how?" he asked. + +"Come round to me to-night--no, to-morrow night, young man. I must see +one or two men of business in the town. After my interviews we will +discuss the best means of fighting Ebenezer." + +"Shall we take the old man at his word, and leave him in the lurch? Do +you think he could run 'The Observer' for himself?" asked Desmond. + +"No, Desmond; here I stay until he finds a successor. I love the old +'Observer,' and I am responsible for it while I remain on the staff. +After I go, I may take my revenge out of the ancient sinner." + +That day the work proceeded as usual. During the course of it a man came +into the office and asked for Desmond O'Connor. He was a big man, with a +good-humoured, ugly face, surmounted by curly black hair. He was tanned +by the sun, and his blue-grey Irish eyes peeped out from the +reddish-brown surroundings of his face. He had a determined mouth and +chin, a jaw that spoke of a struggle with the world, and of success in +that battle. + +"You are O'Connor?" he asked Desmond when he appeared. "I am Quirk, the +long lost and recently returned. Did Miss O'Connor speak of me?" + +"She did," replied Desmond, "and of your adventures. Could you favour me +with a brief recital of your career?" + +"For copy? No, my lad; I am reserving that for my own paper. Any chance +for another paper here?" he asked, casually. + +"You had better not ask me. I am still an employe of The Observer.'" + +"Still? Do you anticipate a move?" asked Quirk, leaning half over the +counter. + +"I do. I have my marching orders." + +"Been playing up, eh? Well, I was a holy terror at your age. I made the +old dad's life a torment to him, and sowed a bushel of grey hairs in the +mother's head. Is the boss in?" + +"Cairns? Yes, I think so." + +"Approachable?" asked Quirk. + +"Sometimes," replied Desmond. + +"What sort of forecast to-day--stormy?" + +"Knock at his door, and let him answer for himself." + +"Right. I will see you as I go out." + +He went to the editor's door, and knocked violently. There was no +response, and he knocked again--more violently. Then the door opened +suddenly, and Cairns confronted him in a white fury. + +"Now, what the dickens, sir," cried the editor, "brings your big +battering ram of a fist in contact with my door? Nature provides +earthquakes in these parts without your assistance, you noisy devil!" + +"Who are you shouting at?" answered Quirk, in an equal fury. "Can't a +man tap gently----." + +"Tap gently! What sort of a disturbance happens when you knock loudly? +What do you want with me?" + +"Nothing now. I came to speak to a man, and I find a grizzly bear. Can't +a man who has come from the other side of creation call on a local +celebrity but he must have his nose snapped off? Good-day to you, sir!" + +Cairns' sense of the humorous saved the situation. Recovering quickly +from his irritation, he burst into a roar of laughter. This, for the +moment, only added to the other man's indignation. + +"Are you laughing at me, sir?" he asked. + +"No, I was laughing at myself. I apologise to you; but you came at a +moment when I was hopelessly busy," replied Cairns. + +Quirk's face relaxed into a grim smile. He regarded the thin, humorous +face of the editor attentively. Satisfied with his survey, he said: + +"Well, I won't bother you just now. I know what it is to be in a tearing +hurry. I ran a newspaper myself in the States; you have to be here, +there, and everywhere to do that. Can't trust to anyone but yourself, +can you?" + +"Not a living soul. But I will give you five minutes if you slip +inside." + +Quirk entered the editor's office, and the door closed. In half an +hour's time it opened again, and the two men came out together. + +"Five minutes!" laughed Quirk as he shook Cairns' hand at the door. + +"You are such a fascinating man that the minutes have slipped away +unnoticed. You will be at my room to-night?" + +"Of course I will. Hard at it, young man?" he asked, with a friendly nod +to Desmond. + +"A twopenny-ha'penny report of a twopenny-ha'penny meeting," replied +Desmond, contemptuously. + +"Make it spicy; touch it up with a little humour. That's the way to make +journalism attractive. Cover a commonplace incident with the mantle of +merriment, and make the world laugh. Lord, how we love a good honest +laugh!" + +With this he went briskly out of the office, and Desmond turned to his +task with a renewed interest. There was a point here and a sentence +there that might be made humorous. When the speakers read his report of +what they had spoken, they discovered that there was, after all, a +latent wit in them hitherto quite unsuspected. Those who had been +privileged to hear them discovered that remarks had been made at which +they had laughed, and that the speakers were not such prosy old fossils +as they had suspected. + +"That man Quirk knows the secret of the new journalism," said Cairns to +Desmond. "It is not truth, or even a make-believe truth; it is to arouse +your readers' interest. Tickle them with humour; stuff them with the +sensational; let everything be brand-new. We will make the old +'Observer' gallop to beat us." + +Desmond raised his eyebrows and waited to hear more, but Cairns turned +on his heel, saying: + +"In a short time I may satisfy your curiosity, O'Connor; but there's a +lot to be done first." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +READJUSTMENT. + + +For weeks after Denis Quirk's homecoming Kathleen O'Connor was uncertain +as to her feeling towards him. + +He was ugly and abrupt, somewhat inquisitive, with none of those gentler +qualities that we term polish. He spoke his mind, and spoke it bluntly, +regardless of the feelings of others. Self-reliant and perfectly +satisfied with himself, he sometimes irritated the girl to the verge of +anger. But he was rarely angry, or, if he blazed out into sudden +passion, returned speedily to his customary imperturbability, and he was +always humorous. His mother he worshipped, and with her he was gentle as +a woman; his father he jested with in an affectionate manner. Kathleen +realised that he was a good son, while she resented his attitude to +herself. His abrupt questions, his curious searching looks led her to +believe that he was for ever testing her to discover the strength and +weakness of her character. This caused the girl to adopt an attitude of +defence, and to meet his inquisitive questions with replies that almost +bordered on discourtesy. + +Just a fortnight after his arrival, as she sat writing in the +breakfast-room at Layton, pausing now and again to watch the gambols of +Mrs. Quirk's Persian kitten, Denis Quirk marched into the room. He +picked up the kitten, and seated himself with it near the door. + +"Writing?" he asked, abruptly. + +His manner of questioning her, indicating to her mind a desire to know +as to whom and of what she was writing, aroused an immediate resentment +in the girl. + +"Yes, I am," she answered, shortly. + +He smiled at her manifest annoyance, and continued to play with the +kitten. + +"Fire away then and get it all off your chest," he said. + +Kathleen felt that writing was an impossibility under the circumstances, +but she was determined that he should not recognise her embarrassment. +Her nib flew relentlessly over the sheets, but the letter was +disconnected and dry. At last she gathered her writing materials +together, and rose to leave the room. + +"Where are you going?" he asked. + +"Never mind that," she replied. "I have never been asked to give an +account of my actions, and I do not intend to." + +Denis Quirk smiled yet more broadly. It was evident that her irritation +amused him. This did not make her the better pleased. + +"Sit down and talk to me," he suggested. + +"I have other and better things to do," she answered. + +He whistled the long-drawn note of surprise. His chair was across the +door, but he made no attempt to move it. + +"Angry?" he asked. + +"Will you please move your chair?" she replied. + +"Why should I? I am quite comfortable. Just sit down for five minutes +and talk about the old people. I have any number of questions to ask +you," he said. + +"You always have; but I have no time to answer them. Please move your +chair." + +"Do you always have your own way?" he asked. + +"Always--with gentlemen," she answered. + +"Then you shall have it this once with Denis Quirk, who neither +professes nor has the slightest wish to be--a gentleman." + +He rose and put his chair on one side. + +"Thank you," she said, as he held the door open for her. But, while she +went up the stairs to Mrs. Quirk's room, the eternal question was +repeating itself to her: "What do you think of this man?" + +She found old Mrs. Quirk in her room, arranging a series of photos. +There was Denis from infancy until the period when he had left his +home--ugly, but smiling from infancy to manhood. + +"What do you think of Denis? Isn't he grown into a fine man, and as full +of fun as if he were a boy? And doesn't he love his old mother?" asked +the fond old mother. + +"Why shouldn't he?" asked Kathleen. "I love her as if she were my own +mother." + +"God bless you, child. I believe you do. Did you see what he has brought +me? Brooches and shawls! But what good is jewellery to me? You must take +them." + +"No, no!" cried Kathleen, hastily. "You must keep them for Mr. Quirk's +wife." + +A smile lit up the old lady's face as she looked at the brooch in her +hand and then at Kathleen. + +"I just will do that same," she said. + +A peremptory knock at the door, and Denis himself entered. He smiled as +he noted the array of photographs. + +"Which is the uglier," he asked Kathleen, "the picture or the original? +Fire away, mother, and tell Miss O'Connor every detail of my life. Cut +my first tooth when I was seven days old; spoke--or did I swear--at +three months, fought my first fight on my first birthday, and I've been +fighting ever since." + +"Oh, Denis, Denis, you are as much an omadhaun as ever," sighed Mrs. +Quirk. "But he was a fine boy, Kathleen!" + +"And into a fine man he has grown, mother!" laughed Denis. "But what +could you expect with such a mother? Father alive, Miss O'Connor?" + +The abruptness of the question was quite disconcerting to Kathleen. + +"No," she replied; "my father is dead." + +"Sorry I asked," said Denis. + +"God rest his soul! They do say he was a great man; but what could you +expect, and him an O'Connor?" said Mrs. Quirk. + +"Hem!" began Denis, but he checked himself and asked: "Any relations +living, Miss O'Connor?" + +"There's her brother Desmond, as handsome as herself," said Mrs. Quirk. + +"Anything like me? But that's not to be expected. Where does he work?" + +"My brother is a reporter at 'The Observer' office," replied Kathleen. +Had it not been for Mrs. Quirk's presence she would have checked his +questions once and for all. + +"I must look him up to-day. I start operations in Grey Town this +afternoon. Did it ever strike you that this place needs stirring up? +It's been sleeping ever since it was born. I have come here to make +things hum, I tell you that." + +Kathleen laughed at the thought of Grey Town humming. All her life she +had known it as a gentle, quiet town, to which excitement was unknown +and undesired. + +"What do you intend to do?" she asked. + +"Everything," he answered. "See here, in twelve months' time you will +scarcely know Grey Town. There will be squalls, of course, and plenty of +fighting. But when I get to work I'll make the old place boom. Ran a +paper in the States, and divided the town into friends and enemies. I +was just over the last libel action brought against 'The Firebrand' by +the last enemy on my list when I sold out. The paper went like wildfire, +and the town all but doubled itself in my time. Nothing like a little +mustard and pepper if you want to make things go." + +"I prophesy that Grey Town will subdue even you. This is a very sleepy +atmosphere. No man remains vigorous for over six months; you will soon +be slumbering like the rest of us." + +"I shall be dead first," he answered. "You don't know me." + +"Nor you Grey Town. You are not our first reformer; we have had numbers +of them, and we have destroyed them without remorse," said Kathleen. + +From the window of the room they could look across fields now green in +the freshness of early summer, across the racecourse and park, to where +Grey Town climbed irregularly towards St. Mary's Church. There it lay, a +town whose streets were only partly made; where sanitation had halted in +its most primitive stages; where little attempt had been made to assist +the beauties of nature. Yet Grey Town was, in the distance, a pretty +spot, embowered in green trees, the blue smoke resting over it, and in +the distance the great blue ocean. Large buildings and small hovels, +well-cared for gardens and filthy back yards, imposing factories and +dilapidated shops--there was surely work here for an energetic reformer. +But Kathleen knew the strength of vested rights, the strength of +contented indolence; above all, the bitter tongue of scandal that was +ever ready to destroy a prophet. Others had fought with Grey Town and +failed; why not Denis Quirk? + +"No," he answered, reading her thoughts. "Grey Town has been waiting for +me, and to-morrow I start on Grey Town. See here! This town should be a +city. We need a few more cities, and Grey Town shall be one of the +first. Given half a dozen factories and an improved system of +railways----." + +"Factories!" laughed Kathleen, her eyes straying towards the town and +its open sea-front, where only a small peninsula of rock protected the +bay from the south-west gales. "You are dreaming, Mr. Quirk?" + +"Nothing is impossible nowadays. Why no factories in Grey Town? Shall +Melbourne possess all the good things? Let us provide for ourselves and +for other people, and bring money to the town. Factories Grey Town must +have to make agricultural implements, to turn our wool into blankets, +our wheat into flour, our milk into butter. Factories and an up-to-date +paper." + +Mrs. Quirk had listened in a dazed manner to this conversation. It +delighted her to sit and listen to her son, just as it did on those rare +occasions when her husband talked to her. But she never quite realised +what the topic under discussion was, although she nodded or shook her +head as she believed was necessary to the occasion. + +"Another paper?" cried Kathleen. + +"And why not?" asked Mrs. Quirk. "Denis knows what he is saying and +doing. Why not another paper if Denis wants it? And what colour would it +be, Denis?" + +Denis Quirk laughed heartily at his mother's misapprehension, but he +threw his arm around her and stooped to kiss her. + +"Black and white," he replied; "a newspaper, old lady, up to date and +go-ahead, like the old 'Firebrand.'" Then he turned again to Kathleen. +"You don't know me," he said. "You imagine I am nothing better than a +talker; just wait for three months before you judge me." + +Therewith he swung out of the room. A few minutes later Kathleen saw him +striding rapidly down the avenue on his way towards Grey Town. But she +had other things to do besides thinking of Denis Quirk. No sooner was he +out of sight than she had settled Mrs. Quirk comfortably in an +easy-chair on the balcony, and was reading to the old lady until the +latter fell into a peaceful sleep. + +It was a quiet and monotonous life for a young girl. Mrs. Quirk was now +so dependent upon her that she must have Kathleen always by her side. +This was not due to selfishness on the old lady's part. She did not +understand that young people need a certain amount of amusement and +pleasure to make their lives complete. Kathleen, being wholly unselfish +in her nature, considered it her sole duty to look after the old lady. +Mr. Quirk, too, had made Kathleen his secretary and accountant. When she +was not with Mrs. Quirk, the girl was generally to be found surrounded +by accounts and business letters. + +It was thus that Denis Quirk found her on his return from the town. + +"Do you ever go out?" he asked her, imperatively. + +"Every day," she answered. + +"To theatres and dances?" he asked. + +"I have no time for such frivolities," she answered, laughingly. "I am a +working woman now, with every moment occupied." + +"Pshaw!" he answered, impatiently. "You need readjusting; you all need +readjusting. Life was never intended to be a mere drudgery." + +At tea--the Quirks still clung to the old scheme of meals of the +Collingwood days--as they sat around the large table, he suddenly asked +his father: + +"Why don't you buy a motor, Dad?" + +Samuel Quirk glared at his son for some moments in speechless surprise. +Then he answered: + +"What would I be doing with a motor?" + +"Enjoying the beauties of Australia, and giving the mother a little +pleasure," replied Denis. + +"Pleasure! I would die in a motor," cried Mrs. Quirk. + +"Just as well die there as in a phaeton. If you once ride in a motor, +you will never ride in anything else, unless it's an aeroplane. If the +Dad doesn't buy you a motor, I will." + +"A motor! What would the boys say to see me in a motor?" growled Samuel +Quirk. + +"Confound the boys! If the boys object to a motor, they are fools. +Motors mean the circulation of money. What is the difference between a +motor and a house, a motor and a horse, a motor and a coat? Don't they +all represent money to the working man? Don't bother yourself about the +boys, or the jackasses either!" + +Already there were signs of political differences between father and +son. Samuel Quirk had clung to his Labour political creed all his life; +now, in his time of prosperity, he refused to resign his early +principles. Denis, a Democrat at heart, was something of a freelance, +inclined to tilt indiscriminately at both parties. This, however, was +the first occasion since his homecoming on which he had openly opposed +his father, and Samuel Quirk resented it. + +"I have two legs to travel on, and they are good enough for me," he +growled. + +"Just hear him, and he calls himself a Progressive. It's a Conservative +he is. Where's the use of science, if you refuse to make use of its +gifts?" cried Denis. + +Kathleen recognised that Denis was irritating his father and grieving +his mother, not of intention, but simply because he did not realise that +Samuel Quirk could not tolerate opposition. + +"Well, I have a proposal to make. You shall hire a motor," she +suggested. "Mr. Quirk and Granny shall ride in it, and see how they like +it. Then, perhaps, Mr. Quirk may be induced to buy one." + +"Never!" growled Samuel Quirk. "Them noisy, dusty, smelling inventions +of the----!" + +"Hush!" cried Mrs. Quirk. "The devil never invented anything good." + +"And where's the good of them?" asked her husband. + +"They make a long and hard journey short and pleasant. But Miss O'Connor +is right. You shall try what a motor is like, and if you don't take to +it I will buy one for the mother myself," said Denis. + +It was an exciting moment in the house when he drove up the following +day in a large car. Mrs. Quirk, if very nervous, was anxious to +experience the new sensation of travelling in a motor; Kathleen was +keenly desirous that Denis' plan might succeed; Samuel Quirk feigned +contempt and indifference, but he was in his heart as excited as his +wife. + +"Now, come along, mother, and you, too, Miss O'Connor. Will you try a +short spin, Dad?" said Denis. + +Samuel Quirk strolled over to and eyed the motor even more +contemptuously than before. + +"What's that?" he asked the chauffeur. + +"That's the throttle," replied the latter. + +"Humph! I suppose you can drive the noisy thing?" + +The chauffeur nodded; he was too insulted to reply in words. + +"Can you stop it?" asked the old man. + +"In a few yards," said Denis. "Step inside, Dad, and see for yourself." + +Grumbling and growling, Samuel Quirk followed his wife and Kathleen into +the tonneau. From the front seat Denis directed the driver. + +"Easy at first, until they find their legs; then intoxicate them with +the sensation of flying," he half whispered. + +To Kathleen it was pure joy from the first; but Mrs. Quirk, and, to tell +the truth, Samuel Quirk, were for half an hour very nervous. + +"Can you stop her?" the latter asked as they flew down a steep hill. + +In answer to the question, the chauffeur brought the car to a +standstill. Thus assured, Samuel Quirk became confident, and before +they returned home he was urging the chauffeur to increased speed. + +"Do you call this fast?" he asked; and when the car began to race along +the road a pleased smile lighted up his face. He even waved his hand +pleasantly to those he passed on the road, and when the car stopped in +front of the house the old man asked the chauffeur: + +"How much do you want for it?" + +"You don't think of buying this old car?" cried Denis. "You want a new +one, and right up to date." + +"Would it go as fast as this one?" asked Samuel Quirk. + +"You shall have one out in a few days and try it." + +Only a fortnight later a large twenty-horse-power car and a chauffeur +were added to the equipment of "Layton." Samuel Quirk was the most +enthusiastic admirer of, and the most frequent passenger in, the car. He +was curious as to the machinery and the method of driving. Probably this +was the most satisfactory thing that his wealth had brought him. + +Mrs. Quirk, too, after her first nervousness, found great pleasure in +the motor; but to Kathleen it was the first of a series of new +enjoyments, for Denis Quirk hurried his mother on from one dissipation +to another--concerts, theatres, even dances. Hesitatingly, Mrs. Quirk +accepted his advice to try them; but, having once found pleasure in the +evident enjoyment they gave Kathleen, she willingly went wherever Denis +advised her. In this way the household at "Layton" received the +necessary readjustment, with excellent results to all the inmates. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +"THE OBSERVER" DIES. + + +Dr. Marsh was in his surgery, skimming the contents of a medical journal +in search of the newer methods of treatment. Now and again he glanced +from the printed pages out of his window at the asphalt path leading +from the gate to his front door, not so much because he expected a +patient as from mere habit. It was an off day in Grey Town, and his +surprise was keen when he chanced to see, not one, but three men +approaching the house. + +It had become a custom with him to scan a patient and diagnose a +complaint at long range, and to subsequently confirm or disprove his +first opinion more intimately at closer quarters. Being a shrewd and +observant man, he not infrequently hit a bull's-eye at the first shot. +Scrutinising the three who were coming up the path, he muttered: + +"Cairns, Desmond O'Connor, and the ugliest beggar I ever saw! But which +is the patient? Cairns has dyspepsia, I swear; Desmond could not be sick +if he tried; the ugly beggar suffers from nothing worse than his face, +and that is a chronic condition." + +Commenting half-audibly in this manner, he hastened to the door and +cried: + +"Are you all patients?" + +Cairns shook his head sorrowfully. "No such luck, doctor! Beyond a +little discomfort after meals, we are hopelessly sound." + +"Are you a deputation, then, come to ask me to represent you in the +Federal Parliament?" asked the doctor. + +"It may come to that," said Cairns. "If Burrows does not speedily do +something for Grey Town, we shall need a new member. May I introduce Mr. +Quirk, a new resident and a live citizen?" + +Denis Quirk and the doctor shook hands, each regarding the other +curiously the while. + +"An insurance agent," said the doctor in the half-audible tone he +sometimes adopted. + +To this the others replied with a laugh. + +"No fear, doctor!" cried Cairns. "Am I the man to take a mean advantage +of you? We have come here to consult you--not professionally, but as one +who knows this district, alive and dead." + +"None better," said Dr. Marsh. + +They followed him into a cosy and orderly surgery, and sat down at his +bidding. For his part, the doctor leaned up against the mantelpiece, one +elbow resting on the marble and one arm free. + +"Now, then, what is it?" he asked. + +"We are contemplating a venture," said Denis Quirk--"a newspaper in +opposition to 'The Observer.'" + +Dr. Marsh shook his head emphatically, frowning the while at Denis +Quirk. + +"Mental, decidedly mental," he growled. "You have delusions." + +Denis Quirk laughed uproariously at this remark. The doctor was a man +after his own heart. + +"You don't give it a chance?" he asked. + +"Not a thousand to one hope! What do we want with two papers?" + +"Precisely!" cried Denis Quirk. "But supposing we were to shoulder 'The +Observer' out of Grey Town?" + +"Is Cairns a mutineer?" asked the doctor. + +"I am a cast-off. Old Ebenezer Brown has given me marching orders, and I +am looking for a new master," replied Cairns. + +Dr. Marsh's face brightened, for he had a consuming hatred for the owner +of 'The Observer.' Even the faintest hope of wounding Ebenezer Brown was +a reason for joy to him. + +"It might be done?" he said. "Are you a newspaper man?" he asked Denis +Quirk. + +"In the past, and, I hope, in the future. I am tempted to risk a battle +with 'The Observer.' With Cairns and O'Connor, myself, and one or two +others--yourself, for instance, doctor--we might make the old rag +gallop, possibly even beat it, eh?" + +"Stop a minute. Do any of you drink?" asked the doctor. + +The other men shook their heads. + +"Too early," said Cairns. "If we started now, where would we end?" + +"Very well, then. Let me have some details before I decide. Who is to +finance the paper?" + +"I shall do that, with your help, if you like, leaving the public to pay +us principal and interest when we have destroyed Ebenezer Brown and his +organ," said Denis Quirk. + +"Cairns will be editor, I suppose?" asked the doctor. + +"Cairns editor, O'Connor a reporter, myself manager, and Tim O'Neill +printer's devil." + +"Tim O'Neill!" laughed the doctor. "Where did you discover that +rapscallion? Molly Healy introduced you to him, I swear." + +"I forgot Molly Healy in mentioning the staff. She is to write a series +of articles dealing with the seamy side of Grey Town life and her +methods of reforming the riff-raff. Yes; it was she who brought Tim to +me. 'Here you are!' she cried. 'Tis the wickedest boy in Grey Town. Make +him something useful, and you will be doing a public service to me and +to the town and district.' I engaged him as printer's devil on that +recommendation." + +After half an hour of facts and figures, the doctor dismissed his +visitors. He was satisfied that this was not an impossible scheme, and +he even went so far as to accept a portion of the financial burden. This +argued well for the newspaper, for the doctor was a shrewd man. + +Ebenezer Brown firmly believed in vested interests when those interests +were his own. Until he was actually faced by "The Mercury," he had +regarded opposition to "The Observer" as impossible. When confronted by +the strong staff of Denis Quirk's paper, he at first began to whine over +the treachery of opposition; then he straightened his back to fight. + +Gifford, the sub-editor, had hailed the resignation of Cairns as +promotion to himself; and so it might have proved, but Ebenezer Brown +was far too shrewd to oppose Gifford to Cairns. + +"We must find a new editor," he remarked to the former when the rumour +of opposition reached him. + +Gifford, with a half promise of the editorial chair in his mind, smiled +blandly. + +"You will not forget----," he began. + +"I forget everything," snapped Ebenezer Brown, "when I have to fight. I +am going to Melbourne to find a strong editor. After this opposition is +crushed I intend to sack him and place you in charge," he added more +gently, for he liked Gifford, if he really cared for any man. + +But the fight was not to end so simply and speedily as the old man +imagined. "The Mercury" dawned on Grey Town, strong, cynical, and up to +date. There were initial troubles with the Cable News Agency, but Cairns +managed to adjust these, against the determined opposition of Ebenezer +Brown. Then came splendid days for the advertising public, when both +newspapers brought down their scale of charges to the very lowest price. +Keen, too, was the demand for copy when Desmond O'Connor and his junior +reporter found themselves opposed to men almost as keen as they. Grey +Town fairly throbbed with excitement, and daily searched the rival +papers to discover which one had outwitted the other. In the office of +"The Mercury" Denis Quirk and Cairns sat together planning new features +to place their paper in advance of its rival. Their first success was +the nobbling of "The Observer's" senior reporter. For this Tim O'Neil +was responsible. + +Tim was errand boy, printer's devil, and messenger for "The Mercury," +and he firmly believed that the newspaper's success was due to his +exertions. All the ingenuity of which he was capable, the boy employed +on behalf of his employers. When the State member came to Grey Town to +make his election speech, Tim O'Neill recognised an opportunity. It was +a notorious fact that "The Observer's" new reporter was addicted to +drink, and, after reporting the speech in full, he slipped into the +"Royal Hart" Hotel, as was his custom, for a glass of whisky, his +shorthand report in his pocket. After him, cautiously, went Tim O'Neill, +and abstracted his notes from his pocket, substituting for them a +spurious copy. Where Tim had secured this false shorthand report history +does not relate, but they were cleverly done, so like and yet so unlike +the original as to be ridiculous. It was this report that appeared in +"The Observer" next morning. In his fury the editor discharged the chief +reporter, and when he went out to re-engage him found that Cairns had +been before him. + +"Tim O'Neill, you deserve a sound thrashing," said Denis Quirk when he +heard of the boy's escapade. "But your wages are raised, not as an +incentive to further crimes, but because you have a future before you. +Do you ever study?" + +"Just a little. Miss Molly is teaching me," said Tim. + +"I must arrange with Burnside to give you a few hours every week. You +will be an editor some day, Tim, if you avoid the rocks," said Denis +Quirk. + +That very day Tim came in to Desmond O'Connor, his face the picture of +anxiety. Noting this, Desmond eyed the youth in surprise: then he burst +out in a shout of laughter. + +"What are you doing that for?" asked Tim, furiously. + +"I never saw you so melancholy before, Tim. What particular sin have you +committed? Or have you lost a far-distant cousin? Confess your guilt, +Tim." + +"I suppose you think you're funny?" cried Tim. "I've half a mind to go +and give myself to 'The Observer,' and ruin this blessed old paper." + +Desmond O'Connor's shout of laughter brought Cairns from his room, +anxious to share the joke. + +"Let us have it at once," he cried. "In this strenuous life a joke is +too precious an event to be wasted. Who made it, you or Tim?" + +"Tim is acquiring a high sense of humour," said Desmond. "Tell Mr. +Cairns your awful threat, Tim." + +"Yah!" cried Tim, vindictively, "I'll tell Mr. Cairns what I came to +tell you, and leave you to wish you knew it." + +Therewith he drew the editor into his room, and closed the doors +carefully. + +"They're going to strike, sir, on both papers, for higher wages," he +said in a low voice. + +"Who do you mean, Imp?" asked Cairns, addressing the boy by the name he +had especially devised for him. + +"The compositors. To-night they're going out to stop both papers." + +"Tim O'Neill, you are a perfect mine of information. Providence was +determined to bless 'The Mercury' when it sent us Tim O'Neill. Just run +away now and ask Mr. Quirk if I can see him." + +Denis Quirk was at once a diplomatic and a determined man. On hearing +the newest development, he hurried away to interview the prospective +strikers. + +"Lay your grievances before me," he said. "If I can put them right with +justice to the proprietors of this paper, it shall be done." + +It was the usual story--higher wages and shorter hours, a larger staff, +better paid, with less work to do individually. Denis Quirk offered a +compromise, but this was refused. After half an hour's discussion, he +suddenly broke out into a white heat of anger. + +"Do you fancy I can't do without you?" he cried. + +The men replied with a burst of ironical laughter. + +"I began life as a compositor, and I have not forgotten my trade," he +said. "You can go, every one of you that wants more. But 'The Mercury' +will appear to-morrow, take my tip for that." + +Sullenly the men withdrew, to hang about outside the office, watching to +see who would take their places. But no one came from outside, while in +the printing room all was bustle. + +"Now, throw off your coats," cried Denis Quirk, "every one of you. You +too, Cairns, and do what I tell you. You, Tim O'Neill, take this +telegram to the post office. We will have a new staff to-morrow, and men +I can rely upon." + +In this way "The Mercury" was printed under the greatest difficulties, +but the rival newspaper failed to appear. Ebenezer Brown was stubborn, +and when his editor brought him the news of the threatened strike he +refused to concede anything. + +"Not one penny more, and not one second less, will they get from me. Let +them strike," he growled. + +"But you must come to terms," said the editor. "You can't afford to miss +one issue of 'The Observer.'" + +"I am paying fair wages, and they may fish for a rise," replied Ebenezer +Brown. + +The following day, like its rival, "The Observer" was manned again and +working smoothly, but its prestige was hopelessly impaired. +Thenceforward "The Mercury" advanced daily at the expense of the older +paper, until, six weeks after the beginning of the campaign, Ebenezer +Brown went to Denis Quirk to effect a compromise. + +Denis was sitting in his shirt-sleeves, his collar off and neckband +loosened, when Ebenezer Brown entered. + +"Sit down, Mr. Brown. I will attend to you in five minutes. We are so +confoundedly busy that I must put this through at once." + +Ebenezer Brown mumbled something inarticulate and sat down, watching +the pile of papers on the desk in front of the man he hated. After a few +minutes Denis Quirk swung round on the office stool to face him. + +"Well, sir, what is it?" he asked. "An advertisement or an obituary +notice of 'The Observer?'" + +Ebenezer Brown was rendered speechless with indignation for the moment. + +"I didn't come here to be insulted," he growled. + +"Then why did you come? Haven't you been throwing insults at me from the +columns of your rag these six weeks past? A man doesn't walk into the +lion's den to have his hand licked by the lion." + +"And how have you treated me?" cried Ebenezer Brown. "First you stole my +reporter's copy, then you stole my reporter." + +"Stole, sir!" Denis Quirk rang his bell, and Desmond O'Connor entered. +"Kindly take down this gentleman's words, Desmond. Now, Mr. Brown, +please repeat your statement." + +"You are an unscrupulous person!" growled the old man. + +"You have that down, Desmond? Continue, Mr. Brown," said Denis Quirk. + +"Robber! Forger!" cried the old man, roused to fury. "You have neither +manners nor honesty." + +Therewith he rose and rushed into the street, and the burst of laughter +that he heard as he went did not tend to make him better pleased or +satisfied. + +"Do you intend to prosecute?" asked Desmond O'Connor. + +"Prosecute! No, my lad, I only defend actions for libel. If he had used +every term of reproach in every dictionary, I would not be tempted to a +prosecution. I am highly flattered. It proves that I have succeeded in +making the old man uncomfortable, and satisfies me. Just write a +humorous sketch on the little skirmish, but don't give any names. The +town will understand who is the principal character if you manage your +article dexterously and with humour. Bring it to me to touch up when the +sketch is completed." + +For two weeks longer "The Observer" struggled on; then Ebenezer Brown +sent an intermediary, in the person of a lawyer, to make terms. + +"There is only one possible arrangement--"The Observer" goes out," said +Quirk. "How much does Ebenezer Brown ask?" + +"His proposal is to buy 'The Mercury,'" replied the messenger. + +"Hopeless! I have started 'The Mercury' as a financial investment and +something more. It is to be a literary battery to galvanise Grey Town +into energy. I really don't care a hang for 'The Observer.' That organ +is dying rapidly; in a few weeks it will be dead. But I am prepared to +pay for a more speedy ending to a useless life," replied Denis Quirk. + +"How would a limited proprietary suit you?" asked the lawyer. + +"With Ebenezer as a shareholder? Impossible! 'The Mercury' intends to +shoot at old Eb. and his sort. These are the men who are holding back +the wheels of progress. He is a landlord who keeps his premises in a +shocking state, charges big rents, refuses to make repairs, refuses to +build, opposes reasonable rates, and holds one half of the council under +his domination. Ebenezer Brown represents stagnation and corruption, the +last things I intend to countenance." + +"Shall I tell him your objection?" laughed the lawyer. + +"If it will encourage him to prosecute for libel, I say yes; but you may +use your own discretion. Tell him I will buy 'The Observer' right out +for a sum to be settled by arbitration--buy it out or destroy it." + +Thus did it come to pass that "The Observer" disappeared into oblivion, +and in its place came that fiery paper, "The Mercury," respecter of +neither person nor position. + +It was "The Mercury" that first breathed on the smouldering ashes of +municipal discontent, and roused the ratepayers of Grey Town to organise +for protection and advancement. Thus was accomplished the first act in a +drama, and thus was fought the initial battle of a long and fierce +campaign. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +JOHN GERARD. + + +Cairns and Denis Quirk were working post haste in "The Mercury" office. +"We must make 'The Mercury' a go-ahead, up-to-date paper," said Cairns. + +"That's it, my man," replied Denis Quirk. + +"We want to consider our readers' amusements," said Cairns. + +"Tickle them, and make them laugh, and they will put their arms round +the old 'Mercury's' neck and love her," cried Denis. + +"Racing is the first and most important amusement in Australia. You need +a sporting editor." + +"Good old Cairns! With you and Tim O'Neill I have the finest stuff in +Victoria. A sporting editor you shall have, sonny. What about Desmond +O'Connor?" + +Cairns shook his head doubtfully. + +"Couldn't stand it," he answered. "He's too fond of Dame Chance already, +and inclined to be one of the good-natured 'have-a-drink-with-me' crowd. +Desmond needs watching." + +"I'll tell you what he wants--to get right away from here, and fight the +world alone," said Denis. + +"You and I," cried Cairns, "are the men to found a new party with a new +Australian policy. Mere parochialism must go, sir, if Australia is to +have a destiny. I have my eye upon Desmond as a disciple." + +"Don't hurry, Cairns. Reform Grey Town first, then turn your mind to +Australia. There is plenty to be done here. Have you prepared that +article on the municipal omissions?" + +Cairns handed a proof to Denis Quirk, and the latter ran his eye over +it. + +"Good!" he cried, approvingly. "Slash it into them! 'Too much of a hole +and corner system.' 'Too many surprises sprung upon a too-confiding +public.' That's the way to make things hum. I must give Wilde a retainer +to defend us in our libel actions. I see them coming, Cairns. To-morrow +rake it into Ebenezer Brown for the state of his premises in Chester +Street; on Saturday draw attention to the insanitary condition of the +best residential part of the town. Keep things moving, and we will make +Grey Town a live community. Then we will turn our attention to +Australia." + +Now, the first sporting editor of "The Mercury" was a handsome man, +clean-shaven and well-dressed, who presented himself to Denis Quirk in +answer to an advertisement in a Melbourne paper. + +"Mr. James Gerard," read Cairns from the card that Tim O'Neill handed to +him that morning. "Have you any idea who Mr. Gerard is?" + +"He says he's 'Trafalgar,' sir; not the battle, sir, but the horse. I +fancy he's dotty, Mr. Cairns; he looks more like a donkey than a horse." + +"Show him in to Mr. Quirk; I have no time for lunatics," said Cairns. + +Mr. James Gerard was accordingly shown into the managers' room. Denis +Quirk was at the moment preparing a speech, for he had already decided +to contest a vacancy on the council. He received his visitor abruptly. + +"What do you want?" he asked. + +"I am 'Trafalgar;' perhaps you have heard of me," said the newcomer. + +"Never!" replied Denis. + +"Hem! I thought you might have seen my nom de plume in the 'Sporting +Chronicle.'" + +"Never heard of it. What do you want?" + +"You advertised for a sporting editor. I have come after the place." + +"Do you know anything about horses?" asked Denis. + +"No one better; I have studied them all my life," replied Gerard. + +"That doesn't say you can write about them. How much do you ask?" + +"Salary is no object to me. Racing is my hobby. I have an income of my +own, and I write as an employment and a pleasure." + +"If you come to me you will have to accept a salary, much as it may pain +you. You will be a servant, and do exactly as I ask. Are you prepared +for that?" said the manager. + +"Naturally! Why would I be here if I were not prepared for that?" + +"Very well, then. You will begin at L4 a week, to be increased if you +suit us; if you don't suit, out you go. When are you prepared to begin?" + +"To-day, if you like." + +"To-morrow you can go to Melton and report the meeting. See that you are +spicy; we expect spice on this paper." + +"Trafalgar's" first report did not satisfy the manager. + +"See here, Mr. Gerard," he said, entering the outer office, where +"Trafalgar" was already fraternising with Desmond O'Connor, "'The +Mercury' is out to put down fraud and hypocrisy wherever it is to be +found. I sent you to Melton to draw public attention to irregularities. +Why did Caprice run last in the Melton Cup?" + +"Not quite fit," replied the sporting editor glibly. "I was talking to +Carter----." + +"Talking to her trainer and asking his opinion! That's not what we want +here. Last week Caprice started at 6 to 4 on and won the Welter Handicap +at Balnogan; yesterday she was quoted at 5 to 1, and ran last in the +Melton Cup. Sit down and mention those two facts together, leaving the +readers to draw their own deductions, as I do." + +"Are you looking for libel actions?" asked "Trafalgar," innocently. + +"Not looking for them, but quite prepared for them in a just cause. Did +you read my speech last night?" + +"I have not found time," stammered the sporting editor, while Desmond +O'Connor sat listening with a broad smile on his face. + +"Oblige me by reading it. It represents my policy, and the policy of +this paper. We call a spade a spade on 'The Mercury.' Just read that +speech, and then sit down and write about Caprice. You can mention the +running of Bailiff in the Hurdles at the same time. If the stewards +won't do their duty, 'The Mercury' will point it out to them." + +In this manner was Gerard introduced to the policy of Denis Quirk and +his paper. He was, however, a smart man, quite capable of grasping a +situation when it was demonstrated to him. In a few weeks' time the +clever division began to read the accounts of their acts of brigandage +with fear and trembling; obsequious stewards became more alert, and less +timid in dealing with glaring acts of fraud, while threats were openly +indulged in, and actions for libel suggested. But Denis Quirk and his +paper went on their prescribed course, regardless of threats, and +awaiting libel actions that failed to come. + +There was no lack of excitement in Grey Town in those days. Men did not +go about wearily, and sigh because there was nothing in the papers. +There were times of stress and battle in the town when Denis Quirk and +"The Mercury" fought with sloth, indifference, and vested interests; +times when he was rarely at home with the old people, because he had +many and important things to do, to say, and to write about in the town. + +But Gerard dropped quietly into a position of family friend and +confidential adviser at "Layton." He was introduced by Denis Quirk, and, +being a man of comparative leisure, it became his habit to spend a part +of his leisure at the house, and to accompany Mrs. Quirk and Kathleen +O'Connor when they went out to find amusement. To this Denis Quirk +readily assented, for he was more at ease among the men and women who +worked than among those who played. Desmond O'Connor, too, was +shouldering the burden of stern responsibility, and someone had to look +after Mrs. Quirk and Kathleen. Who could better do this than Gerard, a +harmless and pleasant man in Denis Quirk's eyes? + +This was the first male friendship of Kathleen O'Connor. Here was a man +who told her the history of his lifetime, not discursively, but in +fragments dropped here and there. There is pleasure, entertainment, and +pathos in every man's life, no matter who he may be. Gerard had lived +more adventurously than many others. He was a man who could make love +charmingly, one who had been liberally educated. There were many +pleasing reminiscences, many sad incidents in his past, and he had a +happy method of speaking of such events. + +This is the manner in which love sometimes comes to man and woman, not, +as it is often pictured, as a sudden passion, but slowly and in stages. +Gerard loved easily and lightly; he had already had his grand passions, +and the current of his life ran none the less pleasantly because of +them. To make love to a pretty girl was nothing to him, merely another +passing incident. But a man was an event to Kathleen O'Connor, an +admirer something hitherto unknown. She had laughed and flirted with +boyish admirers, as girls do; but such events are mere ripples on the +surface of passion. The love and admiration of a man are to such things +a vast upheaval of the depths of the ocean. + +There was at this time one person who cordially disliked Gerard, +probably the only one in Grey Town. This was Molly Healy, and she had +great difficulty to find a reason for her antipathy to the sporting +editor of "The Mercury." After her first meeting with Gerard, she +expressed her sentiments to Kathleen O'Connor unreservedly, as was her +way. + +"I couldn't bear to have that man near me," she said. + +Kathleen was, in those days, perfectly unbiassed in her opinion of +Gerard. He was to her merely a new acquaintance, but she found him +pleasant and well-informed. Laughingly, she asked: + +"Why not?" + +"He is too spick and span for me," said Molly, "and altogether too +smiling. He has got no soul." + +These sentiments she cherished doggedly, and expressed on every +occasion, to his face and behind his back. As the romance began to take +possession of Kathleen, she found it hard not to resent Molly's +criticism. Mrs. Quirk went so far as to scold Molly relentlessly for her +expressions of dislike, but the girl only laughed at her: + +"Sure, you are too young and innocent. You don't know the wickedness +there is in the world. But I have been taking lessons from every +guttersnipe and old good-for-nought in the town. There's wickedness in +Gerard's eye, and in his nose too." + +Desmond O'Connor was a particular friend of his brother scribe, but the +acquaintance was not for the boy's good. Gerard taught him to drink more +than he should, and to gamble for money that he could not afford to +lose. While these facts were unknown in the semi-retirement of "Layton," +they speedily came to Molly Healy's ears. She acted with a customary +impulse that was imprudent with such a nature as Desmond O'Connor's. One +morning on his way to "The Mercury" office he was stopped by Molly. + +"Desmond," she said, "what is this I am hearing of you?" + +Desmond met her laughingly, for he seldom took Molly Healy seriously. + +"Something wonderful?" he said. + +"Something you should be ashamed of! Look there at old Mason." + +She pointed to where an old man was crossing the road, a dilapidated +wreck of humanity, for Mason was the champion drunkard of Grey Town. + +"It is such an old man as that you will become," said Molly. + +Desmond flushed crimson at her words, and he turned in repressed fury on +her. + +"Mind your own business," he said. "Reform your old age pensioners, and +kindly allow me to look after myself." + +Therewith he went on his way, leaving her to look after him with tears +in her eyes. + +"Wouldn't I give my life for Desmond!" she thought, as she watched him +until he turned a corner. For his part, indignation overcame every other +feeling. He was sufficiently young to resent interference, and to forget +for the moment the bonds of friendship that bound him to Molly Healy. + +Turning to climb upwards to the Presbytery, the girl met Denis Quirk. +Like Kathleen O'Connor, Molly Healy was not quite sure how she regarded +the manager of "The Mercury." He was always brusque and unapproachable, +yet she infinitely preferred his attitude to the polish of Gerard. + +"Looking at Desmond?" he laughed. + +"And why not? Isn't it a pleasure to look at a handsome man?" she +answered. + +"I hope you gave him a good talking to. My mother says that Molly Healy +is the one that can do that," he said. + +"Wait until you are standing for Parliament, and then you will see what +Molly Healy can do," she replied. "But you should look after that boy, +or he will get into mischief so deep that there will be no getting him +out." + +"I have an eye on him, never fear," he said, and left her abruptly, to +her infinite amusement. + +"Denis Quirk has no manners, but he doesn't mean any harm," she told her +brother. "It is only his way; a hard crust, but a good wholesome crumb." + +That very morning Denis Quirk summoned Desmond into his room. + +"See here," he said, "we are not teetotal on this paper, but we know +where to stop. It's time you stopped. Make a note of that." + +"Perhaps I had better go," cried Desmond in a passion. + +"I don't actually say that, for there's good stuff in you, but if you +can't behave, you can't go too soon," said Denis. + +Cairns was standing near the door, and he heard these exchanges. He had +a very kindly feeling for Desmond, and when the reporter came from Denis +Quirk's room Cairns drew him into his own. + +"Quirk is blunt, but he is true," he said. "He sees that you are going +the way of many another real good fellow, and he wants to pull you up +short. Don't ruin a promising life, Desmond. Give Gerard a wide berth; +he's a bad companion for a man like you." + +"Gerard is a good fellow. What have you against him?" cried Desmond. + +"He is altogether too good a fellow for a penniless reporter that has a +place to win in the world," said Cairns. + +"He is the only white man in Grey Town!" said Desmond. + +Remonstrance was thrown away on the boy. One night he staggered into the +office in a half-drunken condition, and the following day he disappeared +into the dark oblivion that we term "the world," taking with him a +letter of recommendation from Cairns to the editor of a metropolitan +paper. + +"I recommend you for your talent, not for your bad habits. See that you +cure them, or Smythe will shoot you out as Quirk has done," said Cairns. + +But he gave the boy five pounds to help him while he was looking for +work. + +Desmond O'Connor was the first victim to the friendship of John Gerard. +There were other young men who owed their downfall to him, not that he +bore any one of his victims malice; he was merely a man with a full +purse, and a lover of good-fellowship. "Let the young beggars look after +themselves. All that I ask is good company. It is not my place to teach +men morals," he said to one who remonstrated with him. + +In the same spirit he continued to court Kathleen O'Connor, enjoying +placidly the game of love, and perfectly regardless as to the result. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +DAYS OF STORM AND STRESS. + + +It was during breakfast at "Layton" that Kathleen O'Connor attacked +Denis Quirk on the subject of his treatment of Desmond. Mrs. Quirk was +breakfasting in bed; her husband had scrambled through his meal, and +rushed out to superintend the making of a drain, leaving Denis alone +with the girl. He had noticed her silence and aloofness, sure signs of +displeasure, and, as was his way, he calmly faced her in the moment of +bitter resentment. + +"You are angry with me?" he asked abruptly. + +"Why should I be? I have no claims upon your kindness," she answered. + +"He had to go, for his own sake," he said, going straight to the point +without explanation. "It was the only hope of saving him." + +She did not answer, but her eyes filled with tears, vainly though she +tried to repress them. Denis Quirk feigned not to see them. + +"In Grey Town he must be ruined," he said, not unkindly. + +"And what will he do alone in a great city, with no one to advise him?" +she cried. + +"Fight it out and win, if he is made of the stuff I believe to be in +him. He had enemies here who were ruining him, body and soul." + +"He had one friend at least in Mr. Gerard," she said. + +"We had better not discuss Gerard," he replied, rising quietly. + +"Mr. Gerard has told me----," she began. + +"Never believe a hostile witness until he has safely stood the fire of +cross-examination," he remarked, oracularly. + +"Oh, it was cruel not to give the boy just one chance!" she cried. "My +heart is breaking for him!" + +Therewith she rose and left the room. Denis took out his pipe and filled +it. Then he went to "The Mercury" office, smoking thoughtfully. The +first person to meet him on his arrival was John Gerard. + +"What do you want with me?" asked Denis Quirk, abruptly. + +"Just to hand in my resignation. I have other schemes on hand, and +cannot find the necessary time to your work," replied Gerard. + +Denis Quirk noted the absence of the customary suavity and deference in +the way in which Gerard addressed him. + +"Right you are! Come to me in five minutes for your cheque. You have +saved yourself dismissal," he said. + +"Are you dismissing the whole staff?" asked Gerard. + +"Only the useless ones," replied Denis quietly, as he entered the room. + +"Your cheque--and the door, you durned skunk!" he said, five minutes +later. Gerard was on the point of retorting furiously, but one look at +the strong, ugly face and sturdy figure convinced him of the wisdom of +silence until he was actually on the doorstep of the office. Then he +said: + +"You will have to deal with me yet, Mr. Denis Quirk." + +"I am quite capable of doing that," replied Denis, smilingly. + +Thus did "The Mercury" lose its first sporting editor. + +In the quiet of his office Denis Quirk sat for fully five minutes +thinking, a most unusual thing for him to do, and, more unusual still, +thinking of a woman. He checked himself abruptly with the half-muttered +words: + +"Well, she must battle through alone: I can't help her." + +Then he began to write a letter to a friend in Melbourne: + + + "'The Mercury,' Grey Town. + + "January 17, 19--. + + "Dear Jackson,--There is a young fellow now in Melbourne, one + Desmond O'Connor, a wild, harum-scarum, but of good stuff. You will + find him at Mrs. Tippett's, 102 The Grove, Upper Hawthorn. Look him + up, if you still love me, and take him under your care. Find him a + place in your office; he has the necessary qualifications. He is a + journalist, but I foresee ruin in that line for Desmond. Supply his + immediate needs, and draw upon me, but invent some pious fiction to + account for the capital--a dead maiden aunt or any other apocryphal + person you like. If he thinks that the money comes from me, ten to + one he will have none of it. Make him keep himself as far as + possible by his own brains, and never offer the boy whisky. If you + do this for me, I shall recognise that you are the same good old + Jackson, whom I am proud to call a friend.--Yours sincerely, + + "DENIS QUIRK." + + +As he closed the note and handed it to Tim O'Neill, Molly Healy entered +the office. Like Kathleen O'Connor, she resented Denis Quirk's treatment +of Desmond, and she had come to express her sentiments openly. + +"Are you busy?" she asked. + +"Not more so than usual; a pile of advertisements and correspondence, a +few proofs to glance at, and a council committee at ten. I can spare you +five minutes," he answered. + +"I have not come to talk gently to you," said Molly. "I think you should +be ashamed of yourself for your treatment of Desmond O'Connor." + +"Now, Miss Molly, have you considered this question carefully? Just sit +down for five minutes, and hear me explain it to you." + +Molly Healy took a chair reluctantly, her face expressing a +determination not to be convinced. + +"Desmond O'Connor," he said, and all the while he was stamping and +closing envelopes, "came under the influence of a man----." + +"Gerard!" she cried, interrupting him. + +"John Gerard. If he had remained here that influence must have ruined +him." + +"And could you not separate the two?" she asked. + +"Not I, nor you; not even Father Healy. Desmond was gambling, he was +beginning to drink; he would have degenerated into an habitual +drunkard----." + +"I as much as told him that myself," said Molly Healy. + +"Outside there," he pointed to the window towards the east, "in +Melbourne, lies the boy's chance. It was not for my sake I sent him +packing. That boy was useful to me, and I can never replace him; but +better 'The Mercury' should suffer than he and Kathleen O'Connor." + +"Well, you're not a bad sort of man," she remarked. "Your heart's better +than your face." + +Denis Quirk laughed heartily at her remark. + +"You don't like my face?" he remarked. "Haven't I been called the +ugliest man in Grey Town? And proud I am of it." + +"Good-day!" cried Molly Healy. "I will not ruin your paper, after all, +as I had intended doing. But my heart is sore for poor Desmond--out +there." + +She, in turn, pointed towards the east before she left the office. + +This day was spent by Denis Quirk in fighting. In the council committee +he came into conflict with the man whom he regarded as the greatest +opponent to the progress of Grey Town. This was Councillor Garnett, and +he was not above the suspicion that he made use of his privileges to +further his own ends. Apart from this, he was at once narrow-minded and +obstinate. For such men as he Denis Quirk had no mercy. + +The council of Grey Town was not unlike other municipal councils--its +members honest for the greater part, but many of them men who followed +old traditions, and believed that quiet things should not be moved. For +many years they had lived under a system of accepting the imperfect, and +never attempting to make it more perfect. Of these easy-going, +self-satisfied gentlemen Councillor Garnett was the chief. + +This special meeting of the council had been summoned to consider the +condition of the roads in the town. Year after year the council had +spent less money on the roads than they deserved, and year after year +the roads had degenerated. At this time they were deplorable, and Denis +Quirk had compelled his fellow-councillors to take action. After a drive +around the town, they met to discuss ways and means, and then occurred a +scene that was the first skirmish in a fierce campaign. + +At this time Denis Quirk stood practically alone. Opposed to him was a +body of resolute Conservatives; between the two factions, a few who +hesitated, favouring Denis Quirk rather than Councillor Garnett. The +debate began gently, but it ended in such a storm as the municipal +council chamber had never witnessed before. + +The mayor, a kindly man, was at his wits' end to keep the peace. Again +and again he called the two parties to order, until finally the meeting +broke up, Denis Quirk having been defeated. + +But he was the last man to accept defeat. From the municipal chambers he +hurried round the town to convene an indignation meeting for the +following week. Meanwhile he laid his case before the public in the +columns of "The Mercury." This accomplished, he turned home to "Layton." + +Councillor Garnett was hand in glove with Ebenezer Brown, and the latter +was, above all things, a good hater. He had little cause to love Denis +Quirk, and he possessed not a little power in the town, gained by +illicit means. In those days there were factions in Grey Town, as there +always will be where progress confronts stagnation. The skirmishes and +battles were fought over mere trifles, but they were fought none the +less bitterly for that reason. Day after day Denis Quirk found himself +defeated; yet day after day he gained strength, a member here and there +from the doubtful councillors, and public approbation abroad. + +But at home in "Layton" he was not happy, for he recognised relentless +hostility on the part of Kathleen O'Connor, and he realised that John +Gerard was too intimate with the girl. It was not for him to remonstrate +with her. He had no right to speak, no reasons to advance against +Gerard, beyond an unreasoning antipathy. In his heart of hearts he +believed that Gerard, now an agent in the town, was a worthless fellow, +but such unproven beliefs are useless. He could only look on hopelessly, +and trust that time would put things straight. + +Desmond O'Connor paid a flying visit to "Layton" in the summer. He came +quite unexpectedly, and surprised Kathleen one afternoon when she was +reading to Mrs. Quirk out in the garden. Molly Healy was there, too, +cutting flowers for the church, returning every now and again to +interrupt the reading. + +Desmond O'Connor came walking up the avenue, lined by trees and shrubs, +and paused to look at the group on the green lawn under the shade of a +large elm tree. He looked fresh and bright in his face, although it had +lost some of the tan associated with country life. His eye was clear, +and his step free; there was the dignity of self-respect in the way in +which he carried himself. + +Molly Healy was the first to see him. Shading her eyes with her hand to +avoid the glare of the sun, she took one look at him. Then she dropped +her basket of flowers, and hurried towards him, crying: + +"It is Desmond himself!" + +Kathleen sprang up and dropped her book. The two girls hastened to meet +him. + +"Take him away to your room, Kathleen," said Mrs. Quirk, when she had +welcomed Desmond. "I can look after myself, and you have much to talk +about." + +"Let me look after you, Granny," cried Molly Healy; but she cast a +regretful eye at Kathleen and Desmond. + +"No, Molly; you can come with us and hear what he has to say for +himself," said Kathleen. + +"May I, then? But I would only be in the way," suggested Molly. + +"Not one bit, Molly. Come and listen to my wonderful tale of +adventure--a story of robbers slain, wild animals subdued, good fairies +and witches," said Desmond. + +"I hope you are minding your soul. It is a dangerous place for young +men, is Melbourne," said Mrs. Quirk. + +"Oh, that's all right," replied Desmond, airily. "I am not on the side +of the saints or the sinners." + +Molly Healy noted this reply, but she abstained from commenting on it. +She was shrewd enough to recognise that the man who boasts of +lukewarmness is generally something less than tepid. + +"You will be coming to see the Father?" she suggested. + +"You must make my excuses, Molly. I am here to-day and back in Melbourne +to-morrow. I have fallen on my feet. Where do you think I am working?" +he asked Kathleen as they walked towards the house. + +"On a paper," she suggested. + +"No; in an advertising agency, the biggest in Melbourne, drawing posters +for them, and helping in the business. I shall be a partner before long. +Jackson, the boss, has been a good friend to me, and Mrs. Jackson might +be a mother, and Sylvia--a sister." + +The hesitation that preceded the latter part of this speech was not +lost upon Molly Healy. It caused her a spasm of pain that was sharp, if +it was only short-lived, for she was a girl, if a sensible and healthy +one, and she always had greatly admired Desmond O'Connor. + +In the dining-room they sat down close together. + +"I am glad you have such good friends? How did you find them?" asked +Kathleen. + +"I can't for the life of me discover that. Jackson came to see me and +offered to help me. I rather fancy Gerard must have sent him." + +"Gerard!" cried Molly Healy, scornfully. "Do you fancy he would take so +much trouble? It is 'out of sight as good as buried' with Gerard." + +Kathleen O'Connor flushed up at these words, but refrained from reply. +Desmond answered banteringly: + +"You will hate to the end, Molly?" + +"Sure, my hates are as enduring as my loves," said Molly. "You can +always know how you will find Molly Healy." + +"I don't think you are quite fair to Gerard," said Desmond. + +"Now, tell us about--Sylvia Jackson, Desmond," said Kathleen, anxious to +terminate the discussion. + +"Sylvia Jackson," he answered, with an assumed carelessness, that was in +itself suspicious to the critical ears of Molly Healy. "Why are you so +anxious to hear about her?" + +"Is she pretty?" asked Kathleen. + +Molly Healy watched him curiously, and noted a certain embarrassment in +his face. + +"That is a question of taste. Some people consider her pretty," he +answered. + +"And why not say that Desmond O'Connor is one of those people? Of course +she is pretty, Kathleen, and charming and kind to Desmond. Didn't he say +so? Are you kind to her, Desmond?" cried Molly. + +"Kind to her?" he replied, with a species of horror in his voice, as if +one of his most sacred convictions had been criticised. "One cannot be +kind to a girl like Sylvia Jackson." + +"And why not kind?" asked Molly. + +"I admire and respect--in fact, I almost reverence--her. She is so"--he +paused for a suitable word--"so ethereal. She is more like a spirit than +a piece of common human nature." + +Molly Healy was with great difficulty attempting to restrain a giggle. +She recognised that to give her amusement full play would be to +grievously annoy him. For this reason she turned to look out of the +window, thrusting her handkerchief into her mouth the while. + +"Does she play?" asked Kathleen. + +"She plays and sings divinely. She does everything well. To dance with +her--is----." + +He ended abruptly, not being capable of giving full expression to his +sensations when dancing with Sylvia Jackson. + +"Denis Quirk!" cried Molly Healy, and climbed through the window. It +was a relief to her to give her mirth full vent. + +"Ethereal! Poor Desmond! I wonder will he recover?" she laughed. + +"You will not be rude to him?" Kathleen asked her brother anxiously. + +He laughed unrestrainedly. All resentment against Denis Quirk was long +forgotten, for his anger was short-lived. + +"I regard him as a benefactor. He has released me from the thraldom of +Grey Town and introduced me to the larger life," he answered. + +"Whatever you do, don't speak to him of Sylvia, or I shall laugh," cried +Molly on meeting Denis Quirk. + +"You are speaking Dutch puzzles, Miss Molly. Who and what are he and +Sylvia?" he answered. + +"Desmond O'Connor is him, and Sylvia a spirit, just a woman that's +ethereal and a spirit. I am thinking poor Desmond is love sick." + +Desmond followed Molly through the window, and came with outstretched +hand to meet his former chief. Kathleen O'Connor, watching from the +window, admired her brother's magnanimity. She would herself have unbent +to Denis long ago had it not been for Gerard's influence, and for the +dread lest her brother should be lost in the darkness of the great city +life. + +Denis took the proffered hand and wrung it cordially. One glance at the +open face convinced him that his plan had proved successful; the drink +fiend had been exorcised. + +"And how is Melbourne treating you?" he asked. + +"Better than I deserve. I have found good work and good friends," +replied Desmond. + +"I knew you would come out all right, lad," said Denis, kindly. "What is +your work--papers or politics?" + +"Nothing so grand; just advertising." + +"Then you are at the very top, for advertising is the great power these +times. You will make and unmake kings and emperors of commerce." + +Kathleen O'Connor was that evening kinder and more gracious to Denis +Quirk than she had been since Desmond had gone away. Mrs. Quirk, who had +noted their estrangement with wondering sorrow, smiled placidly as she +heard them laughing, while Molly Healy and Desmond exchanged jests +together. + +"You are not cross with Denis now, Honey?" she asked the girl after the +two men had left the house--Denis for his office, and Desmond for the +hotel. "He is good at heart, if sometimes quick in his temper." + +Molly Healy, who was preparing to drive home in Father Healy's jinker, +cried out: + +"Denis is a great man! His heart is as big as your own, Granny!" + +Kathleen kissed the old lady as she answered: + +"I could not long be cross with anyone whom you loved." + +"God reward you, Honey, for your kindness to an old woman," said Mrs. +Quirk, lovingly. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +RUMOUR, HYDRA-HEADED. + + +Ebenezer Brown lived a lonely life in an old house on the outskirts of +the town, the large garden surrounded by a high stone wall. There was +always a feeling of gloom about the house, no sound of voices, for +Ebenezer Brown was a bachelor, with no relations to care for him, and +only one elderly female to provide for his comfort. A venturesome +relation had on one occasion taken advantage of the old man's sickness +to attempt to secure a footing in his house; but no sooner was the old +man out of his bed than the relative was to be seen driving to the +station with her luggage. Warned by her fate, no other relation, male or +female, dared to enter the house. + +It was seldom that lights were seen to gleam from the windows of the +house. Still more uncommon was it to find visitors assembled there. The +old man had a place of business in the town, and anyone wishing to see +him might find him there. He discouraged visitors, for visitors +suggested hospitality, and hospitality represented the expenditure of +money, the one and only thing that the old man valued. + +Lights were, however, twinkling from Ebenezer Brown's dining room out +into the night a few evenings subsequently to Desmond O'Connor's visit +to Grey Town. A meagre attempt at hospitality had been made for the +visitors, a scanty supply of water biscuits, a few apples of an antique +appearance, with a bottle of limejuice and water. But not one of the +guests was sufficiently hungry or thirsty to taste of the good things +provided for them. + +They sat around the large, bare table, Ebenezer Brown and his three +guests, Garnett, Gifford and Gerard--the three G's, as Denis Quirk had +nicknamed them. Ebenezer Brown half leaned on the table, his face +peculiarly white and eyes very bright in the light of an incandescent +gas burner. + +"Every man has a past, if you can unearth it. The greater the saint, the +worse his past. Eh, Garnett?" he asked. + +It was noticeable that Garnett refrained from any direct answer; +possibly even he had had a past. + +"That play," continued Ebenezer. "What did you call it?" he asked +Gerard. + +"Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." + +Ebenezer Brown's hearing was exceptionally acute to-night. + +"That's the one!" he cried; "and it's true to nature. There's good in a +few and bad in all. Eh, Gifford?" + +"Unhappily there is," sighed Gifford. + +"This man, Quirk," cried the old man, vindictively, "has a past, if we +can discover it. We must rid ourselves of him; he's a public nuisance, a +dangerous, meddlesome fellow. Always poking his nose into something; +always making things unpleasant. Quirk must go!" + +"Quirk," said Garnett, in the slow and sententious manner he adopted, +"is a radical and a demagogue, a positive scourge to the town. As you +say, Quirk must go!" + +Ebenezer Brown turned to Gerard this time and asked him: + +"Are you prepared to make the necessary enquiries for us?" + +"Certainly, if you are prepared to pay the necessary expenses," replied +Gerard, carelessly. + +Ebenezer Brown winced at this, but his hatred of Denis Quirk was an +absorbing passion now. + +"Garnett and I will share the expenses." + +Garnett protested feebly, but the old man overbore him triumphantly. + +"Garnett and I will pay," he said. + +"Let me have it in writing," said Gerard, producing a typewritten paper +from his pocket. + +Ebenezer Brown read it through carefully; then, after one or two +protests as to the amount, he prepared to sign it, but he paused, +saying: + +"No evidence; no pay?" + +Gerard looked the old man full in the face, and answered: + +"You can add that. I promise you full and convincing evidence." + +The deed was signed and witnessed to by Gifford and the old housekeeper, +aroused from her sleep for the purpose. A few minutes later the three +G's were leaving the house. As they emerged from the gate the bright +head lights of a motor picked them out distinctly, before the car swept +by, leaving a blacker darkness behind it. + +"Did you see those three, Cairns?" asked Denis Quirk, who was racing +towards "The Mercury" office in company with his editor. "There's +mischief on foot when you see insects like those together." + +"Ebenezer Brown has been having a card party," laughed Cairns. "Cards +and wine." + +"And light talk? It's a pity there is no law for the destruction of +vermin of the human sort!" + +"Did you see who was in the car?" Garnett asked Gerard. + +"I think it was Quirk himself and Cairns," replied Gerard. "Probably +they have been writing an article about you; something hot and strong. +Quirk knows where to strike, and he hits hard." + +Garnett's comment was hurled into the surrounding darkness; but his +companions heard it and laughed. + +"I expect to return in six months' time," said Gerard; "possibly sooner. +Another six weeks later, and 'The Mercury' will probably need a new +proprietor. Why not buy it yourself and make me the editor, with Gifford +under me? You might do worse." + +Outside the first hotel he suggested a drink. Gifford refused to enter +the bar, and went on towards his home; the others walked into the +private bar and called for whisky and soda. + +"Did you ever see such a miser as Ebenezer Brown?" Gerard asked. "Dry +biscuits, dry apples, and that sour stuff! It makes me sick to see a +man like him, with all his money. He won't enjoy it here--nor hereafter, +if there is a hereafter," he added. + +Garnett, a strict Calvinist, winced at the remark, but passed it over. +Gerard was too useful a man to quarrel with. + +And so these two worthies walked home, laughing together, while Denis +Quirk and Cairns were preparing fresh powder and shot for the campaign +against reaction. When Councillor Garnett read the leading article in +"The Mercury" on "Ways and Means," after the first irritation he smiled +grimly. + +"This can't go on for ever. We shall wear them out," he remarked to his +wife. + +There was yet another question in the town, about which the feeling ran +high and bitterly. The council was desirous of building a more imposing +town hall, and the land they desired belonged to Ebenezer Brown. +Naturally, he asked twice the just value for it, and, as was now the +commonly accepted course of events, Councillor Garnett supported him. +Denis Quirk and the councillors, who now followed him, set resolutely to +work to prevent this spoliation. Had Denis not been there, the public +would have grumblingly accepted the purchase of the land. As it was, he +roused them to such a pitch of resentment that the price was slowly +reduced until it finally remained at one and a quarter times the +rightful value of the block. At this price the council purchased it. + +During the conflict party feeling ran high, and personalities were +indulged in. It was at this time that the scandal was first whispered. + +Who originated it, no one knew, but it flew from mouth to mouth, and it +was not the less grim for the constant repetition. Denis Quirk had a +past--an evil past--so evil indeed that his wife had divorced him in the +States. At this time the story had no substance; it was merely an ugly +rumour. Strange to say, it did not reach Denis Quirk's ears, because his +enemies repeated it among themselves, while his friends refused to +insult him by mentioning the story. + +Father Healy, on hearing it, lost for once his accustomed kindliness. + +"Would you be bringing such tales to me, a priest?" he asked. "Denis +Quirk is a man who goes to his duties; not by any means a saint, but a +good, honest Catholic. Tell the next man or woman who speaks about it +that scandal and detraction are steps in the ladder down to the devil's +kingdom. There are more souls lost that way than you can count." + +The narrator, a well-meaning gossip, left the presbytery in +consternation, and forbore from further repetition of what was to her a +"bonne bouche." But not even Father Healy could keep the tale from +growing in magnitude and increased offensiveness. + +The story came to Kathleen O'Connor's ears, and, curiously enough, she +strongly discredited it. Not that she cared for Denis Quirk, but she had +a strong sense of justice and of probability. She could not believe that +Denis Quirk, whom she regarded as an honourable man, could be guilty of +that of which he was accused. He was a hard man, rugged and deficient +in manners, but, seeing him constantly, she recognised that he was not +the sort of man to commit the crimes of which he was accused. + +For this reason she was kinder to him than ever she had previously been. +Denis Quirk, although he appreciated the fact, never attributed it to +any absurd reason, such as a younger and more conceited man might have +done. In the matter of women he was absolutely humble and wanting in +vanity, for he regarded himself as hopelessly ugly and deficient in the +qualities that charm the female sex. + +But poor old Mrs. Quirk had a romantic idea in her mind that the two +persons she loved best, after her husband, should make her happy by +marriage. She noted the kindlier feeling between them, and one evening +she spoke to Kathleen, most diplomatically as she believed. + +"You are beginning to understand Denis, honey. The more you know him the +better you will like him." + +It was an autumn evening, and the air was beginning to turn chilly. Mrs. +Quirk, who felt the cold, sat near a wood fire. Kathleen was beside the +window. Presently she would slip out to say a few words to Gerard, for +thus far had their intimacy gone that he frequently came and talked to +her in the avenue near the house. And these meetings were unknown to +Mrs. Quirk, who dozed in her chair, or to Samuel Quirk, smoking in his +den. There was nothing in their tetes-a-tetes, no word spoken, no action +done, that was wrong; but there was danger to the girl because of her +very innocence. She was this night working and watching. Outside a +bright moonlight lay on the trees and gardens, making the shadows darker +by the contrast. Gerard, who lurked in the shadow, would presently call +her from one of these. + +"Mr. Denis Quirk is an honourable man, and I respect him," she said. + +"It is near my heart----," Mrs. Quirk began. Then she paused. + +"Yes?" asked Kathleen. + +"Never mind, honey. If it is God's will, He will work it. It is +difficult to arrange things for Providence." + +A low whistle from a deep shadow, like the note of a bird. Mrs. Quirk +fancied it was a bird, but Kathleen rose and slipped out. + +"I shall be gone only a few minutes," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +TEMPTATION. + + +Kathleen O'Connor was walking slowly in the deep shadow of the avenue +with Gerard beside her. There was a stillness everywhere save for the +droning of flying beetles as they hurried past, apparently careless as +to where they might go. Beyond the avenue lawns, gardens, and trees were +distinctly outlined in the bright moonlight. From the pines and from +shrubs and flowers a sweet perfume arose, enervating, intoxicating, but +this was as nothing to the intoxicating power in the words of Gerard. +Never before had he or any man spoken to Kathleen as he did on this +night; never had she felt the same strange thrill as now. Not that his +words were evil or suggestive of evil; they were merely a powerful +appeal to the girl's affections. They appeared to come straight from his +heart, and they had a compelling effect upon her. + +"I am going away from Grey Town to-morrow, Kathleen," he began. + +Her heart sank at these words, for already his visits had come to assume +an important part in her scheme of life. + +"For a long time?" she asked him. + +"For six months. Will you come with me?" + +"I can't leave Mrs. Quirk," she faltered. "Not yet. Wait until you +return." + +"I may never come back," he urged. + +"Surely you cannot expect me to come with you, like this, at a moment's +notice?" she pleaded. + +He put his arm around her, the first time he had touched her, and she +did not shrink from him. + +"You love me, Kathleen. I am sure of it. I cannot wait until I return. +Come with me to Melbourne--now, at once. We shall be married there," he +said, in a low voice. + +"But I can't leave Mrs. Quirk like this. It would be so horribly +ungrateful," she protested. + +"You must!" His arm was more firmly around her. She had the feeling that +she was in his power, that he was exercising some influence over her, +hitherto unknown to her. "I need you more than she." + +"I can't," she answered, more faintly. "Why should we steal away +clandestinely, without telling Mrs. Quirk?" + +"Because I am compelled to go, and I cannot go without you. I will take +you to America, and give you a chance of seeing the world. We shall be +happy together, you and I. Come, Kathleen!" + +They had strolled back along the avenue, and were not far from the +house. + +"Kathleen! Honey!" + +Kathleen could hear Mrs. Quirk's voice calling to her from the house. + +"I must go inside," she urged. + +"No! You must come with me, now, to-night! There is the night express, +and I have a cab waiting for us outside the gate," he answered. There +was mastery in his voice, and she felt that she could not resist. + +"Kathleen! Honey!" cried the voice again. Looking up at the window, she +saw Mrs. Quirk framed in the light as she peered out. + +"I must go! I will!" she said. + +"Come with me," he answered, and began to lead her towards the gate. As +she went the voice became fainter and fainter: her resisting power +weaker. + +They were half-way down the avenue when they heard a man's steps, rapid +and firm. A moment later they could see the figure, though indistinctly, +in the shadow. For one moment Gerard hesitated, then with an oath he +sprang behind a thick shrub, leaving her free. Immediately she was +running towards the house, her heart palpitating, her breath coming and +going in gasps. She felt that she must get away from the temptation. + +In the drawing-room she found Mrs. Quirk still peering anxiously out +into the garden. The old lady did not hear the girl's entry, nor did she +know that Kathleen was present, until the latter went and touched her on +the shoulder; then she turned quickly. + +"I had a dream, honey, a fearsome dream," she said, "that someone was +taking you away from me. Sure, I thought it was," she added, lowering +her voice to a whisper, "the devil! I could see him leading you down the +avenue there, and I awoke calling out to you in terror. When you did +not answer me I went to the window to peer out." + +"No one shall take me away from you," said the girl. "I will stay with +you while you need me." + +She led Mrs. Quirk back to her chair, and placed a cushion behind her. +Then she remained beside her, gently stroking the old lady's hand and +singing to her in a low voice. Thus did Denis Quirk find them when he +entered. + +Little did he know how closely she had approached to destruction. Nor +was he aware that a man crouching behind the shrubs had viewed him with +the acute hatred of disappointment in his heart. Gerard had clenched his +fist in impotent rage, and cursed the man he regarded as an enemy. "I +will be even with you for this, Denis Quirk!" he had muttered to himself +as he went down the dark avenue, after waiting in the vain hope that +Kathleen might return to him. + +Of all this Denis Quirk was ignorant. He had fancied he saw figures as +he came up the avenue, but even of this he was doubtful. Entering the +room, and seeing Kathleen occupied with his mother, his voice became +almost gentle as he said: + +"Miss O'Connor, you are very nearly an angel." + +Kathleen appreciated the kindness of his words and tone, but she did not +look up nor answer him. She had not yet recovered from the scene in the +garden; to speak at this moment might have proved too much for her. + +Denis was, where women are concerned, quite ignorant and simple. Men he +understood, but the female mind was like a strange, unexplored +territory to him. He had a vast respect for women, a respect that +bordered on fear. To conceal this he made use of a brusquerie of speech +and manner that was merely a cloak to his real nervousness. Kathleen +O'Connor he regarded as an ideal of womanly perfection: he placed her on +a pedestal, and paid her his homage secretly. For her part, Kathleen was +beginning to realise that the rough exterior concealed a character +truthful, and not ungentle. Realising this, she had laid aside her +attitude of resentment, and adopted a friendly camaraderie such as may +exist between brother and sister. + +To-night, finding his remarks unanswered, Denis turned to his mother. + +"I have a plan for to-morrow, old lady," he said--"a day off. What do +you say to a boating excursion up the river?" + +Mrs. Quirk was still influenced by the vivid effect of her dream. It had +been peculiarly real, and had left a marked impression on her mind. + +"Will Kathleen be coming?" she asked. + +"Kathleen has not been asked," said the girl in a low voice. + +"Miss O'Connor was included in my plan," said Denis. + +"And will you come, honey? Sure, if I must be drowned, I would like to +have you beside me," said Mrs. Quirk. + +Denis laughed at the reply, and Kathleen could not forbear from a smile. + +"We will all go down together, and lie twined up in the bottom of the +river. It will make the fishes smile to see us," he laughed. "Be +prepared to-morrow, ten sharp." + +Kathleen was sorely tempted to ask his advice in regard to Gerard. +Indeed, she went so far as to call him back as he was leaving the room, +but, when he turned, she asked: + +"Have you any news of Desmond?" + +"The best," he answered. "He is doing well. Did I do right to send him +away?" + +"You did," she said; "but I could not foresee. Shall I thank you now?" + +"No need to do that. I am always at your service." + +"Denis meant that; every word of it all," said Mrs. Quirk, when her +son's footsteps had died away. "He is true to his friends, that boy is." + +"I am sure that he is," replied Kathleen. + +All night she lay between waking and sleeping, the events in the garden +returning constantly to disturb her. She still regarded Gerard as +something more than a friend; to-night she had stood on the threshold of +love. But she was afraid of him; the strange influence he exerted over +her had terrified her. What should she answer when he asked her to marry +him on his return, and what would she do without his companionship while +he was away? The morning found her still wearied with her night's +combat. It brought her a note from Gerard, written prior to his +departure. In it he urged Kathleen to join him in Melbourne, but all the +desire to do this had now left her. Last night in the garden she had +struggled almost vainly against his power, now she was able to realise +the folly and danger of that which he suggested. + +The quiet party up the Grey River, with Denis Quirk rowing and Mrs. +Quirk beside her, while she steered, was soothing to the girl's tired +spirit. + +As they wound in and out of the river bends, now between the frowning +grey rocks that jutted out on each side of the river, and now through +green meadows, where the cows were contentedly browsing, the quiet and +stillness of the day was a sedative to her. Here and there they would +pause to explore a cave, its interior, moist and covered with moss, +extending far into the rocky hill, away out towards the ocean. Now and +again they could obtain a distant view of Grey Town, a blue smoke +hanging about its roofs and church towers. + +Denis Quirk rowed steadily, but without undue exertion, and Kathleen +allowed one hand to trail in the water as she steered with the other. It +was a still day, and the river reflected the sky and the rocks as they +passed; even the cattle standing to drink in places knee deep in the +water were reduplicated. In silence the girl drank in the peacefulness +of the scene, while Denis Quirk cast an occasional remark at his mother +and her. + +About mid-day they drew the boat up on a patch of sand, while they +picnicked on a piece of green meadow land. When that was ended they +drifted slowly down the stream, and returned in the motor to "Layton." + +"Now," cried Denis, when he had assisted his mother and Kathleen out of +the car, "after a day of peace to return to war and strife. Don't you +feel better for the day off. Miss O'Connor?" + +"Much better. Why is not every day like to-day?" Kathleen asked. + +"We should not appreciate it properly. Work and play in thin slices +makes life an appetising sandwich. Good-night, and pleasant dreams." + +He turned to the chauffeur and told him to drive him to the "Mercury" +office. There he flung off his coat, and directed the staff with an +energy that was almost superhuman. With Denis Quirk and Cairns to +control the paper, it was not to be marvelled at if the Grey Town people +boasted of their daily paper. + +Sometimes Ebenezer Brown, smarting over an exceptionally vigorous +attack, vowed that he would start his old paper in opposition; but a +short reflection showed him the hopelessness of such an undertaking. + +"Wait until Gerard returns!" he said, rubbing his thin hands together. +"Then we shall see Quirk crumble up and fall into pieces. Take away a +man's reputation and you destroy him here in Grey Town." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +SYLVIA JACKSON. + + +"Marry? Why should I? I am perfectly happy as I am. My father dotes on +me and gives me everything I ask for. I know at least a score of men who +regard me as the last thing in feminine perfection. I am perfectly +content to remain as I am." + +Sylvia Jackson, fair haired, ethereal, as Desmond O'Connor had described +her, with large, rather sleepy, blue eyes, looked at Kathleen O'Connor +in surprise. + +"But you may fall in love," suggested Kathleen. + +"Love? I really don't know what it means. I have always liked to have a +few men about me and know that they will do whatever I ask, even to +destroying themselves. But the passion is on their side." + +The two girls were sitting in Kathleen's room, in evening dress, as they +had come from the annual club ball in Grey Town. There was a fire in the +grate, a lamp in a corner of the room was lighted and half turned up, +but it shed a very subdued light on the room. + +Kathleen remembered that Desmond had done his utmost at the ball to +monopolise Sylvia Jackson, that they had disappeared for a considerable +portion of the evening. She could still see her brother's flushed face +and sparkling eyes as he returned from some dark corner with Sylvia on +his arm. She had hoped to hear an avowal of love from Mrs. Quirk's +guest. + +"I fancied----," she began in a disappointed voice. + +"Of course I like Desmond," said Sylvia Jackson, divining her thought. +"He is so fresh and unconventional that we all like him at home. He is +the very nicest boy I know; but I am like a mother or an elder sister to +him. Why, I am centuries older than Desmond, not in actual years, but in +knowledge of the world. I shall find him a charming girl-wife, like you +are, but I shall always expect him to remain on my staff." + +"After he is married?" cried Kathleen. + +"Why not? It is a recognised thing, I assure you. But I suppose we must +go to bed. What an ugly man Mr. Denis Quirk is! Really, he is the +ugliest man I ever met!" + +"That is because you don't know him. Mr. Quirk's face is the worst part +of him," said Kathleen. + +"I have a dread of ugly men. I select my staff with particular attention +to good looks. What queer old people those Quirks are! The old woman +should be in the kitchen; I am sure she would feel more at home there." + +Now, if there was one subject upon which Kathleen felt keenly, it was +the virtues of Mrs. Quirk. She well knew that the old lady was laughed +at and derided behind her back; but no one had dared hitherto to speak +disrespectfully of her to Kathleen's face. Reddening slightly, she +answered: + +"Mrs. Quirk is the best and kindest woman I know; if you really wish to +be friends with me, don't say a word against her. I shall quarrel with +anyone who does that." + +"Don't quarrel with me, please! I am far too lazy for that. I always +agree with everybody, and for your sake Mr. Denis Quirk shall be +handsome, and Mrs. Quirk as refined as she is rich." + +It had been Mrs. Quirk's suggestion that Sylvia Jackson should be +invited to "Layton," and Sylvia, being at the time rather hipped at +home, accepted the invitation readily. Desmond O'Connor, on hearing of +her intended visit, managed to obtain a few days' holiday, and arrive in +Grey Town in time for the club ball. There he had her undivided +attention, an impossible thing to achieve in Melbourne. But the fact did +not make her less elusive. She laughed at him when he became too tender, +allowed him a certain degree of liberty to check him when he approached +the question of love. She was always gracious and kind to him, as to +every other man; in this way she prevented her staff from deserting her; +but, while she loved to be admired, she had expressed her true +sentiments to Kathleen as they sat together after the ball. + +For his part, Desmond O'Connor lived in a fever heat of passion. To hint +that Sylvia was not perfection was to make him an implacable enemy. She +so far encouraged him as to make him believe that the barrier between +them was the most fragile and easily broken affair, and that at any +moment it would be shattered by his great love. Relying on this hope, +he came and went at her bidding, filling to perfection the duties of an +obedient staff officer. + +On the morning after the dance, Kathleen met Sylvia in a somewhat +hostile spirit. She resented Desmond's devotion to the girl, and she had +been hurt by the allusions to Mrs. Quirk; but Sylvia did her utmost to +dispel this feeling. + +"I am sure you are cross with me," she said, "and I want you to like me. +I think you are the most charming girl I have ever met. For your sake I +intend to cultivate even Mr. Denis Quirk, and to make love to that dear +old woman." + +This programme she began to carry out scrupulously. To Mrs. Quirk she +was most attentive, and on Denis she exercised her fascinations, to his +intense surprise. + +"Do you walk into town?" she asked him. + +"Sometimes I do. It depends on the state of my liver. When I feel in a +desperate temper and inclined to destroy the whole world, myself +included, I walk into town; at other times I ride in the car." + +"Are you walking to-day?" she asked him. + +"I am," he answered. + +"Then I intend to walk with you, if I may," she said. + +"You won't enjoy it a bit. It is all that I can do to prevent myself +from snapping my own nose off," said Denis. + +"Oh, that does not matter a bit. You couldn't make me angry if you +tried. Will you come with us, Kathleen?" + +"I am afraid I can't leave Mrs. Quirk. But I will meet you in town, and +we will have lunch together," said Kathleen. + +"Come with us," said Denis Quirk, almost despairingly. "The mother will +get on for once without you." + +"I flatter myself that Mrs. Quirk will be quite miserable without me," +she answered, laughingly. "I have a very good opinion of myself, Mr. +Quirk; I feel that I am necessary to one person in the world." + +But she watched them as they walked down the avenue, wondering what they +were laughing about, perhaps a little bit annoyed at Sylvia Jackson's +presumption in forcing herself on Denis Quirk. + +Sylvia Jackson was very adaptable, where men were concerned. She rarely +found any great difficulty in securing the attention of a man, old or +young, when she desired so to do. It was her way to find out where a +man's special vanity lay. If he were so singular as to have no +particular vanity, she would discover wherein his interests were centred +and attack him through that avenue. So skilful was she, so insinuating +in her flattery and in her questions, that she rarely failed to secure +admiration as a woman of singular penetration. She had the gift of being +able to listen with apparent interest to a conversation, throwing in the +necessary question here and there. When it was necessary to talk, she +could change her tactics and make conversation for the shy, reserved +man. + +They had not gone far to-day before Denis Quirk said to himself: "This +is a clever woman." He was not far wrong in this appreciation, for +Sylvia Jackson was undoubtedly clever. Before they had come to Grey Town +the two were laughing and joking with one another as though they had +known each other for years. For a woman to arrive at such intimate +relations with Denis Quirk in a short time was a triumph. + +Desmond O'Connor was awaiting Sylvia outside "The Lounge," as the big +emporium in Gressley St. was called. Seeing her approach with Denis +Quirk, his brows contracted slightly, but he met them smilingly. + +"You call this punctuality?" he asked. + +"I call it feminine punctuality. If a woman fails to keep an appointment +by not more than half an hour, she is a model woman. I promised to meet +you at nine, and it is now barely twenty-five minutes past. Mr. Quirk, +could any woman achieve more than that?" + +"My acquaintance with women is so limited that I must refuse to +arbitrate. If I were Desmond, I should swear," answered Denis. + +"Have you been swearing, Desmond?" she asked. + +"If so, I have forgotten it. I am now the most supremely contented man +in the world," answered Desmond. + +"Well, good-bye, children!" cried Denis. + +He was surprised at himself for this speech; it was a frivolity that he +had never before been guilty of. But with Sylvia Jackson there were no +restraints, nor was his remark in the slightest degree extraordinary to +her. She called out after him as he went: + +"Don't forget our appointment after lunch." + +"You have charmed the grizzly bear," said Desmond. "I believe you could +teach him to dance." + +"I intend to do that. Before I go away he shall dance to my music, the +dear old grizzly," she answered. "I intend to drop you handsome men and +cultivate the ugly ones. Denis Quirk is charming!" + +"I believe he is a good sort," said Desmond, who was above the pettiness +of deprecating a possible rival. + +"I am sure that you are the very best of good sorts. Now, what are we to +do?" she answered. + +"Walk along the cliffs, and see the grandest sight in Nature--the +eternal war between the ocean and the land," he answered. + +And Sylvia Jackson, who was artistic and emotional to an extreme degree, +fully agreed with him when she stood on the cliffs that tower over the +sea just two miles beyond the town. + +A strong wind was blowing from the south, the sun shining through a sky +dappled with fleecy broken white cloudlets. The spray sparkled in the +bright light before it broke into a rainbow of changing colours. Above +the big rollers the cliffs rose in broken perpendicular columns; there +was a constant roar in the ears as breaker after breaker hurled itself +on the rocks. Sea-birds wheeled about overhead. In the far distance the +ocean stretched out, to where a bank of clouds rested on the distant +horizon, in slopes and peaks, a perfect copy of snow-clad mountains. + +"Don't stand so close to the cliffs!" cried Desmond. + +She laughed at him mockingly. + +"You need have no fear for me. I am an ethereal spirit, a thing of +vapour," she answered. + +"I wouldn't dare stand where you are; I should be drawn down. Good +heavens!" + +As he watched her she became suddenly pale and giddy. Seeing this, he +sprang and seized her in his arms, drawing her back, shaking and +trembling in every limb. + +"It was just in time," she said. "Another second and I was lost. +Suddenly a giddiness came over me, as if someone seized me and was +pulling me over the cliff. Take me away from this dreadful place." + +There were tears in her voice and in her eyes. She continued to sob +until they were remote from the sea. Then she suddenly asked, +laughingly: + +"Do you still imagine I am in danger that you continue to hold me?" + +"It was an opportunity I could not miss. Sylvia----," he said, sinking +his voice to the sentimental key. + +"Now, you must stop at once. Remember our compact. Once you become too +sentimental our friendship ends. Drop your arms by your side. That will +do. Now you may smile pleasantly and talk to me like a sensible man." + +It was a repulse, but it sounded rather as an invitation to continue the +siege in a less impulsive manner. So did Desmond construe what she had +said, and his spirits reflected the satisfaction which the belief +afforded him. When she joined them at lunch Kathleen found the two as +full of spirits as if they had been children. Their laughter and jests +were an offence to many who were lunching in the same room as they. To +these simple country folk the manners and style of the new school, to +which Sylvia Jackson belonged, were something as yet strange and +disagreeable. But the new school pays no attention to other people, and +rejoices in causing a sensation and outraging old-fashioned ideas. + +It was immediately after luncheon that Sylvia Jackson suggested: + +"We will go and visit Denis Quirk, and turn his office upside down." + +"I don't think you know Quirk," replied Desmond. "He's a martinet in +'The Mercury' office." + +"Oh, nonsense!" she cried. "Denis Quirk and I are like brother and +sister." + +She shot a quick glance at Kathleen to note the effect of this remark, +but Kathleen showed no sign of concern. + +"You will come with us, Kathleen," she continued, "and take a lesson +from me on the taming of bears. I positively love wild animals of the +human sort; they afford a natural tamer like me such a fund of +pleasure." + +"Oh, yes, I will come," Kathleen replied. + +She was vaguely surprised at the welcome they received. Denis Quirk was +a new personality to her; for the moment he threw away his accustomed +gravity and joined with his guests in their frolics. He led them around +the office, introducing them in turn to each employe, from Cairns right +down to Tim O'Neill, now promoted to office boy and occasional +reporter. He explained the mysteries of the printing room, and retailed +a score of newspaper anecdotes. Finally, he insisted on taking them to a +tea-room, and there ordering tea for the whole party. + +When he had parted from them to return to "The Mercury," Sylvia Jackson +asked: + +"What do you think of the martinet now? Can you suggest any other man in +Grey Town whom I can transform into something human?" + +"Ebenezer Brown," laughed Desmond O'Connor. "Why, there he comes, the +old rascal!" + +It was done in a moment. As the man came slowly up the street, Sylvia +Jackson dropped her purse in his path. It fell with a clink, and this it +probably was that caused Ebenezer Brown to stoop and pick it up. + +As he handed it back to her, Sylvia Jackson gave him a most gracious +smile. + +"Oh, thank you, Mr. Brown!" she said. + +Ebenezer paused for a moment to ask: + +"You know me, young lady?" + +"You would not remember me, but I met you once, years ago. My name is +Sylvia Jackson." + +"Jackson?" grunted the old man. "Don't remember the name, but I +shouldn't forget you if I had met you once." + +He went along the street, chuckling in his throat in a dry, disagreeable +fashion he affected when amused. + +"You took a great risk in allowing old Eb. to hold your purse. How he +resisted an inclination to pocket it I can't for the life of me +understand," said Desmond O'Connor. + +"Are there no other impossible men in Grey Town?" asked Sylvia Jackson. +"I feel so exalted by my two successes that I would love to discover a +really hardened woman-hater, and convert him to more humanitarian +principles." + +"Be content with what you have achieved, and devote your gifts to me," +said Desmond. + +Kathleen recognised that she was the unnecessary third, but they +protested that she must walk home with them, and managed to ignore her +presence entirely as they followed the dusty road to "Layton." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +DENIS REFUSES TO SPEAK. + + +Martin, the postman, was the most deliberate man in Grey Town. He never +hurried, and he never made a mistake. If he had twenty letters to +deliver at the same address, he would carefully read the address of each +one before taking the responsibility of handing it over to the +recipient. This accounted for the fact that Martin, the postman, was +invariably late. + +To Molly Healy, anxiously waiting at the Presbytery gate for the weekly +letter from Ireland, Martin was a constantly recurring cause of sin. So +keenly did she resent his leisurely methods that her indignation had +changed to anger, her anger almost to hatred, when she resolved to check +herself. + +"It must be stopped," she remarked to Mrs. Quirk, "or one day I will be +running at him with the pitchfork, and it would never do for the +priest's sister to be pursuing the postman through the town to destroy +him." + +"Sure, then, if I was you I would be praying for the man, returning good +for the evil he was doing you," said Mrs. Quirk. + +"But he doesn't mean it, and that is the worst of Martin. His conscience +is so big that it takes him all his time to carry it round. He's a +poor, good man, but it is murder I sometimes contemplate," cried Molly. + +At last she hit upon the device of giving Martin half an hour's grace +before expecting him. + +"I will be lenient with the man, and not expect him until he has +arrived," she said. "But it would do my heart good to pinch him." + +The half-hour had been prolonged to an hour, and Molly Healy was in a +white heat of fury when Martin arrived. + +"And what has kept you to-day?" cried Molly Healy. "You are the slowest +man in Grey Town, for sure, and that is saying you are phenomenally +slow." + +"You are angry," said Martin, in his most deliberate fashion. + +"Angry! I am just quivering with ungovernable temper. I could shake +you!" + +"You require your letters delivered by a twenty horse-power auto-motor," +replied Martin. + +Therewith he began to run through the letters with a deliberation that +was almost cruel. + +"When you have done shuffling the cards, perhaps you will give me the +one you have in your hand," cried Molly. + +"Patience, young lady. I have a duty to perform----." + +"Your duty is to give me my letter. If you only knew how near you were +to sudden death you would be in haste to get away from me." + +"There you are, five letters--one for you. Let me see; is it for you?" +Martin began to read the address over. + +"Oh, the Lord forgive you! You are an occasion of sin to me." + +"Patience, Miss Molly! Here you are, and good-day to you. The Lord send +you a better temper!" + +Martin delivered the letters, and proceeded placidly on his path of +duty. Molly Healy watched him until he had turned a distant corner. + +"The man will never get to heaven--he is too slow; and he will prevent +me getting there unless Providence removes him to another round." + +She carried the letters to Father Healy, and then proceeded to shut +herself in her room, and there absorb the news from Ireland. In laughter +and in tears she read her letter, and then re-read it, determined to +lose not one word of the contents. + +Dr. Marsh was with Father Healy when the letters came. + +"May I read them?" the priest asked. + +"Certainly! Why not?" replied the doctor in his brusque manner. "I will +digest a slice of theology." + +He took a book from the table and opened it. + +"I hope it will agree with you," laughed Father Healy, as he tore the +first letter open. + +"Humph!" grunted Dr. Marsh. "When I am dying I will send for you; +meanwhile I am quite content to remain a sinner." + +Father Healy did not reply. He had become keenly interested in his +letter. Twice he read it, and then he asked: + +"Where was it that Denis Quirk told you he was editing that paper of +his?" + +"'The Firebrand?'" asked Dr. Marsh, who had become absorbed in the book +he was reading. + +"Yes! yes!" cried the priest. + +"I don't exactly remember. I fancy it was Goldenvale. You had better ask +Denis. Now, I can't agree with this," said the doctor, referring to +something he had just read. + +"I will controvert with you in due season. Just now I am worried. You +are a safe and reliable man. Read this." + +Father Healy handed the letter to Dr. Marsh, who having glanced at it, +became deeply interested in the contents. + +"Goldenvale! Do you know this man?" he asked. + +"How should I?" replied the priest, almost irritably. "Could you expect +me to know every priest in America? But I could find out if there were +such a man." + +"I would take this letter to Denis Quirk, and allow him to deny it. It's +a lie, a palpable lie. I am sure of that." + +"And so am I; but lies are more readily credited in Grey Town than the +truth. I will see Denis Quirk at once. Will you come with me?" asked +Father Healy. + +"Not to 'The Mercury' office, but a part of the way. Put your hat on +while I finish what I was reading." + +Denis Quirk was in the outer office as Father Healy entered. He was +inditing a letter to Tim O'Neill, who now claimed, among his other +qualifications, a certificate as a typewriter. + +"Good-day, Father Healy!" cried Denis Quirk. "What can I do for you? A +paragraph to encourage your congregation to build the new school?" + +"Not at present, Mr. Quirk. If you will give me five minutes, I will ask +no more." + +"Then come into my room. Finish that, address it, and post it, Tim." + +"Yes, sir. And might I then go down to the hall and report that +meeting?" + +"Certainly, Tim. This is the keenest man on my staff, Father." + +Tim O'Neill beamed all over at this praise, and he settled himself +resolutely to his task. Meanwhile Denis Quirk's office door closed with +a bang on Father Healy and himself. + +"I should like you to read this," said the priest, as he handed the +fateful letter to Denis Quirk. + +The latter took it and read it frowningly. Then he leaned back in his +chair, and regarded the priest with a composed face. + +"Well?" asked Father Healy. + +"Well?" responded Denis. + +"You will, of course, deny the calumny?" + +Denis Quirk shook his head. + +"The writer is a good man and a priest. As for the accusation, let time +be the judge. I shall neither acknowledge nor deny it. There are others +concerned besides myself." + +Father Healy was for the moment bereft of the power of speech. He could +not understand Denis Quirk's attitude. At last he cried: + +"You are accused of being a divorced man!" + +"If I am, the action was not from me. I then adopted the attitude I now +propose to adopt. I merely sat quiet. There are persons concerned in +this whom I refuse to injure." + +"And what do you intend to do?" asked Father Healy. "There will be a +horrible scandal in Grey Town." + +"I shall do what I did in the States--just live it down and wait. Time +will put everything straight," said Denis Quirk. + +"Your wife has married again?" the priest asked. + +"I believe she has. Father Healy, all that I ask of you is your +confidence and trust. There is certain to be a storm, but I am strong +enough to stand it. I don't wish to lose my friends, you least of all. +Will you believe in me?" + +Father Healy looked in the man's eyes, and Denis Quirk met his gaze +unflinchingly. He was particularly ugly that day, but Father Healy could +read human nature, and he believed that Denis Quirk was honest. + +"I would have preferred you to have proved yourself innocent," he said. + +"I cannot do that; others can. It is for them to speak, not me," replied +Denis. + +"I promise that I will hold to you," said the priest. + +"Thank you, Father. If you will do that--you, the old mother, and one +other--I am content," he said. + +As the good priest left "The Mercury" in a particularly dejected frame +of mind, he found Dr. Marsh waiting for him. + +"Well?" he said. "A canard, I suppose?" + +Father Healy made no reply. + +"You don't mean to tell me----," cried the doctor. + +"I believe he is a wronged man, but he refuses to speak." + +"I must speak to him myself. Don't wait for me, Father. Just get away +home, and pray that a miracle may put this straight." + +Denis Quirk was still sitting as the priest had left him when Dr. Marsh +burst in upon him, and plumped down on the chair that had been vacated +by Father Healy. + +"See here, Quirk," he began, without further explanation, "I am a man of +the world, and I know the utmost capabilities of human wickedness. I +don't believe you are a real libertine. But I know Grey Town. Many a dog +has been hanged here because of his bad name. You must disprove this." + +"No, doctor. If you knew my story you would recognise the strength of my +position. I must trust to time to put things straight." + +"They will start another paper and fight you." + +"Let them. That is what I want, a good fight," replied Denis. "Someone +whom I can hit--hard!" + +"And what if I withdraw my capital?" + +"You won't do that, doctor," replied Denis, with a quiet smile. "I know +you." + +"Well, Quirk, I'll tell you what I think of you--a clever, Quixotic +fool. But I will stand by you to the end. I am a sort of Ishmaelite; +nothing pleases me better than an exchange of hard blows." + +The two men shook hands in silence, and Dr. Marsh went out to find +Father Healy waiting for him. + +"We are a pair of idiots, you and I," said the doctor. "We ought to +unite in hooting Denis Quirk out of Grey Town, but we shall fight for +him to the finish. He is too ugly to be hopelessly wicked," he added, +after a pause. + +"Then you and I are not altogether bad," laughed the priest. + +They walked in silence to the doctor's gate. + +"Won't you come in?" he asked, as they paused to say good-bye. + +"No, thank you. It is a strange thing I should have received the +Bishop's letter to-day," said Father Healy, reflectively. + +Dr. Marsh could not grasp the meaning of this remark, so he refrained +from comment on it. + +"The Bishop wishes me to take a six months' holiday," continued the +priest. + +"You have earned it by hard work. A most reasonable suggestion. Take a +rest before you die suddenly," said the doctor. + +"And he suggests that I return to the old home in County Cork," added +Father Healy. + +"Naturally. Where would you go but to Ireland?" + +"Why not America? It is a great country, and cousins of my own in every +city. It might be I would find a cousin in Goldenvale itself." + +"Goldenvale! Father Healy, you are a strange man, a many-sided man, but +I don't think you are the best fitted person I would select to be +discovering other men's secrets." + +"Denis Quirk won't help himself. I intend to help him," said the priest. + +"And if you prove him guilty?" + +"No man need know but that I went to Cork, after all. But something +tells me I shall find him innocent." + +"I am prepared to lay 6 to 4 on that myself. Well, Providence go with +you, for you deserve it; and if you require money----," said Dr. Marsh. + +"Not one penny. I have a small income of my own, inherited from my +mother, God rest her soul! Molly shall go to the Finns, in Brunswick. +The change will do her good. And no one need know but that I am in +Cork." + +"In Cork you shall be, if I have to perjure my soul to prove it!" cried +Dr. Marsh. "No man shall come near me when I come to die but you, for +you are the best man living." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +"AND ONE OTHER!" + + +The Grey River was in flood. It came down the valley a torrent of yellow +water, rushing madly between the rocks where the channel was narrow, +spreading out far and wide over the low-lying meads, bearing with it the +trunks of trees and other debris snatched up along its course. It had +overflowed the lower bridge, and rendered it impassable to traffic; the +upper bridge was threatened by the turbulent river. + +There had been storms far up among the mountains, where the Grey takes +its origin, and rains all down the valley. From every small stream and +gully a volume of clay-coloured water flowed into the main stream. But +the day was bright and sunny after the rain. The sunshine glittered on +the yellow surface of the stream, and on the green fields sloping +upwards from it. Viewed from the distant hills, the Grey valley was a +shining, sparkling amber, encased in an emerald setting. + +Kathleen O'Connor had viewed the flood with concern. On the further bank +of the river was Mrs. Sheridan's small cottage, where a poor widow +struggled to keep a large family by milking on the share system. +Kathleen knew that one of the children was seriously ill, and that the +mother, always living from hand to mouth, but always carrying a brave +face, would be seriously encumbered by Michael's sickness. She feared, +too, that the flood waters might even reach to the little cottage, with +disastrous results. + +"Shall I ride over and see how Mrs. Sheridan is?" she asked, when the +heavy rain had ceased, and sunshine was raising a warm vapour from the +sodden earth. + +"Why not?" replied Mrs. Quirk. "It will do you good--and Sylvia, too." + +Sylvia Jackson still remained at "Layton." She had come prepared to +spend a monotonous fortnight at Grey Town, because she was tired of the +city. But she had remained at "Layton" day after day, accommodating +herself to the inhabitants and to the routine of the house. No one +resented her presence, nor did anyone desire her departure, for she had +made herself pleasant to all. In Mrs. Quirk's eyes she stood second only +to Kathleen. Samuel Quirk regarded her as chief critic and adviser on +the estate, and to Kathleen she was a cheerful, madcap companion, who +reminded her that she was yet young. Denis Quirk's sentiments in regard +to the girl he carefully concealed from the outside world, even from +Sylvia herself. He was polite and deferential, yet humorous, with her; +but she would have liked him to demonstrate clearly that he had enrolled +himself among her bodyguard. She had given him abundant opportunities so +to do, walking almost daily into the town with him, paying flying visits +to "The Mercury" office, and playing dreamy music while he smoked his +evening pipe. But Denis Quirk made no sign. + +When Kathleen O'Connor proposed to ride round and see the Sheridans, +Sylvia was painting. She was an adept at every variety of artistic work. +Of any of the arts she might have made a success had she been content to +devote her talent solely to that one; but she was too versatile to be +completely successful, and while everything was good, nothing was +perfect. + +"I would love to go with you," she cried. + +"And I will meet you at the lower bridge and ride home with you," said +Denis Quirk. + +In accordance with this arrangement, the two girls rode towards Mrs. +Sheridan's after breakfast. Kathleen O'Connor was a perfect horsewoman. +Sylvia Jackson, on the other hand, was unused to horses, and very +nervous; but she was too proud to confess the fact. Kathleen, while +recognising Sylvia's lack of capacity was too charitable to comment upon +it. She had protested once, when her friend asked to be allowed to ride +a rather high-spirited horse, but when Sylvia retorted hotly, Kathleen +offered no further opposition. Thus it came about that Sylvia rode in +constant dread, and made a nervous, fidgety horse a thousand times more +irritable. + +The road towards the upper bridge that crosses the Grey at Swynford is +bordered by stretches of green grass. Along this the two girls rode at +an easy canter, saving when Dr. Marsh's car rushed past, the doctor +driving furiously, as was his way. This incident upset Sylvia's horse +for a considerable time, but he quietened down into an easy canter in +the deserted bye-road that leads from Swynford, along the farther bank +of the Grey, to Mrs. Sheridan's. + +At a rise in the road they paused to look down on the cottage. It stood +surrounded by pine trees, with a small garden around it. It was a +demonstration of Mrs. Sheridan's perpetual industry that she found time +to keep the garden in order, despite her numberless other duties. A +bright little patch of gay colours she had made of it, and behind it she +had cultivated a neat kitchen garden. + +"The river has not done any harm to Mrs. Sheridan's cottage," cried +Kathleen, with great relief, as she viewed the flood waters, still +several feet below the level of the garden. + +"Can you understand anyone living in such a poky, ramshackle little +hovel?" asked Sylvia. "I would rather be dead and buried than live +there." + +"Mrs. Sheridan cannot choose; she must live there or die. She is a great +woman," said Kathleen. + +Mrs. Sheridan met them at the gate, clean, tidy, and talkative. She was +noted throughout the district for her loquacity, but, if she spoke at +great length, she always spoke kindly. + +"Is it you, Miss O'Connor?" she cried. "Sure, it was like yourself to be +thinking of me and Michael. Michael and me, we was thinking of you. Only +last Sunday I said to the boy, 'Miss Kathleen will be going to Mass,' +the which I couldn't do myself, and more is the pity; but when Dan was +down with the chickenpox, Father Healy himself, no less, the Lord bless +the good man! told me it was my duty to be with Dan. 'The Lord will +excuse you from the chapel,' he said to me, 'and you can read the Mass +to Dan.' The which I did to Michael here, and him listening to me as if +he understood it all, every word. But won't you come inside, you and the +young lady? You will be excusing the house, miss; and if you would be +taking a cup of tea or a glass of milk, there's no spirits in the house +to be offering you, for I think it is putting temptation in the way of +some that's too fond of it." + +"Yes, we will come inside and see Michael," cried Kathleen. "And if we +might have a cup of tea----." + +"Not for me," Sylvia whispered; "I couldn't drink tea in a place like +this." + +"To be sure," cried Mrs. Sheridan, not hearing Sylvia's comment. +"Michael will be pleased to see you. Doesn't he call you 'Pretty Miss +Kathie'? But you will excuse the liberty in a boy. He is recovering, the +doctor says, which himself was here to-day, and the car stuck out there +in the mud, and the doctor swearing! Michael could hear him in his bed, +which it wasn't good for the boy to hear. But the doctor is too kind, +for sure, to mean any harm, even to the car, and Michael and me +pretended not to hear him, nor to know that he was angry. The Lord will +overlook the words he used to the car and the council that should be +taking care of the roads." + +Kathleen hitched her own and Sylvia's horse to the fence, and entered a +small, but wonderfully clean, room, that served as a kitchen and general +sitting-room for the family. Here they found Michael, a boy of four, +the baby of a family of nine. The other children had gone, as a troop, +to the State school at Swynford. There they would remain all day, to +return and assist at the milking, such of them as were capable. + +Kathleen sat down beside the boy, and began to entertain him. In a few +minutes the two were laughing together, as became old friends. Kathleen +had brought sundry gifts with her, among them a sovereign, which she +slipped under his pillow, to be discovered after she had gone. + +Sylvia sat rigidly on her chair, absorbing the scene with her apparently +sleepy eyes; while Mrs. Sheridan bustled about, talking unceasingly, as +she spread a clean table cloth and prepared the tea for her guests. + +"Did you ever hear such a rain? And the wind! The Lord preserve us; it +was praying Michael and me was, the others fast asleep, that the cottage +might not be blown away, and us in it. It was like the night himself +died. I was sitting here beside him, watching to see him flicker out. He +died as peaceful as a child--just one smile for me, and he was gone. An' +me alone in the house with him. Mrs. Smith that would have been beside +me--she's dead herself now, God rest her soul, for she was a good +neighbour--the rain and wind prevented her and many another. And there I +sat beside him, as I sat beside Michael, listening to the rain beating +on the window and roof, and the trees groaning as if in mortal anguish, +and the house creaking, and outside the river and sea roaring. It was +praying I was for the morning, for the night makes the storm more +fearsome. Now, sit down, Miss O'Connor, and you, miss; the tea is made. +It's only bread and butter I can offer yous, but it is all I have, and +welcome you are to it." + +Kathleen sat down, but Sylvia Jackson, to Mrs. Sheridan's intense +concern, refused to eat or drink. + +"Thank you, I am not hungry," she said. + +Kathleen was hurt by what she regarded as a want of courtesy. Everything +was scrupulously clean, if poor, and the widow willingly gave all that +she possessed. To make amends for her friend's refusal, Kathleen drank +more tea and consumed a larger amount of bread and butter than she had +ever done before. Then, after a chat on the affairs of Grey Town, which +Mrs. Sheridan made a kind of prolonged solo, Kathleen and Sylvia rose to +go. + +Mrs. Sheridan followed them to the gate, talking vigorously. As they +rode away her voice might still be heard as she chanted Kathleen's +praises to Michael. + +"What a dreadful woman!" said Sylvia. + +Kathleen was already deeply hurt by her friend's conduct, and she fired +up into intense indignation at this remark. + +"Dreadful!" she cried. "Mrs. Sheridan is a good, honest woman. She has +given her life for her children, and she is the soul of good nature." + +Sylvia laughed good-humouredly at this championship. + +"A very excellent person, no doubt," she said, "but an ungovernable +tongue. She never ceased talking while we were there. No wonder himself +died peacefully. How he must have longed for death--and peace!" + +"You don't understand----," Kathleen began. + +"I don't profess to understand. I belong to another school to you. My +set detests the prosaic and commonplace; we must have the clever and +original. Platitudes are detestable to us, unless they come clothed in a +brilliant metaphor. Homely virtues I neither pretend to understand or +admire. I much prefer eccentricity, even clever vice." + +Kathleen laughed tolerantly, recognising that further argument or +expostulation was vain. + +"Shall we try the lower bridge?" she asked. + +"Of course we must. Denis Quirk is to meet us, and I wouldn't disappoint +him for anything. Now, there is a man after my own heart, strikingly +ugly, so ugly as to be beautiful, and wonderfully clever, sometimes so +rude as to be quite original, full of a sardonic humour--an absolutely +unique type. Denis Quirk is the sort of man I might condescend to love, +and if ever I do love it will be like that river in flood down there." + +The road ran high above a rocky gorge, through which the Grey was +rushing in a turbulent torrent of water. It roared as it went, and +leaped up angrily at the rocks on either side, foaming and bubbling, +swirling into small whirlpools, as if in an impotent passion at the +constraint. + +Kathleen looked at the flood, and then at Sylvia's sleepy face and +dreamy eyes. + +"I wonder if you could love?" she asked. + +"I wonder, too. Sometimes I scoff at the very thought of such a thing, +and sometimes I believe that I could be as wild and turbulent as the +river is to-day." + +Beyond the gorge the river widens out into a broad estuary before it +enters the sea. It is across this estuary that the lower bridge has been +built. Just below it is the bar, where river and sea were battling in a +wild confusion. + +When Kathleen saw that the bridge was half submerged, and that the +current was still strong, though not to be compared in violence with the +maelstrom that poured through the gorge, she reined her horse in. + +"We must turn round and ride home the way we came," she said. + +"Turn around? Why should we? I intend to cross. I can see Denis Quirk on +the farther bank." + +"And he is warning us to turn back," said Kathleen. + +"The more reason to go on. Follow me if you dare." + +Seeing that Sylvia was determined to cross, Kathleen urged her own horse +alongside of Sylvia's, and seized her friend's rein. + +"You shall not go on!" she cried. + +"Let go of my reins!" said Sylvia. + +Kathleen recognised the note of anger in the voice, and saw that the +customarily sleepy eyes were flashing, and that there was a line of +determination on the usually smooth forehead. But this did not influence +her. + +"No. I will not let go," she replied. + +Sylvia Jackson raised her whip. Once it fell smartly on Kathleen's +hand, leaving a red wheal; still Kathleen held on. But when the blow was +repeated more viciously than before, with a cry of pain she released the +rein. + +"Do you imagine you can stop me, with Denis Quirk on the other side?" +Sylvia asked, and urged her horse on to the flooded bridge. I have +already said that Sylvia was not an expert rider; her horse realised the +fact, and faced the water with a snort of terror. The handrail of the +bridge alone appeared above the muddy stream; even this was submerged +occasionally as a wave rolled up from the turbulent bar, barely one +hundred yards below the bridge. + +The horse began to rear in terror, threatening every moment to plunge +over the rail of the bridge into the stream. Kathleen, behind, could do +nothing but follow, while from the further bank a small collection of +men and women watched in a panic that prevented action. But Denis Quirk +was quick of thought and prompt to do; he sprang from his horse and +dashed along the flooded bridge towards Sylvia. + +"Sit still!" he cried. "Keep your rein loose, and get your feet free +from the stirrups." + +Scarcely realising what she was doing, Sylvia obeyed him. He attempted +to seize the horses' rein, but the animal was maddened with terror, and +kept turning away from him. At last, however, Denis managed to throw his +arm around Sylvia and drag her from the saddle. Immediately after, +whether still further frightened by his action or bewildered by the +water, the horse reared over the handrail into the flooded river. He was +washed almost to the bar, but managed to reach the further shore, and +gallop home to his stable at "Layton." + +Denis Quirk carried Sylvia across the bridge, followed by Kathleen, +whose horse went quietly through the flood secure in his rider's +composure. On reaching the farther side, Denis realised that Sylvia had +fainted. There was, however, a small hotel close at hand, and here Denis +left the girl, safe in a kindly landlady's care. + +He found Kathleen dismounting from her horse, her face very pale from +the anxiety that Sylvia's danger had caused her. + +"Why did you allow her to do such a foolish thing?" he asked, abruptly. + +Kathleen held her hand, with the marks of the whip still on it, out of +his sight. It was not for her to tell him how her attempts to restrain +Sylvia had been received. + +"It was against my wish that she crossed the bridge," she answered. + +"Even for you it was a madcap thing to do," he said. "You can never +trust a horse in such a flood as this. I have telephoned for the motor; +you and she had better go home in it, while I take charge of your horse. +You have caused me a terrible anxiety." + +He turned away, leaving Kathleen scarcely able to control her +mortification and annoyance. Denis Quirk had, she told herself, +disregarded her danger, and spoken to her like a disobedient child. By +what right did he lecture her or hold her responsible for Sylvia's +wilfulness? When the landlady came to ask if she would come to her +friend, it was on the tip of her tongue to refuse but she restrained +herself by a great effort, and went into the room. + +Sylvia was sitting on a couch, very pale, but smiling placidly. As +Kathleen entered, tears came into her eyes, and she asked in a penitent +voice: + +"Can you ever forgive me? I can't forgive myself for striking you. But +no one has ever attempted to prevent me from having my own way, and I +was resolved to go on. I have been sufficiently punished." + +"Never mind about it now," said Kathleen. "You did not realise the +risk." + +"I shall never forget it! Let me look at your hand. Did I do that? Oh, +how cruel of me to strike you! You won't tell Denis Quirk that I did +it?" + +Kathleen, who had begun to feel her anger slowly evaporating, became +suddenly as indignant towards Sylvia as she had been prior to the +latter's apology. It was evident to her that it was not because of the +injury Sylvia had done her, but lest she should complain to Denis Quirk, +that Sylvia was asking forgiveness. + +"I have no intention of telling Denis Quirk," she answered, coldly. + +"Now, don't be angry, Kathleen--please. I am a spoiled girl, I know. +Everybody has conspired to spoil me. I am impulsive and passionate, but +no one has checked me. Let that be my excuse." + +She put her arm around Kathleen and drew her down on the couch beside +her. + +"Kiss me," she said, "and say you forgive me. There, that's a dear! Now +tell me exactly what happened. It is a blank to me." + +Kathleen told her exactly what had taken place, Sylvia listening with +intense interest. + +"Isn't he brave?" she asked. "And he took me in his arms, and never +thought of you! What if your horse had gone over the bridge after mine?" + +"Denis Quirk knows that I can ride 'Douglas' anywhere," Kathleen +answered. + +"I suppose so," said Sylvia; "but he might have made sure of the fact. I +think he is splendid. All those other men stood gaping on the bank, and +he was the only one to act. It is a moment like that that proves a man. +Scores of admirers have told me what they would do for me, but only one +man has done--only one," she added, dreamily. + +That evening Kathleen was restless; the day's adventure had disturbed +her more than she was aware of. After tea, having made Mrs. Quirk +comfortable, she slipped on a thin lace shawl and went quietly into the +garden. Walking about in the evening stillness, her accustomed composure +returned to her. Presently she slipped into a summer-house, and sat down +to think placidly. + +As she sat there, she heard voices, and, to her surprise, Denis Quirk +and Sylvia paused directly in front of the summer-house. The very +thought of eavesdropping was repugnant to her, but they were speaking so +quickly and earnestly that she had heard part of their conversation +before she could interrupt it. Remembering Sylvia Jackson's passion, +possibly fearing an outburst of malice, Kathleen kept very quiet, +resolved never to give a sign of what she knew. + +"You saved my life," Sylvia said, "and I could refuse you nothing. Ask +anything of me in return." + +"Nonsense!" Denis answered, laughingly. "You exaggerate what I have +done." + +"You say that because you are brave. Brave men laugh at their own +courage, as you do. But I know, and I worship you!" + +The last words were spoken almost in a whisper, and in the tender voice +that Sylvia Jackson was mistress of. But for once the words rang true. +Kathleen held her breath, wondering what any man could do when so spoken +to by such a woman as Sylvia. + +Denis answered curtly, almost rudely: + +"My dear young lady, please don't weave any absurd romances about me. I +am an ordinary and very commonplace man, not accustomed to soft words +from pretty women. Take my advice and go home to your parents; forget +about me as quickly as you can. I have no intention of ever marrying, +and I don't pretend to be a lady's man. Now, go inside, like a good +girl, and forget to-day." + +"Forget!" Kathleen noted a change in Sylvia's voice. "I shall never +forget to-night." + +Their voices and steps grew fainter, until they were finally lost to +Kathleen's ears. After a few minutes she also went towards the house. +Denis Quirk stood higher in her estimation than ever he had done before. +He had been severely tempted, and had put the temptation behind him. +Sylvia Jackson was what is termed a man's woman, but Kathleen could +realise the fascination she was mistress of. She had been courted by +many men; to-night she had thrown herself at Denis Quirk's feet, and he +had resisted where other men might have succumbed. With these thoughts +in her mind, Kathleen greeted Denis Quirk kindly when he met her near +the house. + +"I am afraid I was rude to you to-day," he said, without preamble. "I +spoke without thinking. I want you to excuse me." + +"I do," she answered, simply. + +"Naturally, you were hurt," he said. "Believe me when I say that I would +rather offend anyone than you. I place very few women among the +heroines, but you are one of them. For any other I would have been +afraid in the flood; I knew that you were safe. That was the reason why +I offered you no help. My fears were for your friend. I am fully +forgiven?" + +"Fully," she answered. + +"Thank you! That is all I want. Good-night!" + +He turned on his heel, and went down the avenue on his way to "The +Mercury" office. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +DESMOND GOES UNDER. + + +In the period of pique and disappointment, when she realised that Denis +Quirk was impervious to her attractions, Sylvia Jackson suddenly awoke +to a new interest in life. At the moment she was hesitating between an +interesting decline and a fearful vendetta. But this did not deter her +from attending the Grey Town Intellectual Society's lecture on Art and +Artists, which was delivered by George Custance, R.A., nor did it +prevent the lecturer from fascinating the impressionable girl. + +Until that moment Grey Town was unaware that Custance existed. A few of +the townspeople had occasionally noticed a man in a grey suit, who was +living at the "Fisherman's Retreat," near the mouth of the Grey River. +They had seen him handling a rod from the banks of the river, and had +sometimes observed him with a sketch-book in his hand, transferring a +view of the coast to paper. + +But he was so quiet and unobtrusive that few persons paid any great +attention to him. It was indeed entirely by chance that the Intellectual +Society secured his services. The secretary wrote to an artist friend in +Melbourne, suggesting a lecture; the answer was short and concise: +"Sorry I cannot find time to amuse you. Try Claude Custance; he knows +more about art than any other man in Australia." + +"Try Custance! Who the dickens is Custance?" the secretary asked the +president. + +"Blessed if I know. Ask Gurner; he is sure to know," the president +answered. + +In the club Gurner was nicknamed the Grey Town Directory. He was +regarded as a local Burke, who could fire off the pedigrees and +performances of every family in the district. + +The secretary discovered him in the club, taking a novice down at +billiards. + +"Do you know a man of the name of Custance?" the secretary began. + +Gurner prided himself on his knowledge. To be unable to point out the +identity of any person in the town was to ruin a reputation. He paused +abruptly from the stroke he was contemplating. + +"Custance, did you say?" + +"Yes; Custance, an artist." + +"There is a grey man of that name at the 'Fisherman's Retreat.' He is a +bit of an artist, they tell me. I will ask Cowley," he said. + +A few days later he found the secretary in his office. + +"I have found out all about that artist man," he said. + +"Custance? Does he know anything about art?" + +"Do you know anything about law? He's a classic winner, the very deuce +of a top-notcher. He's been hung over and over again. You can't teach +him anything about art," replied Gurner. + +"I wonder if he would lecture for us?" + +"Leave him to me. A nice fellow; we fraternised over fishing, with a +whisky and soda to wash it down. He began to tell me tall stories, and I +added six inches to everyone he produced. I will secure him for you." + +This he did the following day, for Custance was quite an obliging man, +and a personal friend of the artist who had refused the invitation. + +The news spread, as it usually does in a country town, and interest in +the lecture became phenomenally keen. The intellectuals had for once +secured public support. They promptly raised their charge for admission +from sixpence to one shilling, with an additional sixpence for booking. +They advertised the attraction in capital letters and created a furore. +The consequence was that the learned and those who assumed the virtue +combined to fill the hall to overflowing. + +Custance was an ideal lecturer. He took possession of the platform and +audience in an easy, unassuming manner, and delivered an address amusing +and learned, yet understandable. And well he might, for he was not a +mere painter, but one who had lectured on art to select audiences, and +had sold pictures at fabulous prices. At this very moment London was +asking, "Where is Custance?" and here he was in Grey Town. + +The town would have made much of him had he permitted it. But he was +there for work and quiet. A shoal of invitations were fired at him and +refused; he preferred to lapse into obscurity. A few of the more +obtrusive attempted to force their society on him: to these he was +frankly rude. The more tactful fell in with his humour, and were content +to nod to him. + +Sylvia Jackson was introduced, but beyond a passing glance of admiration +Custance relegated her to forgetfulness. She was, however, determined to +know him, and she engineered a second meeting with her usual diplomacy. + +"A picnic to the beach would be ideal," she suggested. "Not to the +frequented part, but to that quiet little beach near the mouth of the +Grey. Just ourselves, Mrs. Quirk, you and Kathleen, and I." + +She knew that Custance was sketching a seascape not far from that spot. + +"Why not?" asked Mrs. Quirk. "What more should we want? You and Kathleen +are all I need--with Denis to come to tea, if he has the time." + +"Sorry to disappoint you," said Denis Quirk, "but I must be at the +office all day. Cairns is away on holiday, and not a man with any +initiative but Tim O'Neill to support me." + +Denis Quirk's absence was a great relief to Sylvia Jackson. She still +entertained a tender admiration for him, but, as he continued to resist +her fascinations, she preferred that he should not be present to +frustrate or ridicule her plans. Mrs. Quirk and Kathleen were easily +duped, but she feared the penetration of Denis Quirk. Nevertheless she +made pretence of a great disappointment. + +"We counted on you," she remarked in an agonised voice. + +"Never count on a paper man. We are the most unreliable people in the +world," he answered. "Make the old mother happy, and don't keep her out +too late." + +With these words he went down the avenue whistling the air of a melody +that Kathleen had sung the night before. + +Sylvia had studied her plans with the greatest care, and she put them +into action when they were safely arrived at the strip of beach that +lies beyond the river bar. + +"You and Granny prefer to be alone," she told Kathleen. "I intend to +take my sketch book and see what I can do with the view round the +point." + +Therewith she sauntered away, giving them no time to protest. The spot +she had chosen for her sketch is one of the most magnificent on the +coast. + +It is a small patch of sand, terminated towards the east by black +precipitous rocks, against which the sea is perpetually pounding in +great breakers. On this day the sea was a wonderful dark blue, and very +peaceful, save where it thundered at the base of the cliffs. On the +horizon a bank of grey clouds rested on the water like a remote island +crowned with mounts and peaks. The smoke of a distant steamer rose in an +almost straight line upwards; nearer the shore a small fishing boat was +moving gently backwards and forwards, its sails barely filled by the +gentle breeze. There was a sense of rest in the scene, as if the ocean +were slumbering after the strife of a few days previously. + +Here Sylvia found the artist, working quietly at a picture that he had +almost completed. He had caught the vivid colouring of the ocean, the +grey bank of clouds and the distant smoke, and had transferred them to +his canvas. + +Sylvia approached and stood behind him, but he did not recognise her +presence, for he was absorbed in his work. + +"How do you contrive----," Sylvia began. + +Custance turned towards her with a quick start, for, like other artists, +he had nerves that were peculiarly sensitive and reacted acutely to +impressions. Seeing that the questioner was a beautiful girl, he +regarded her with a kindly smile. + +"Forgive my rudeness," said Sylvia, "the question was almost +involuntary." + +"The question is not yet completed. How do I contrive----?" he asked. + +"How do you contrive to snatch up the colours of nature and place them +on your canvas?" + +"I have all the colours there," he said, pointing to his palette, "and +so has every painter; but some of us approach nearer to Nature. I have +never yet succeeded in quite pleasing myself. I have the deep blue of +the sea, but not the representation of infinite depth and infinite +power." + +"You approach very closely to it," she answered. "Now sit down and +paint, and let me watch you. I am a painter myself; not an artist like +you, but one who dabbles a little in an amateur fashion." + +"May I see your sketch book?" he asked, and took it from her hand. "Very +good!" he cried. "Shall I tell you what I think?" + +"Please do!" + +"You might be an artist, if you were content with that alone; but you +are too versatile. Am I right? The result is great possibilities that +will never be realised unless you concentrate your power on one thing." + +"Let me watch you," she said, "and I will resolve to do nothing but +paint." + +She sat on a sand bank behind him, and he painted his picture, turning +occasionally to speak to her. + +At last she rose unwillingly. + +"I must go, or my friends will fancy I am lost. May I come here again +and take a few more lessons?" + +"Certainly, if you will. I shall be delighted. But when this picture is +completed I pack up my effects and go. It is a pity you do not live in +Melbourne," he added regretfully. + +"But I do," she answered. + +"Then you must come to me and study the finishing touches of your art. +You need only a few more details and you will be an artist." + +"Oh, you are too kind!" she cried. + +"Not at all. It is a privilege to encourage talent," he answered. +Nevertheless had she not been an attractive woman, he would not have +offered his assistance so willingly. + +"I suppose your parents will not object?" he asked. "You can assure +them I am a most trustworthy young man." + +"My parents allow me to do exactly what I wish," she answered. "You see, +they can trust me," she added, smilingly. + +"Naturally. Then it is a promise." + +This was their first meeting. Subsequently it became her custom to ride +out alone after breakfast. She chose the morning, when Kathleen was busy +and could not accompany her, and she took her sketching book; but most +of her time was spent in watching Custance, and absorbing his art. + +When her teacher left Grey Town she suddenly realised that her parents +and friends in Melbourne needed her society, and, after an affectionate +parting from Kathleen and the Quirks, was carried out of Grey Town life +by the train that is termed an express. + +In Melbourne, an indulgent father and mother, who fondly believed that +she was perfect, readily consented to her improving her talent under the +teaching of the great artist, and she made rapid progress in her art. +But this was not the chief result of her lessons. Slowly she became +infatuated with the personality of Custance, while he, having begun to +play the game of love simply for the excitement it afforded him, finally +found himself involved in a grand passion. This he declared to her in +language suggested by his artistic temperament, and she responded in a +similar strain. + +Then came a pause, when he asked himself: "Is it fair that any woman +shall link her fate to mine?" He looked at the small syringe on the +mantelpiece and the tiny little bottle beside it. He thought of the +marks on his arm, of the passing inspirations he thus found, and of the +subsequent fits of remorse. + +The following day, while they were working in the studio, Sylvia +painting and he criticising her work, he asked: + +"If I were a drunkard, would you still care for me?" + +She did not so much as turn while she answered: + +"Whatever you are, I have given myself to you." + +"There are worse things than drink," he said, as if communing with +himself. "There are drugs that enslave and debase a man; drugs that lead +him into the gardens of pleasure and raise him to the heights of +delight, so that he believes himself to be a superman, and," he almost +groaned, "lower him to the uttermost depths. Supposing----." + +She turned to face him smilingly. "I refuse to suppose," she answered. +"I have resigned myself to you, and I am ready to accept and condone +everything. I love you, and that is sufficient for me." + +What could a man such as he, who had never denied himself anything, do +under these circumstances? He threw his scruples to the winds and made +love in a feverish manner, regardless of the cost. Sylvia introduced him +to her parents, and he was made welcome by the hospitable and kindly old +people. At last he offered himself to Mr. Jackson as a husband for +Sylvia. But here he met with a check, for the old man had a strange +antipathy for artists; his capable, matter-of-fact business mind +mistrusted the emotional, and he firmly believed that artists were +governed by the emotions. He was willing that Custance should be a +friend; he refused him as Sylvia's husband. + +Custance was prepared to accept this as an adverse judgment, and to bow +to Mr. Jackson's decision; for he was a man of honour. But, when he +announced his intention to Sylvia, she refused to accept it. + +"By what right," she asked, "does my father take my happiness in his +hands? I can best judge the husband I need, and I refuse to give you up. +It is too late for him to interfere now." + +"You must remember----," he began. + +"I will remember nothing but that I love you, and that you have told me +you love me. That is the only thing that counts. You do love me, +Claude?" she answered. + +"Love you! I worship you," he answered, "but your father has done so +much for you----." + +"I grant that. There is no father like him. If he had stopped me in the +beginning I would have accepted his commands. Now it is too late. I +can't obey him now." + +"I feel myself bound by honour----," he said. + +"You are bound by honour to me. My father has no right to tell me who I +shall marry. I refuse to be treated as a child; I am a woman, capable of +choosing my own husband." + +Thus did she urge him on against his better judgment, and one day they +were missing. For better or worse Sylvia Jackson was married to Claude +Custance, brilliant, erratic, a slave to morphia. For his sake she +forgot her duty to her parents, the love and kindness they had lavished +on her. The day that she left them a cloud came and rested over their +home. For her, marriage proved a cruel and bitter disillusionment, for +no woman can ever rival that deadly mistress, morphia. + +The night before Sylvia's elopement, Desmond O'Connor had dined with the +Jacksons. Mr. Jackson had hoped to displace Custance with the handsome +young fellow whom he loved, and Sylvia had made use of Desmond to +conceal her infatuation for the artist. They had sat together out on the +verandah, and she had given him a rose. + +"A rose for constancy," she said, as he held it in his hand and inhaled +the perfume. "You deserve it." + +"Shall my constancy be rewarded?" he asked eagerly. + +"What a handsome boy you are!" she laughed. "I wonder will it be +rewarded?" + +"Why do you tease me?" he asked. "If you could read my heart----?" + +"I can read it in your eyes. I know every word they say. Come inside and +sing to me." + +In his fine tenor voice he sang, at her request, Tosti's "Good-bye." +That was his farewell to Sylvia Jackson. + +The following morning Mr. Jackson failed to appear at business. This was +an almost unprecedented event, and caused quite a flutter of excitement +in the office; but it was not until the afternoon that Desmond learned +the reason. He was summoned into the Chief's office to find Mr. +Jackson, grey-faced and worn, a broken man. + +"I have ill news, my boy," he said very kindly to Desmond. "Sylvia has +run away with Custance." + +Desmond made no reply. Suddenly the world had altered for him; he had +passed out of the light into an impenetrable blackness. He sat with his +head bent down, changed in a moment from a light-hearted boy to a +despairing man. + +"I want you to come home and fill the place that she had. Mrs. Jackson +and I love you, and we need a child." Mr. Jackson continued. + +"I can't do it," cried Desmond. "I should be thinking of her all the +time. I have lost all faith." + +And so the world believed; for Desmond O'Connor, while he eschewed the +coarser vices and worked relentlessly, renounced for a period the +religion that his father's life should have made dear to him, and went +on his way a professed disbeliever. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE VIRTUE OF GREY TOWN. + + +The City Fathers who governed the municipality of Grey Town were not +unlike the councillors in other towns and cities. They laid no claim to +a pre-eminence in wisdom, professing to be merely ordinary men of +business, of sound common sense, and strictly honest for the greater +part. + +Councillor Garnett was perhaps the single exception to this rule of +honesty. The other councillors worked from a sense of duty, possibly +urged by a worthy ambition. Councillor Garnett occasionally dipped his +hand in the municipal purse, and brought from it as many golden guineas +as he could clutch. Yet he had led the Council for many years, and was +still regarded by the Conservative element as a worthy leader. In all +probability he would have continued to rule the civic affairs of Grey +Town had not Denis Quirk come to the town to turn things upside down and +sweep away certain municipal cobwebs. + +The question as to the purchase of a block of land in the town for the +erection of Council stables and cart houses was made a test question by +both parties as to who should control the future destinies of Grey Town. + +It had already been decided to erect the necessary buildings. Councillor +Garnett had then moved that a certain vacant section in one of the +streets should be purchased, when Denis Quirk rose to his feet. + +Immediately there was a certain electrical excitement in the Council +Chambers, that was reflected in the alert faces of the councillors. They +sat attentively with expectant ears as he began to speak. + +"Sir," he said, "I am here to oppose anything that approaches municipal +corruption." + +"I object to that word," growled Garnett. + +"You object to the word and I object to the deed," Denis replied, +quietly. "We are not here to line our own pockets, or, if we are here +for that purpose, we are in the wrong place. Our purpose should be to +act as watch-dogs for the ratepayers, to guard their interests. What if +the dogs start to worry the sheep? I accuse Councillor Garnett in this +matter of abusing his position as a councillor. I accuse him of +disingenuousness that borders on fraud." + +"Oh, come, come," said an elderly councillor, who was constantly +scandalised by Denis Quirk's want of municipal decorum. "Fraud is an +unpleasant word." + +"Undoubtedly," Denis continued. "But it amounts to that. Councillor +Garnett is directly interested in the land that he is urging the Council +to purchase at a false price." + +The words were spoken quietly, and with a certain deliberation that was +impressive. + +"That is a lie!" cried Councillor Garnett, now aroused to fury. + +"Order! Order!" cried the Mayor. "I ask Councillor Garnett to withdraw +that word." + +"Let Councillor Quirk withdraw his accusation first," suggested another +councillor. + +"I intend to prove it," answered Denis. "Will Councillor Garnett tell me +who is George Haynes?" + +"How should I know?" replied Councillor Garnett, doggedly thrusting his +hands in his trousers pockets and tilting his chair backwards. + +"Who should know better than you? George Haynes is a dummy, a former +clerk in your office, who has been made to appear the owner of this land +to cover you in this transaction. I have the copy of a deed here that +directly proves my statement." + +"How did you obtain it?" asked Garnett, when someone plucked his sleeve +and thrust a paper in to his hands. + +"Turn the tables on him. Ask him why he left Goldenvale; has he been +divorced; and what about the funds of the Goldenvale Investment Society +which he was accused of embezzling?" he read; but, when he turned to see +the messenger, the latter had vanished. + +"Never mind how I obtained it. May I read it?" Denis asked the Mayor. + +"One minute first. Let us have the credentials of this reformer before +we listen to his accusation. I refuse to be judged by a dissolute +ruffian, a divorced man and one accused of embezzling the funds of an +investment society. Why did Councillor Quirk leave Goldenvale?" cried +Councillor Garnett, triumphantly. + +This accusation came as a thunderbolt to the Council, when those who +were friendly to Garnett were pondering how they should act in view of +Denis Quirk's charges; and those who stood opposed to Garnett were +rejoicing in his discomfort. To the former his counter charges came as a +relief; to the latter they brought doubt and consternation. Only one man +seemed perfectly composed and he was the person accused. + +"My past history does not concern the Council if I can prove my present +statement," he said very quietly. + +"It concerns the Council vitally. How can we believe a man with your +reputation?" asked Garnett. + +"The latter part of that charge is false." + +Again a paper was thrust into Garnett's hand. This time Denis Quirk +noted the action, and the face of Gerard, the messenger. He smiled +grimly. + +Garnett glanced at the paper and read the heading. + +"Quirk in Court. Accused of misappropriating the funds of the Investment +Society. Case part heard." + +"Does Councillor Quirk know this paper?" he asked. "The 'Goldenvale +Investigator?'" + +"I used to know it. It was a rival of my own paper, 'The Firebrand,' and +a most unscrupulous paper." + +"Perhaps you remember this?" + +Garnett handed the paper across the table to Denis. + +Denis read the heading aloud to the Council, ending with the last lines: +"Case part heard." + +"Have you the next issue of this rag?" he asked. "If so, you will find +that the result of this case was a complete vindication. I was +triumphantly acquitted. A month later you will find an abject apology +from 'The Investigator.' This was a trumped-up affair, the work of my +enemies. To-morrow I shall publish the full details in 'The Mercury.'" + +But the Council were determined that he should no longer be heard. When +he asked again: + +"May I read this document?" the Mayor replied: + +"I do not think it is in order." + +"I intend to read it," cried Denis. + +"I rule you out of order," answered the Mayor. + +Denis began to read slowly and deliberately, but the opposing +councillors prevented him with a babel of cries. The meeting finally +broke up in great disorder, after Denis had attempted to make himself +heard and had been escorted from the Council Chambers by the Town Clerk. + +The following day he began his battle with Grey Town, a fight in which +all fair-minded and right-thinking men conceded him a victory. He +published the full account of the proceedings in the Goldenvale Court, +ending in a triumphant acquittal, and the subsequent apology in "The +Investigator." He also published the document purporting to be signed by +George Haynes. It was an acknowledgment of the loan of a sum of money, +equivalent to that which Haynes had paid for the land under offer to the +Council, and a promise to repay the money at an exorbitant rate of +interest to Garnett. Very few impartial men doubted the real meaning of +the transaction. + +But Garnett knew Grey Town. It was not a particularly moral town, but +there were periods when it arose in virtuous indignation to punish the +evil-doer, and it generally selected as its victim the man who was the +least guilty. Denis Quirk was made the object of one of these outbursts +of public morality. He was a man of dissolute morals, divorced under +peculiar circumstances. Denis Quirk must be booted out of Grey Town. + +The Quirks were at breakfast on the day that followed the scene in the +Council Chambers; only Denis was absent. Samuel Quirk was reading "The +Mercury" when his son's name caught his eye. + +"What is this about Denis?" he cried; but as he read he wished he had +not spoken, for he loved and respected his wife, notwithstanding his +professed scorn for her. + +"And what is it?" she asked. + +"Never you mind. Denis can fight for himself," he answered. + +"Just read it to me," she urged. + +"What for would a woman be wanting to hear such things?" he answered, +and thrust the paper in his pocket as he went out. + +But Mrs. Quirk was determined to know. She had noted the frown on her +husband's face, and gathered from it that he was reading ill news. + +"Just slip out, Honey, and ask Joe for his copy. I must know the worst," +she said to Kathleen. + +"Mr. Quirk does not wish you to know," Kathleen suggested. + +"Not knowing is worse than the very illest news. I will be in a fever +until I hear. Just run away and do what I ask of you." + +Kathleen recognised that Mrs. Quirk was determined, and wisely obeyed +without further hesitation. But when she saw the nature of the charges +she paused before reading them aloud to the old lady. + +Denis Quirk, with his customary straightforwardness and honesty, had +printed the account of the scene in the Council Chambers word for word. +There it stood--his own accusation and the counter-charges urged against +him. He had attempted neither palliation nor excuse. But in the same +issue of "The Mercury" he had reproduced the account of the proceedings +in the Golden Vale Court, that had ended in his acquittal. More than +this, he had reprinted the apology of "The Investigator," as it had +appeared in that paper. + +But to Kathleen and to Mrs. Quirk the account of the divorce proceedings +was the most serious indictment against Denis, and here he offered +neither denial nor excuse. Both women held firmly to the belief that +marriage is sacred and irrevocable, and that no human power--nothing +short of death--can annul the bond uniting man and wife. + +Fearing to hurt her old friend, Kathleen attempted to avoid this part of +the accusation. But she was a bad dissembler, and Mrs. Quirk very keen. + +"There is something more, Honey. Let me hear all that those backbiters +found to say," she urged. + +When she had learned the full account of the charges, she burst out into +lamentation. + +"To think of it!" she cried. "Denis, the apple of my eye, to be in that +Divorce Court! It is, for sure, the wickedest place ever invented by +man--and him there!" + +"But he did not appear," said Kathleen. + +"And them saying all those things against him! Where was he, then, if +not giving them back the lie? I don't believe it, not one word of it +all. He has his enemies, and they have invented this. Oh, why isn't +Father Healy here to advise me?" + +"Why not go and ask Denis?" suggested Kathleen. "He will tell you the +truth." + +"Do you believe he did what they say of him?" + +Kathleen looked out at the bright sky flecked with white clouds, at the +green lawns, and the masses of colour in the flower-beds. The sun was +shining brightly, scores of birds uniting in melody, music, brightness +and peace everywhere. + +"I would almost as soon believe that this world was not created by +Almighty God," she answered, without disrespect, for she had a profound +trust in Denis Quirk. + +"God bless you, Honey! Then why should I be doubting him? I will go and +speak to the boy. Sure, he never yet lied to me. If he has sinned, the +Lord forgive him. And what am I to judge him?" + +The motor was ordered at once, and in a short space of time it carried +Mrs. Quirk and Kathleen to "The Mercury" office. Tim O'Neill was in the +outer office, bright-faced and very busy, as was his custom. He welcomed +the ladies with a smile. + +"Is Denis in?" asked Mrs. Quirk. + +"Mr. Quirk? Yes, he is in. Were you wanting to see him?" Tim replied. + +"Who else?" said Mrs. Quirk. + +"I will stay here and talk to Tim," suggested Kathleen. "That is, if Tim +can spare the time." + +Tim was a gallant youth, and he answered blushingly that it was an +honour and pleasure to speak to Miss O'Connor. Meanwhile Mrs. Quirk +entered her son's room. + +Denis Quirk was reckoning up the consequences of the last night's +proceedings, and considering the best method of carrying on the +campaign. As his mother entered he looked up with a frown, that changed +into a smile when he saw who his visitor was. + +He had constantly urged her to inspect the office, but she had always +refused to come. + +"Sure, you are busy; and what would you be doing with an old body like +me?" she was accustomed to say. + +"So you have come to visit me at last?" he cried. + +"I have come to talk to you, because I could not wait until you had come +home," she answered. "What is this in the paper?" + +He had hoped that she might not hear of his trouble, knowing how seldom +she interested herself in the contents of a paper. + +"Who has been telling you?" he asked. + +"Who but himself at first, and when he would not satisfy me I ordered +Kathleen to read it to me," she answered. "Oh, Denis, the shame of it! +That anyone should dare say that you were a divorced man!" + +"It's the truth, mother," he answered through his teeth. + +"You, the son I was always proud of, to be going into a place like that! +It is a shame that there should be such iniquitous places in a Christian +land!" she cried. + +Denis put his hand very gently on her shoulder in a caressing manner +that was out of keeping with his accustomed attitude. + +"See here, mother," he answered, "a man can only be judged in the light +of the Eternal Truth. In that light I am innocent." + +"Then why not prove them liars that have spoken these things against +you?" she asked. + +"Someone had to suffer, and I could best bear it. I am a man, a strong, +hard piece of humanity, and well able to stand a few bad names. But +there are others, weak and frail, who would be destroyed by the scandal +of bitter tongues. Better the world should abuse me than them. Some day +I shall stand innocent in the eyes of the world as in the sight of God." + +"Then it is all lies?" she asked, looking into his brave, ugly face. + +"It is true that I was divorced, and true that I am innocent," he +answered. + +"I believe you," she cried, throwing her arms around his neck and +kissing him. "My heart is light again. Little I care what people may say +or think when I know it is false. Sure, there is only one that can truly +judge us, Almighty God, and to Him I will go and return thanks." + +She went smilingly out of the office, and Kathleen recognised that +Denis Quirk had proved his innocence to his mother's satisfaction. + +Ebenezer Brown seized the opportunity for reviving "The Observer" with +Gerard as editor. In capability and brilliance he was not to be compared +with Cairns, but the public marked its disapprobation of Denis Quirk by +supporting "The Observer" and neglecting its rival. Day by day the +circulation and the advertisements of "The Mercury" dwindled until at +last Denis Quirk summoned a meeting of those interested in his paper. + +"If we intend to win out, I must go," he said. "The public has awoke to +a sense of virtue and selected me for punishment. It has blundered on +the wrong man, but that does not make the case any better. When I have +gone, "The Mercury" will return to its own and destroy 'The Observer'." + +"I say stay in Grey Town and fight it out," said Dr. Marsh. "I am +prepared to put my last penny into the paper." + +Samuel Quirk was there with Dr. Marsh, Cairns, and the staff of the +paper, right down to Tim O'Neill. + +"Would you be running away?" Samuel Quirk asked indignantly, "with me to +help you fight the blackguards? You, an Irishman, whose fathers have +battled for independence in the dark days as in the fine ones? No, Denis +you will remain here and trample 'The Observer' under your feet once +again." + +"I don't need any pay, sir," said Tim O'Neill. "I'll work for nothing, +just for the love of you and the old 'Mercury'." + +"Good boy, Tim! You are gold from the hair of your head to the soles of +your feet. But I shall go to Melbourne and open out there. Once I am +out, 'The Mercury' will have a fair run, and Ebenezer Brown, Gerard, and +Garnett will be sorry they invested their money in a hopeless cause. You +shall buy me out, Dad." + +The day before Denis Quirk's departure he found Kathleen alone in the +dining room. + +"Miss O'Connor," he said, speaking less confidently than was his custom. +"I am not an idealist. As a general rule I class men and women as bad or +indifferent, but I have a great respect for you, and I want you to +believe in me." + +"I do," cried Kathleen eagerly. + +"Men have been tried and convicted on false evidence," he went on. "The +world judges us by results, but I want you to disregard the past and +take my word that I am innocent." + +"I have always believed it," she said. + +"Thank you," he said, and was turning away when Kathleen said: + +"You are going to Melbourne, Mr. Quirk. I place Desmond in your hands. +Bring him back to the Faith." + +"I shall do my best, but no man can constrain another. Desmond must work +out his own salvation," he answered. + +When his business was completed, Denis Quirk departed from Grey Town. +But Ebenezer Brown and his satellites discovered that his absence made +things even more uncomfortable for them than had been the case during +his presence in the town. "The Mercury" rose buoyantly to resume its old +power; and in a month's time it had crippled its rival beyond recovery. +Samuel Quirk took his son's place on the Council, and there asserted +himself so triumphantly that Councillor Garnett recognised that it was +time for him to retire. Grey Town awoke to sudden municipal vigour, and +the town put on a modern, up-to-date appearance, in keeping with a new +commercial activity. Those who had flourished under the old system +retired to their holes, impotently cursing the new regime. Their triumph +over Denis Quirk had proved a veritable disaster to Ebenezer Brown and +his companions in evil. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +FATHER HEALY'S MISSION. + + +It was a warm night, and Father Healy was entertaining his friends in +the garden of the Presbytery. They sat together on the green lawn that +faces the town and the distant ocean. In a quiet and secluded place, +just within earshot of their conversation, Molly Healy sat on the lawn, +her back supported by a big pine tree. Near her a kitten was playing +with Mollie's collie dog. Father Healy had returned from Goldenvale, and +his cronies had gathered together to greet him, and hear from his lips +the account of his travels. Dr. Marsh asked, abruptly, almost +impatiently: + +"Your mission was a failure, Father Healy?" + +"Not entirely a failure," answered the priest. "I have brought back no +evidence to prove Denis Quirk innocent, but I am convinced that he is." + +"You went away with a bias in his favour," suggested Clark. + +"I did, and I come home still more biassed. I saw the priest who wrote +to me, a good man, but to my mind a poor student of human nature. He +received me kindly, and made me welcome. In the evening we talked of +Denis Quirk. He told me what a great man Denis had been before the +divorce case. There never was such a scandal in Goldenvale. I asked him +what sort of a woman was Mrs. Quirk. 'A splendid lady,' said he, 'clever +and talented. She was under instruction for the Church at the time, but, +naturally, she did not go on after divorcing her husband.' 'And how do +you reconcile a good man, going to his duties regularly, doing the +things Denis was accused of?' said I, quoting the old Latin proverb, 'No +one becomes suddenly altogether base.' 'That was where the scandal was,' +he answered me. 'Did he leave Goldenvale in disgrace?' I asked him. 'No, +he stayed on, and went and talked the Bishop over. The Bishop wrote to +me; I have his letter, and you may see it,' said this good priest." + +"And what did the Bishop say?" asked Mr. Green, who had listened +attentively. + +"He just told Father Richardson that Denis had seen him, and that there +was no valid reason to prevent him from the Sacraments." + +"Did you meet Gerard there by any chance?" Dr. Marsh asked. + +"I did, and never were two men more surprised than when we ran into each +other's arms round a corner. Gerard began to explain why he was there. +You see, he had a maiden aunt in the town," said Father Healy, smiling +all over his face, "and I had a cousin, which was true, for I discovered +him soon after my arrival there. The next day Gerard called on me, and +began to tell me about Denis Quirk. He was grieved over it, the poor +man! It was as bad as if his great grandmother had just died." At this +sally the company laughed. + +"I told him," continued Father Healy, "it did not surprise me. It is a +wicked world, and it would not astonish me to hear that you yourself +were not quite perfect, said I." + +"Not quite perfect," growled Dr. Marsh. "If ever there was a thief, +Gerard is the man." + +"How do you prove that, Doctor?" asked Clark. + +"From the company he keeps. To be hand in glove with Ebenezer Brown is +certain proof of a man's criminality." + +"Merely presumptive evidence," replied Clark. + +"Did you make further enquiries?" asked Mr. Green of Father Healy. + +"I saw Mrs. Quirk--that used to be--and Mrs. Clarence that is now." + +Dr. Marsh grunted, as was his way when anyone of whom he disapproved was +mentioned. + +"And what did you think of her?" he asked. + +"That divorce is a failure. If ever there was an unhappy woman, Mrs. +Clarence is that one. I sent up my card to her; presently she sent down +a message: 'Would Father Healy come up?' I went up three stories in a +lift to the prettiest little flat you can imagine. A nice, tidy maid +showed me into a charming little room, and there I found the lady. She +is an artist, and a clever one, they tell me; a pretty woman, and +agreeable; but unhappy, if I am any judge of happiness. I told her where +I had come from, and what do you think she asked me, 'Did I know Denis +Quirk?' 'Know him,' said I, 'of course I do; a fine man, and honest.' +Then she began to praise him, until at last I asked her: 'Did you know +him?' The lady was lost in confusion, but at last she answered: 'We were +married.' 'And what are you now?' I asked her." + +"That was not like your customary caution," said Mr. Green. + +"It was a mistake, but I was hot with indignation at her asking for +Denis. She shut up at once like the blade of a knife. But before I left +her she said to me, 'Will you give Denis Quirk a message?' 'Certainly I +will,' I answered her. 'Tell him I shall never forget his nobility,' she +said. What do you make of that?" + +"It was not the message of a deeply-wronged woman," said Mr. Green. + +"Precisely my opinion, but I wasted no more words on her, merely, 'Good +day, Madam.' As I was leaving the flat I met a man at the door, short, +stout, with bloodshot eyes, and baggy eyelids. 'What are you doing +here?' said he. 'Paying a morning call,' I answered. Thereupon he began +to call me unpleasant names, but I brushed him on one side, and went +home to wash my hands. I pity that poor lady, that has leaped from the +frying pan into the fire." + +"And there your enquiries ended?" suggested Clark. + +"I paid my respects to his Lordship, a kindly old man, with plenty of +common sense. 'I know nothing of Denis Quirk,' said he, because, as I +understood, his lips were closed by the seal of Confession. 'But,' he +asked me, 'what do you think of him?' 'I believe he is innocent,' I +answered. 'Speaking as a man who has carefully reviewed the case, I +believe you are right,' said he. What do you think of my mission, Mr. +Green?" + +"With you, I consider it not altogether a failure," the clergyman +answered; then, as an afterthought, "If all Roman Catholics were like +you, we would all be Roman Catholics." + +"There are many better than I, and a few worse. You must make allowances +for the weaknesses of human nature," the priest answered. "Come inside +now and play bridge." + +"Did you see Desmond O'Connor on your way home?" asked Dr. Marsh. + +Molly Healy, from her secluded place, strained her ears to catch her +brother's answer. + +"Naturally I did," he said. "Desmond is a great man now, a partner in +the firm of Jackson and Company, and coining money, they tell me." + +With this he intended to content them, but Dr. Marsh asked, +inquisitively: + +"Did you bring him back to your Church?" + +"I did not try. There are seasons to speak and seasons to say nothing. +It was not the time to argue with him." + +"Why not the time? You could have put him on the broad of his back," +said Dr. Marsh. + +"To what purpose? I was not there to quarrel with him. The boy will come +round.... Let us get to bridge!" + +Molly Healy, in the quiet of the garden, turned her eyes towards the +dark, limitless ocean. She could not see it, but its droning was in her +ears. To it she often turned in her moments of depression, when she +walked in those lower depths of melancholy that are occasional with +natures which mount to the heights of happiness and merriment. It seemed +to her that the ocean was responsive to her moods, that it answered back +her mirth, and whispered sadly when she was depressed. Looking towards +it now, she whispered: + +"Desmond O'Connor will win through. Sure, I will start Bridget Malone +praying for him. They say she never failed to get what she asked for." + +Therewith she followed the men inside, to find them playing their game +in the silence of strict bridge. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THROUGH THE GORGE. + + +Kathleen O'Connor had been spending the day with Mrs. Sheridan, and was +returning slowly, laden with the gossip of the countryside, her rein +hanging loosely on Douglas' neck. + +She had many things to trouble her young mind at that moment. The +thought of Desmond was always with her; she could not reconcile herself +to his professed want of faith. Though Father Healy told her to have no +fear, and Mrs. Quirk bade her trust in God, she carried a heavy heart +for her brother. + +Only the day previously yet another sorrow had been confided to her. She +had accompanied her dear old friend, her second mother as she called +her, to Dr. Marsh. After the examination the doctor had called her back +into his surgery. + +"I give her six months to live," he said; "but you must keep it to +yourself. Old Samuel Quirk has a heart that might stop at any moment. He +must not know." + +"I may write to Denis Quirk?" she asked, anxious to share the burden +with someone. + +"By all means. But tell him not to come back until I send for him," the +doctor answered. + +She had accordingly written to Denis Quirk, confiding the ill news to +him. The prospect of separation from Mrs. Quirk was hard to bear, for +she was a mother, and "Layton," a home, to the girl. + +The road from Mrs. Sheridan's farm to the lower bridge now dips down +beside the river, and now rises high above, where it runs through the +Gorge. It was at a spot where the river banks are low that Kathleen +heard her name called from the river. Looking towards the spot whence +the voice came, she saw Gerard seated in a boat that he had moored to +the bank. He had been fishing, pipe in mouth, for with the failure of +the "Observer," he had returned to desultory journalism and idleness. + +Kathleen reined her horse in, and he scrambled out of the boat and came +towards her. He was wearing a low-necked shirt; his face and neck were +tanned by the sun, as were the arms, bare to the elbow. Without doubt he +was a handsome man, and the bold, devil-may-care expression on his face +did not make him the less attractive. Kathleen knew that many a girl in +the district, well-to-do and not bad looking, would have welcomed the +attentions of Gerard. + +But, ever since his return from Goldenvale, Kathleen had recognised that +the old feeling for him had died out of her heart. He had expected to +resume the old, intimate relations, but she had held him at arm's +length. Two things were accountable for this--a dread of the influence +he had once exerted over her, and resentment of the part he had played +in the downfall of Denis Quirk. Gerard had not accepted the girl's +change of attitude with philosophy, although he had given no sign that +it affected him. He smiled pleasantly as he stood beside her horse's +head, one hand stroking the satiny skin, the other on the bridle rein. + +"This is quite a pleasant chance," he said. "We never meet one another +now." + +Kathleen murmured something about being so very busy. + +"It is my loss," he answered. "But there is no reason why we should not +make the most of this chance meeting. There is my boat. Tie your horse +to a tree and allow me to scull you up the river." + +"I have no time," Kathleen replied. "I must hurry home to Mrs. Quirk." + +"Nonsense," he answered; "Mrs. Quirk can wait for once. You can't refuse +me the last favour I shall ever ask of you." + +"I can and I will," Kathleen answered; then she added, with a laugh: +"You can find any number of girls only too willing to take my place." + +"Undoubtedly, but I am a man of caprice. If I order turkey for dinner, I +will have turkey or nothing. To-day I intend that you shall do what I +ask. If you will do it gracefully, I shall accept it as a great favour; +if you refuse, I shall be compelled to insist." + +Kathleen became frightened. She cast a glance at his face, careless and +bold, staring up into her own with an ardent admiration, and a second +glance around her. The place was lonely and unfrequented; only +occasionally did a farmer's cart or gig drive along the road. On the +further bank of the river a line of pine trees hid them from the distant +farm-houses. Under these circumstances it was wisest to temporise. + +"If I accept, how long will you keep me?" she asked. + +"That depends entirely on the amount of entertainment I find in your +society." + +"Then I will accept. Will you kindly tie my horse to that tree?" + +She dismounted quickly, refusing the help he offered her. Then she threw +the reins in to his hands. The nearest tree was some yards distant, and +she waited until Gerard had approached it. Then she suddenly made a run +towards the boat, and, unhitching the rope, stepped in, and pushed out +from the shore. Gerard, seeing what she had done, ran towards the river +with a loud curse. + +Kathleen could row, and she put the oars in the rowlocks, and sat down +to scull. At the same moment Gerard sprang from the bank into the +stream, and began swimming towards the boat. Kathleen strained at the +oars, and little by little the distance between them increased, although +Gerard was a strong swimmer. + +But there are sand-spits on the Grey, and on one of these the boat +stranded. With a loud shout, Gerard welcomed the fact, while he made +stronger exertions to gain the boat. Kathleen seized an oar, and stood +up, attempting to free the boat from the obstruction. The boat began to +yield to her exertions, but Gerard came nearer and nearer. Just as she +had set the boat free his hands were on the gunwale of the boat, but +she raised the oar and brought it down smartly across his knuckles. With +a fresh curse he let go, and a moment later the boat was drifting +further and further from him. + +It is a dangerous passage, even for a skilled oarsman, through the Gorge +of the Grey River. In times of flood no man who laid claims to sanity +would attempt the feat; but, even when the river is low and flows +quietly if swiftly, there are rocks and snags that obstruct the passage. +To strike one of these would mean a total wreck. + +On either side of the river the masses of grey rock ascend steep and +slippery from the surface of the water. The stream is deep to the very +edges of the cliff, offering but little foothold to one who would climb +from the water to firm land. Here and there the caves break the even +surface of the rocks, and in yet other places great masses jut out in +fantastic shapes above the water. It is always dark and cool in the +Gorge, for the sun never penetrates there excepting in stray beams; a +pleasant place of a hot summer's day, with an expert oarsman and +coxswain to make a safe passage, but full of peril to a young girl alone +in a skiff. + +Kathleen O'Connor was, however, so glad to be freed from Gerard, not so +much because she feared physical violence as on account of the uncanny +influence he had over her, that she faced the passage of the Gorge +almost with equanimity. She recognised the danger, for more than one +narrow escape from drowning was chronicled in connection with the +place, and she crouched in the bow of the boat with an oar in her hand, +watching anxiously for rock and snags. Now and then she used the blade +of her oar as a paddle to prevent the boat from turning broadside to the +current. In this manner she was carried safely through the Gorge. + +Kathleen O'Connor's passage down the Grey is recorded as the first +occasion on which a woman accomplished the feat alone. Others have done +it since then from bravado and a desire for notoriety. Kathleen was +compelled to be the pioneer among women by fear. The following day she +had a paragraph to herself in both papers, and Grey Town was led to +believe that she had made the passage merely from a love of adventure. +This story was never contradicted, but, like many other tales of +adventure, it is untrue. + +At last she found herself safe in the wider expanse of water below the +Gorge, an object of interest and admiration to the fishers and boating +men who frequent that part of the Grey. Of them Kathleen took little +notice. She scrambled back to the sculler's seat, and after a short pull +found herself beside the boat shed. + +Tomkins, who kept the boat shed, was smoking his pipe on the landing +stage when Kathleen drifted out from the Gorge. Shading his eyes with a +big, rough hand, he stood watching her in amazement. + +"It's Miss O'Connor," he muttered to a man beside him, "and she's come +through alone. She's the last woman I'd have expected to do such a +thing!" + +"You never can tell what a woman will do these times. We'll be taking a +back seat in the kitchen before long," answered the other. + +"But Miss O'Connor's not that sort," said Tomkins. "What I can't make +out is this: I let that boat to Gerard. What's become of him?" + +As Kathleen stepped from the boat, Tomkins greeted her with applause, +seasoned with advice. + +"You've done something, miss, that no other woman ever did before. But +never you try it again. Next time you and the boat may come drifting +down, the one after the other." + +"I have no intention of trying the Gorge again," answered Kathleen. +"Thank God, I am safe!" + +As she was about to leave the shed, to make her amazement more complete, +Gerard rode up on her horse and reined in. His clothes were damp and +clung to him, but he disregarded that. "You have won your wager, Miss +O'Connor!" he cried; "but you went with your life in your hands." + +Kathleen was too much astounded by his audacity to reply. He dismounted +and lifted her into the saddle holding her rein for one short moment, +while he said in a low voice: + +"You have nothing more to fear from me. You have taught me a lesson, +and, by Jove! you are a well-plucked one." + +She did not pause to answer him, but, giving Douglas a cut with the +whip, rode away at a smart canter to "Layton." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +"THE FREELANCE." + + +Denis Quirk was a man of courage and energy. He had an almost heroic +disregard of public opinion; if those few whom he loved would give him +their faith, the rest of the world might praise or condemn him at will. +Had it not been that the future of "The Mercury" was imperilled by his +presence, and that Dr. Marsh was interested in the success of the paper, +he would have remained at Grey Town to fight on until the tide had +turned or want of funds compelled him to close down. As it was, he sold +his share to his father for no more than he had originally invested in +the paper, and went to Melbourne to start a weekly magazine, "The +Freelance." + +In this undertaking, he was able to ensure success by his own ability +and, perhaps to a still greater degree, by the assistance of Jackson and +O'Connor, who were at that time the leading advertising firm in +Melbourne. + +Prior to giving him support, Jackson stepped into Desmond O'Connor's +room to debate Denis Quirk's credentials with his junior. + +"See here, Desmond," he said, "you know more about Quirk than I. We were +together on "The Golden Eagle" at Fenton before he went to America, and +we have continued friends right down to to-day, but his ability is an +unknown quantity to me." + +Desmond O'Connor heard this remark with considerable interest. + +"Do you also know Gerard?" he asked. + +"Never heard the name." + +"Then I have to thank Denis Quirk for your interest in me?" + +Jackson had forgotten Denis Quirk's letter, with its request to keep the +latter's name a secret from Desmond. He answered readily: + +"Partly Quirk; but largely yourself. Quirk sent me to you and I liked +you. That was my reason for helping you in the beginning; later on you +helped yourself." + +"I have done Quirk an injustice, and now I can help him. Well he +deserves it. Quirk is a born journalist. He understands the public as no +other man does, and knows what to say to them and how to say it. This +paper of his is a certain success." + +"Then we will support him. Put the 'Freelance's' name down for a regular +column of advertisement," said Jackson. + +"I will slip round and see Quirk," suggested Desmond. + +Denis Quirk was in his office, busy in putting his ideas into effect +with a piece of foolscap in front of him, and the telephone receiver +close at hand. + +"Jackson and O'Connor re advertisement," he read on his list. + +"I may as well try them; probably they will say: 'Prove yourself, and +we will support you.'" + +He rang the bell, and had the receiver at his ear, when Desmond entered. + +"It is all right, Exchange," he cried. "I will ring up again. Hullo, +O'Connor! Glad to see you. I was just ringing the office up. Take a +seat." + +Desmond sat down. + +"Quirk," he said; "I owe you a good deal." + +"That old chatterbox, Jackson! Has he been bleating?" Denis asked. + +"Inadvertently he opened the bag, and out jumped the cat. You are a +little bit old-fashioned, Quirk. If every man hid his virtues as you do, +Jackson and O'Connor would be forced to close down. I have been +crediting Gerard with your balance in my gratitude ledger." + +"Gerard!" cried Denis. "What made you select him?" + +"He professed so much. If I had all Gerard promised me I would be a +multi-millionaire. But I am not ungrateful. Jackson and I can help you a +little; count on us!" + +"Thanks, Desmond. At present you are invaluable to me, as much because +of the weight you carry with the public as for the L s. d. I don't think +you are making a mistake because I intend to succeed, and I haven't +drawn a blank yet." + +"Oh, you'll succeed, Quirk; that's a foregone conclusion.... Are you +looking for rooms?" Desmond asked. + +"At present I am staying at the 'Exchange,' but there's no privacy +there. Do you know of a quiet, respectable place?" + +"I can offer you a share in my flat in Collins Street," said Desmond. "I +have the best man in Melbourne, miles ahead of any woman ever born; a +self-respecting fellow, who expects good wages and earns them. He keeps +the flat in A1 order, cooks well enough to content even you----." + +"Hang it! I am not a gourmand," Denis Quirk interjected. + +"I am not accusing you of gluttony, my friend! I know from experience +you like your work well done, even if it happens to be the preparation +of an omelette on a Friday. I suppose you still hold to your old +prejudice against meat on a Friday?" asked Denis with a smile. + +"Undoubtedly! Not from any objection to meat, but as a mark of loyalty +and obedience," Denis replied. + +"I avoid it myself; merely from a health point of view. I have thrown +the old traditions and superstitions to the winds. I am a free man," +said Desmond. + +"Do you wear a hat in the street?" Denis asked laughingly; "and a coat; +or have you descended to the habits of your ancestors and eschewed +clothes on a hot day?" + +"No, my good man, and for an excellent reason. I have no desire to run +counter to the law," replied Desmond. + +"Precisely my reason for abstinence on Friday; but my law is a moral +one, and my justice of the peace that stern fellow, conscience. Don't +talk to me of traditions and superstitions. You, free men, are more +bound by superstitions than we who profess to be servants to a kindly +mistress.... I will share your flat and your wonderful man; and give you +the benefit of my beauty and my intelligent conversation on one +condition. We will swear a truce of God, neither shall run atilt at the +other's convictions until he is invited to do so. Is it an +understanding?" said Denis. + +"Agreed! Go your own way and leave me in peace," said Desmond. + +Thus did it come about that these two men shared the same flat and lived +on a hearty brotherly footing, although their views were diametrically +opposed. Around them they gathered a Bohemian band of companions, of all +creeds and every condition of life. Lawyers, doctors, actors, +journalists, and politicians; if they were decent, straight-living men, +with something to give in thought for that which they received, the +Bachelors' flat in Collins Street, as it was termed, was open to them +all. Denis Quirk lived strenuously as was his way, making "The +Freelance" a power in the land. He set himself to found a school of +journalists who wrote for the love of truth and scorned the mean and +paltry things of life. As with "The Mercury," Denis Quirk made his new +organ a censor of all that is contemptible. + +Desmond O'Connor, for his part, lived the parti-coloured life of other +men, business and pleasure in equal portions. Occasionally he assisted +Quirk with a black and white sketch for "The Freelance." He still +retained his old power as an artist, and Denis Quirk turned to him in +preference to the regular staff when he desired a particularly striking +sketch. + +"Just sit down, Desmond, and illustrate this article. The initials, D. +O'C., are always appreciated," he would say. + +"So I have every reason to believe. I am a genius and I know it. But +anything, even undesired artistic fame, to oblige you," Desmond would +answer. + +He had a heartfelt admiration for Denis Quirk, whose fate it was to win +the love or hate of those who knew him. None who came in contact with +him failed to appreciate the strength of his personality, and he threw +himself resolutely on the side of truth. Those who lived on injustice +and untruth would willingly have destroyed him because he exposed them +relentlessly to public odium; the honest and straightforward placed him +on a pedestal as a just man. "Good old Quirk" was a synonym for strength +and uprightness of life in those days. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +GREAT IS THE TRUTH. + + +"Bachelors' Flat," in Collins Street, was peculiarly silent. The +customary visitors paused in the hall downstairs and did not venture to +ascend to the third floor of the mansions. Merely a sympathetic message +to the caretaker, a few parting words of hope, or a shake of the head, +and they passed on into the busy world outside. + +In the flat itself men and women walked with quiet feet and spoke to one +another in whispers, saving in the darkened room where Desmond O'Connor +chattered unceasingly, and now shouted or laughed in the wildness of +delirium. A nurse was installed in his room, a quiet and gentle little +lady, never hurried yet never slow; always patient, with a coaxing +manner and a soft voice. When he was sensible Desmond called her the +Angel of Mercy; in his delirium he spoke to her always as Sylvia. Even +in his wildest ravings, when he muttered and shouted sentences he had +heard from the lips of others and never sullied his own lips with, he +was always respectful to her. + +Kathleen O'Connor and Molly Healy were with her as untrained auxiliaries +to take her place and implicitly follow her directions when sleep could +no longer be denied. To them she gave the highest praise in her power +when she remarked approvingly: + +"You should have been nurses, both of you." + +Denis Quirk had resigned his room to the nurses, and when he slept +stretched himself out on the couch in the dining-room. He was watching +anxiously for his friend's moment of softening when Desmond would need +and ask for a priest. By a special arrangement the Archbishop had +granted to Father Healy the permission to attend Desmond, if he desired +a confessor. Then, day or night, as soon as the telephone carried the +expected message, the parish priest of Grey Town was prepared to hasten +in a motor car to Melbourne. + +But the fever had gone on to the dread third week, where death crouches +beside the patient's sick bed, and Desmond had made no sign. The doctor +came and went frequently, having the brand of anxiety plainly printed on +his face; the nurse had curtailed her hours of sleep to the minimum of +possibility, and the message had not been sent. + +"Why will he not surrender?" sighed Kathleen O'Connor. "I have asked him +to see Father Healy, and he always answers, 'No.'" + +"The good God is just trying us," said Molly Healy. "He wishes to see +how far our faith will go. But I am hoping that mine will stretch a +little further yet; for it needs to be elastic in times like this." + +Denis Quirk came in from his work, a little older and more tired-looking +than he had been, but just as warm-hearted and humorous as when life +was moving like a well-oiled machine. + +"Any improvement?" he asked. + +Kathleen shook her head, while tears filled her eyes. + +"We are so weak and powerless," she said. + +"But brave of heart," he answered cheerfully. "Things are at their worst +just now, but there is always a glimmer of light in the East. Keep your +eyes that way and you will soon see the sun rising to send the shadows +and the black thoughts helter skelter back into the darkness.... May I +see him?" + +"I will ask nurse," said Kathleen. "She is the commander-in-chief." + +"Oh, you great-hearted women--angels of self-sacrifice," said Denis, +after she had left the room. "You make me feel such a mean and +contemptible worm." + +Molly laughed at this outburst. + +"Sure you are not so bad--for a man," she said. "The Lord gave you the +physical strength, and us poor women the moral virtues. You can't help +it that you were not made a woman. Just do your best to put up with +yourself." + +In a few minutes Kathleen returned. + +"Nurse says you may go in to him for five minutes. He is quiet and +sensible now," she said. + +Denis entered the sick room very quietly. It was darkened and cool; +about it there was the scent of fresh flowers brought daily from +Jackson's garden. The bed linen was scrupulously white, and the room +itself bare of furniture, but exceedingly tidy. Desmond O'Connor was +lying in a peaceful doze, low in the bed, in the prostration that had +followed a period of wild delirium. As Denis entered he opened his eyes +and smiled. + +"Is it you, Dad?" he asked. "I fancied you would come to me. I have been +a disgrace to you!" + +Denis did not answer, fearing to break the chain of thought that had +taken his friend back to his childish days. + +"A disgrace to you and to the O'Connors," Desmond continued. "Didn't you +tell me that in the dark days the O'Connors clung to the Faith; that +never a one of them ever fell away? Well, I have been the first; just +from pique, dad; pique and pride.... Why don't you speak to me?" + +Still did Denis refrain from answering him, and Desmond continued: + +"But I begin to see again. It was all darkness for a time ... after +Sylvia had left me hopeless.... Where is Sylvia?" + +He turned his head to search the room. + +The nurse, hearing the name by which he addressed her, entered the room, +and stood beside his bed. + +"Ah, there she is! Don't go away from me, Sylvia." + +"Only into the next room," she answered. + +"Yes, that will do.... Isn't she splendid, dad?... I intend to come +round, when I am well again, to make my peace with God, and live like an +O'Connor.... Why don't you send for a priest?" he asked, in an irritable +voice. + +"You shall have a priest!" cried Denis. + +But Desmond relapsed into a half sleep, broken by a rambling delirium, +like to a fragmentary nightmare. The word had been spoken, and when +Denis Quirk had called the nurse and left her in charge, he hastened to +the nearest telephone exchange and sent the long-delayed message to +Father Healy. In half an hour's time the big motor car from the Grey +Town garage was starting on the long journey to Melbourne. + +Through the evening and night the good priest sat silently beside the +chauffeur, but his lips were moving constantly, his fingers passing the +rosary beads as he prayed for the boy he loved. The chauffeur, who knew +him well, had never found the priest so self-absorbed. As a general +rule, Father Healy made the longest journey short; to-night he could +only pray silently. For he had seen Desmond grow up from infancy to +manhood, and had prepared him for the Sacraments. His downfall had been +a calamity; his return to the Faith would mean a triumph over the powers +of evil. Thus did the car rush through the night, its bright headlights +picking out the road in front of it; blackness around; the horn now +sounding its deep note as they dashed past a township, while Father +Healy was praying for the sick man in Melbourne. + +It was three o'clock in the morning when the car entered the sleeping +city, where darkness and quiet held possession. Here and there a light +shone from a window, telling its tale of sickness; now and again they +passed a night wanderer or policeman; but Melbourne lay in placid +sleep, reinvigorating itself for the busy day. + +In the flat Denis Quirk was sitting in an armchair anxiously expecting +the sound of the motor. His quick ears heard it as it came up Collins +Street, and he was at the door to admit Father Healy. + +"I suppose you are tired and hungry?" he asked. + +"Neither," the priest replied. "But my friend here has had a long drive. +He would appreciate a cup of tea--eh, Jack?" + +"No thank you, Father. I will take the car to the garage, and get to +bed," the chauffeur answered. Therewith he started post haste for the +garage and bed. + +"How is Desmond?" Father Healy asked anxiously. + +"At his very worst, the doctor tells me. If he comes through the next +few days there is hope; at present it might go either way," Desmond +answered. + +"Can I see him?" + +"I will ask the nurse," said Denis. "We do nothing without consulting +her. Sit down and eat while I find her. Ah! here is Miss O'Connor," he +added, as Kathleen entered the room. + +"Father, I am so pleased to see you," said Kathleen. "I have been +waiting so long for you, until at last I began to lose hope." + +"I have been as anxious as you," he answered. "Is the boy asleep?" + +"I will ask nurse," said Kathleen, and went quietly out of the room. + +Desmond had just awakened from a quiet sleep. He was fully conscious, +more so than he had been for many days. When Kathleen entered the nurse +stole over and looked at him. + +"Awake?" she asked, in a low voice. + +"Very much so," he answered. "All the queer things have gone, leaving me +at peace." + +"Father Healy is here," she said. + +"Did I send for him? I have a faint idea I did ... a sort of half dream +that the dad came to me and told me to see the Father," he answered. + +"Will you see him?" she asked. + +"Give me something to pull me together first. I am in a mortal dread," +he whispered. + +"Would you rather wait?" she asked. + +"No; it has to be gone through. Just a mouthful of nourishment; then +send him in!" + +In the quiet of the sick room priest and penitent conferred together in +whispers; Desmond O'Connor pouring the story of his fall and the +subsequent history resulting from it into the good Father's kindly ears. +And when it was completed there was a great joy in the two hearts and a +peace in Desmond's that had not been there for many years. + +"You are tired, my son," said Father Healy kindly. + +"Tired, but glad, Father. I have come out of the ocean of darkness and +doubt into the old harbour of peace and certainty." + +A few minutes after Father Healy had left him he was again sleeping as +peacefully as a child. The nurse, looking into his thin, pale face, +where black lines encircled the eyes, found a gentle smile on it. + +"Oh, these Catholics!" she said to herself; "what a satisfaction their +religion is to them! I believe he will come through now." + +Yet, strangely enough, although she was a good little woman, she did not +realise that there must be something superhuman in a religion that can +give perfect peace to the soul and increased strength to the body. + +In this manner began Desmond O'Connor's progress towards recovery. +Slowly the fever began to abate, leaving him prostrate and feeble after +the severe struggle he had maintained for weeks. During the first days +of convalescence he was so weak that death seemed preferable. But inch +by inch he fought his way back to health; until he was allowed to sit in +an armchair. After that his recovery was more rapid. + +As he became stronger Desmond found himself a prey to the most dreadful +spiritual desolation. The Faith that he had again found and accepted as +a great gift, with an outburst of thanksgiving, seemed to be withdrawn +from him. For days and days doubts and misgivings troubled him so that +he walked as a blind man, gropingly. And with the doubts there came a +myriad of evil thoughts to torment him. He could not read nor pray; he +had to cling blindly to Acts of Faith and resignation. + +It was fortunate for him in those days that Father Healy had left him +under the care of an old Jesuit Father. Day after day the old priest +visited him, and while he was with him Desmond was at peace. But no +sooner was the good Father out of the room than the blackness of +desolation closed around him. + +"Is this to go on for ever?" he asked the priest. + +"No, my son. You are weak in body and new to the Faith. You have +weakened yourself during the years of doubt. In a short time you will +find your feet again and walk confidently. Go frequently to the +Sacraments, and trust in God." + +Thus did it happen with Desmond. Slowly the doubts and difficulties left +him, so that he wondered that they had ever caused him uneasiness. But +daily in his Acts of Thanksgiving he praised his Divine Redeemer who had +lifted him from the valley of desolation to an absolute certainty of +Faith. + +This was the beginning of a new life to him. During his convalescence he +entered more deeply into his religion than he had ever done before. +Slowly its great beauty unfolded itself to him; he found it so wonderful +in its perfection, so satisfying that he marvelled at his previous +lukewarmness. It was just at this time that a visitor came to see him. + +Desmond was sitting up in an easy chair; the nurse had gone to another +patient while Father Healy and Molly were in Grey Town. Kathleen, having +made her brother comfortable, had slipped out for a short breath of air, +leaving Desmond in charge of Black, the incomparable man-servant. A ring +at the door bell, a vision of a beautiful face and a graceful figure +becomingly dressed, conquered Black. His orders were to admit no +visitors, but he was so fascinated by the apparition that he carried the +card in to Desmond, and a moment later Sylvia Custance was sitting +beside the sick man's chair. + +Desmond looked up as she entered to judge how the years had treated her. +Older and more mature, but otherwise unaltered, he decided as he took +her hand and shook it. + +"You poor man! How pale you are!" she cried. "I only returned home last +week to hear that you had been so desperately ill." + +"Home?" he asked, in a puzzled voice. + +"The only home I have ever known. I have been miserable since I left +it," she explained. + +"And Custance?" he questioned. + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"He is impossible," she said. "I have done my utmost for him, but at +last there came a time when I could not go on. We have separated." + +"With his consent?" he asked. + +"Custance cares for nothing now but that cursed drug. Oh, what a fool I +have been," she almost moaned. + +There came a painful silence, broken at last by her. + +"But now I intend to return to the old life and the old friends. I shall +forget the horror of what I have endured.... You will help me to +forget?" + +He was very weak and weary. As he watched her the old passion began to +return to him. But it so happened that he looked towards a picture given +him that very day by the old Jesuit Father. It was a simple painting of +the Sacred Heart, with no attempt at artistic beauty. That very day, +however, the old priest had spoken so eloquently of the mystery of love +portrayed by that poor picture that Desmond valued it better than if it +had been a treasure of art. + +"I have done with the old life," he said. + +"You fancy that now. But wait until you are strong and feel again the +joy of life," she said. "Then you will alter your mind." + +"Tell me about your trouble," he suggested. + +"No. Not that, please. It is bad enough to have lived it. It was pure +misery and hopelessness. I prefer to talk of anything but that." + +They were still talking when Kathleen returned. She concealed the dismay +and dread that she felt in finding Sylvia Custance with Desmond. She +feared the old influence that had so vitally helped to ruin her +brother's life and drive him from his Faith. At present he was weak in +body, and like an infant in religion. The slightest obstacle might turn +him again to his former state of doubt. At this critical stage Sylvia +Custance was a great danger. But it flashed into her mind that Desmond +must fight his own fight unaided. If he succumbed again it was not her +fault. She could only pray for him. + +That evening when she bade him good-night, he said to her: + +"I think I will go down to Grey Town to-morrow, Kath." + +"Are you strong enough?" she asked. + +"I don't want to see Sylvia Custance again. The old life must die, Kath. +It seems rather hard, but it must be done. Make all arrangements like a +dear girl." + +The next morning as they travelled towards Grey Town she recognised that +he had not slept well, but she made him comfortable with rugs and +cushions, and watched him drop into a quiet sleep. Denis Quirk, who had +insisted on accompanying them, brought them refreshments at every +possible opportunity and watched over them with untiring zeal. When they +arrived at Grey Town the "Layton" motor was waiting to carry them to the +Quirks' home. Here they found Mrs. Quirk, very enfeebled, but smiling a +glad welcome, and old Samuel Quirk, to greet them warmly. + +"It is like home to me," cried Kathleen, as she kissed the kindly, +withered old face. + +"And home it is, honey, when you are here; but it is a lonely home +without yourself and Denis," said Mrs. Quirk. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +THE BISHOP'S SOLUTION. + + +Denis Quirk, at Grey Town, threw away all thoughts of work, and laid +himself out to make the time pass pleasantly for Desmond and Kathleen +O'Connor. During his fortnight at "Layton" he was only in the town for +Mass on the two Sundays, and once when he paid a visit to Cairns at the +"Mercury" Office. That visit he curtailed to a brief fifteen minutes. + +When he entered the old office, to find everything as he had left +it--the old faces, the same order, even his own room arranged as it had +been in his day--he felt that he could not stay for any length of time. +This was home to him, and he an exile. + +"I had to see you," he said to Cairns, "but it breaks me up to visit the +old place." + +"It is waiting for you, Quirk, and we miss you every day. When are you +coming back?" the editor asked. + +"When I can thrust my innocence in the town's face--perhaps to-morrow, +possibly never," Denis answered. + +"Nonsense! The scandal is dead and buried. We never realised what you +were until you had left us. We want your initiative, Quirk." + +"It's very good of you to say that. Lord, how I miss you Cairns--you +and the old paper! The 'Freelance' is all right, but it never can be the +'Mercury.' And Grey Town, too! I love it for its very shortcomings," +Denis replied. + +He interviewed the staff, and parted after a few friendly words with +each. The remainder of his time in Grey Town was spent at "Layton" and +in the country around the town. His friends were invited to meet him at +dinner--Father Healy, Mr. Green, Dr. Marsh, and a few others. Not that +he feared to face the town, but because he could not bear to enter it as +a mere visitor; to stand, as it were, on one side, as an onlooker and +not as a worker. + +"You have done wonders, they tell me," he remarked to his father, "but I +feel that there is more to be accomplished, and my fingers are itching +to be doing it." + +"I am just keeping your seat on the Council warm for you. Say the word, +and it is yours," remarked Samuel Quirk. + +"When the word comes to me, I will send it along to you. Meanwhile, keep +firing at them, Dad. Grey Town is yawning and rubbing its eyes. The town +is beginning to realise what it is to be awake. In time it will be awake +and moving briskly." + +"I'll keep on pinching them, until they must be moving just to be quit +of my fingers," Samuel Quirk replied complacently. "By the time you are +back with us this town will be a young city." + +The time passed pleasantly and swiftly at "Layton." Every day brought +some new pleasure or excitement for the O'Connors, and Denis Quirk did +his utmost to make them forget the strain that they had just been +through. He proved that he could play as strenuously as he was +accustomed to work, and that he was still a young man in his mind. + +One morning Kathleen O'Connor attempted to thank him for his kindness. +They were in the garden, old Mrs. Quirk resting placidly in an +easy-chair under a large oak tree, Kathleen seated beside her, and the +two men sprawled out at full length on the lawn. Desmond lay far apart, +out of earshot, while Mrs. Quirk was fast asleep. + +"I don't know how to thank you----," Kathleen began. + +"There is no occasion to thank me. The gratitude is on my side, Miss +O'Connor. You have made my mother happy, as no one else could have done. +No payment or reward could represent what I owe you," he answered. + +"But I am a paid companion," she protested, half-laughingly. + +"Money cannot buy a friend, nor pay her for her friendship," he said. +"And please not to forget that I am enjoying myself as much as you are. +It seems to me that I have never been young until now. I went from +school into a hard world, and I have been battling with it ever since. +It is only now I realise that there is something else beyond work to +make the world pleasant. Until now it has been a case of fighting hard +and keeping myself straight by means of religion. Once I was tempted to +drift--that was after my trouble, over there in Golden Vale--but I was +fortunate enough to find an old friend, a Father, who put things before +me in their proper light." + +It was the first time he had spoken to her of the dark days in +Goldenvale. She had often wondered to herself as to how he had accepted +what must have been a terrible experience. Now that he had confided in +her, she wished to hear more. + +"A priest?" she asked him. + +"The Bishop. I wish you knew him." + +"I do," she answered. "We have a Bishop like that." + +"Then I must know him. Will you take me to him and introduce me?" + +"It is a long journey from Grey Town to Millerton," she answered +laughingly. + +"Nothing to a motor on a fine day and good roads. We will start early in +the morning, and be there for lunch, see your Bishop, and return here +for dinner. Desmond shall come--but what about the Mother?" + +Mrs. Quirk had awakened, and lay very quietly, with closed eyes, +listening to their conversation. She knew the Bishop well, for he came +to visit her whenever he chanced to be in Grey Town. His very name +brought a smile to her face, but she refused to place his Lordship +before his reverence the parish priest. + +"Never mind me," she said. "What is one day to me? But it may mean a +good deal to Denis--and still more to Desmond." + +They turned in surprise to look towards the spot where Desmond O'Connor +lay, apparently asleep. + +"To Desmond?" Kathleen asked, in a puzzled voice. + +"Sure, you don't know the boy as I do. He comes to me, and we talk +together, Desmond and I. The seed is working in the boy's soul--I am +thinking he will be a priest." + +"A priest!" cried Kathleen so clearly that Desmond rolled over lazily +and faced them. + +"What's that?" he asked. "You three look as if you were conspiring +together. No secrets are allowed in this establishment--excepting Mrs. +Quirk's and my own. Now, what is it, Kath.?" + +"We are going to see the Bishop to-morrow," said Denis. "I intend to put +his Lordship to a severe test. He shall be placed alongside my Bishop, +and judged in that comparison." + +"Six to four on his Lordship," said Desmond, still lazily. + +"Will you come?" Kathleen asked. + +"Of course I will. I have a spiritual conundrum of my own to be +answered, and no one can find the solution but he. Book a seat for me in +the car." + +"May we take Molly Healy?" Kathleen asked. + +"Who better? Molly Healy would make the longest road short and the +roughest one smooth. If we puncture or blow out, she will cause us to +forget the trials that pursue the tyres of a motor car." + +The following day, at nine o'clock, the big "Layton" car, resplendent in +a recent coat of paint, well shod, and perfectly equipped, started from +the house on the long journey to Millerton. Denis Quirk was at the +wheel, the chauffeur beside him. In the tonneau Molly Healy and Desmond +O'Connor kept up a crossfire of good-humoured raillery, while Kathleen +sat between them, smiling at their jests. It was a bright, sunny day, +with a gentle breeze blowing from the south; the roads were smooth, and +the motor throbbed along throwing the miles behind her, and the dust in +the faces of those whom they passed on their way. + +"A brief epitome of this Commonwealth," said Denis Quirk, with a wave of +his hand as they were running through a vast, untenanted domain, +protected on either side by rows of dark green pines. "Neglected +opportunities! Land that should be supporting one hundred families +wasted on one man." + +Again they were hurrying between cultivated farms and farm houses, +widely scattered, but sufficiently near to one another to represent +civilisation. Double-fronted wooden houses were dotted here and there, +single-storied, each with its wide verandah, a small garden, and +possibly a row of pine trees to guard them from the wind. Behind them +each had its row of wooden outbuildings, large haystacks, and sleek +cattle feeding on green meadow-land. + +"The proof of what we can do--given the one necessary thing, man. Lord! +how the Japs must gnash their teeth when they think of the prize out +here in the lone Pacific! When I am a politician----." + +"Why not now?" Desmond asked. "Go forth and preach your new crusade. You +can't begin too soon." + +"I object to his preaching it in a car. Motors were never made for +moralising. There's a feeling, in riding in a car, that makes a person +lazy and contented," cried Molly Healy. + +"Until something goes wrong with the car," suggested Desmond. +"Then----." + +"I have heard them in difficulties, and my ears are still tingling and +my conscience burning me for the language they used," said Molly Healy. + +"It's no use carrying other men's sins on your conscience. Haven't you +sufficient of your own?" asked Desmond. + +"That is between me and my confessor, Desmond. But if I don't carry +these men's crimes no one will trouble about them, for they don't seem +to think it a sin to swear at a motor, although they call the thing +'she.'" + +"That's why they abuse her--woman was the original cause of sin, and +still is, nine cases out of ten." + +"Shame on you! The world would have little virtue to be boasting of were +it not for us poor women." + +"And less of sin," Desmond replied, cynically. + +"Peace, children!" said Kathleen; "you spoil the scenery." + +The Bishop was at home--a handsome man, tall and erect, with a stern +face, yet one that was singularly sweet. + +"Well, my child," he asked Kathleen, "what can I do for you?" + +"Mr. Quirk wished to know you, my Lord," Kathleen answered, with a +smile. "I brought him from Grey Town to introduce him to you." + +"It is very kind of Mr. Quirk to come all this way to see me. Perhaps +you will lunch with me, now that you have come so far." + +"Oh! no, my Lord----," cried Kathleen. + +"Oh! yes, my child. You have something to say to me?" he asked Desmond. + +"It is private, my Lord--but it can wait," Desmond answered. + +"No; it must not wait. Come with me, and talk until luncheon is +prepared. I will send Father Geary to entertain your friends." + +In his study, a small room, where large books on Theology were ranged on +shelves round the walls, where a large silver crucifix stood on the +table, with the Bishop's breviary and writing materials beside it, he +bade Desmond sit down. Then he began to interrogate him shrewdly, but +kindly. + +"You wish to be a priest?" he asked. + +Desmond eyed the Bishop in profound surprise, and his Lordship +continued: + +"How do I guess? Eh? It is not great wisdom nor the black art that has +told me your secret. A friend wrote to me----." + +"Mrs. Quirk!" cried Desmond. + +The Bishop smiled, and his usually stern face relaxed, so that the lines +and wrinkles of care smoothed themselves out. + +"A friend," he answered, "who was interested in you, and anxious for +advice." + +"My Lord, I am quite uncertain. I can see which is the better, and which +the more difficult." + +"Make a retreat, my child; then come to me again." + +"Tell me it is impossible, my Lord!" cried Desmond. + +"Nothing is impossible. I was myself a man of the world like you, and, +when I found myself confronted with a vocation, I was for running away, +like you. But the grace of God constrained me by force." + +"I can save my soul in the world," said Desmond. + +"You may; probably you will. But there are other souls to save besides +your own. Make a retreat, my child----." + +"But I know what the result will be. There can be only the one answer." + +"Then a retreat is not needed, but it will do you good. The Bishop +commands you to make a retreat--at once!" + +After luncheon, a plain meal, seasoned with good stories and laughter, +they bade his Lordship a respectful good-bye. He stood at the door +watching them as the car slipped down the avenue. On his face was the +smile of one who has scored a triumph. Kathleen turned to Denis, and +asked: + +"What do you think of my Bishop?" + +"Equal in every respect to my own, and that represents the very summit +of virtue. But Desmond can tell you more of his Lordship than I. I met +him as a mere man; Desmond was privileged to a more intimate knowledge." + +Desmond smiled as he answered: + +"A wise counsellor and a kind Father. He administers unpleasant +medicine, flavoured with human kindness." + +"And will you be taking the Bishop's black draught?" asked Molly Healy. + +"I have not decided whether I shall swallow it or throw it away," he +answered evasively. + +But Molly Healy realised that Desmond O'Connor had decided. To her, this +represented the destruction of an ideal she had never hoped to realise; +but, as she wiped a few tears from her eyes that evening she remarked to +herself: + +"Life is made up of not getting what you want, Molly Healy. It is better +Desmond should become a priest than die a scallywag--and it will keep +him out of the way of that Sylvia Custance. God knows what is best for +every one of us." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +A LINK BROKEN. + + +Denis Quirk was back in Melbourne, in the "Bachelors' Flat," and working +relentlessly at the "Freelance." That intrepid little weekly had +shouldered its way into a prominent position in the literary world. It +stood for independence of thought, avoiding the humdrum of the beaten +track, offering its own ideas to the public, careless of passing crazes +and passions. + +It may be said of Denis Quirk in those days that his only pleasure was +in his work. He was lonely for Desmond O'Connor, now a student at Manly. +The flat was still frequented by the representatives of motley and +variegated talent, as in the old days. Jests were made, good stories +told, and songs sung by well-trained voices; but these were mere +acquaintances. Denis longed for the intimate companionship of the former +days. + +Jackson had invited him to his home in Brighton, but there he found +Sylvia Custance. She weaved her web to enslave Denis, interesting +herself in his career, asking him fairly intelligent questions, and +doing her utmost to persuade him that he was the most important person +in the world to her. Denis watched her as a scientist observes a +remarkable organism. Once, after a prolonged silence on his part, she +asked-- + +"What are you thinking about, if I may ask?" + +"I was thinking about you," he replied. + +She eyed him for one moment, as if uncertain how she should regard his +answer. "And what is your opinion about me?" she asked, after a pause. + +"One that I cannot properly express in every-day language. You are the +most versatile woman I have been privileged to know, and in some +respects one of the very cleverest." + +"That is great praise from you," she answered. + +"It is neither praise nor flattery; it is merely the truth. You are so +clever that I cannot understand you." + +Sylvia Custance imagined that she had at last won Denis Quirk's +admiration. Had she listened to him coldly dissecting her for the +benefit of one of her chosen bodyguard, she would have suffered a bitter +disillusionment. Denis was walking home with this admirer, a mere boy, +to whose unopened eyes Sylvia Custance was the ideal of women. + +"Did you ever see such another woman as Mrs. Custance?" the young man +asked, in his youthful enthusiasm. + +"No, thank God, I never did," Denis answered bluntly. + +This was a sudden and unexpected check to the boy's eloquence. He +regarded Denis frowningly. + +"If you intend----," he began. + +"You asked my opinion, and I have answered you. There is no need for +anger. I have a very high regard for good women. Mrs. Custance is not a +woman, merely a psychological problem to me. She cares for only one +person--herself, and that self she regards as a celestial body around +which all other lesser bodies should revolve. To attain this necessary +consummation she adopts a chameleon character, altering herself to suit +all who approach her. To you she is sweet, and inclined to gush; to me, +a woman whose interests are in the stern affairs of life; to another an +artist--something different to all men. She is so versatile that she has +no fixed character. She is neither good nor bad, frivolous nor earnest; +she assumes whatever she considers most suitable to the present moment. +But I annoy you?" + +"No, you don't. Not one bit. Mrs. Custance's character can bear your +satire. She is the sweetest and most kindly woman in the world." + +"To you she probably is. That sweetness is the music to which you are +expected to dance. I accuse her of no evil intention. She is far too +prudent to ever repeat her one mistake of falling in love with anyone +but herself. You may fall in love with her; she expects you to do that. +But you need expect no act of imprudence from her. She will lead you to +the very gates of love and close them gently in your face." + +The boy went away furiously angry with Denis, but in the months to come +he recognised that he had heard Sylvia Custance accurately analysed +during that unpleasant half-hour's walk with Denis Quirk. + +Denis watched the boy as he strode away towards his home, his figure +stiffly borne, the picture of indignant protest. For his own part, +Denis desired no further acquaintance with Sylvia Custance. He despised +her so much that the very thought of her was repulsive to his nature. +After that one visit he preferred to cultivate old Jackson in his office +in the city. + +Occasionally he made a flying visit to Grey Town to enjoy the +restfulness of "Layton," but he did not stay long even there. After a +week or ten days he would suddenly pack his Gladstone bag and return in +haste to Melbourne. His answer to his mother was always the same, when +she pleaded with him to stay a few days longer: + +"I must get back to work. There is nothing else worth living for." + +Denis Quirk was busy in his office, writing, revising, correcting +proofs, reading a celebrated work for review, criticising illustrations, +doing many things and several men's work at the one time. He had a +sub-editor, a very capable journalist, but he had the feeling, like +other great men, that no one could do his work but he, and in this he +was partly right. The telephone rang while he was thus engaged, and he +sprang up and seized the receiver. Grey Town was speaking. + +"Yes, Grey Town speaking. It is Kathleen O'Connor. Can you hear me?" + +"Distinctly," he answered. + +"Mrs. Quirk is seriously ill. She wants you." + +"I will be with you in seven hours. Will she last till then?" + +"Dr. Marsh thinks so; but please waste no time. Good-bye." + +He rang his bell, and the office messenger answered it with promptitude. +He had learned the lesson of haste when the master's bell rang. + +"Send Mr. Gillon to me, and order a motor to take me to Grey Town at +once. Ring up my flat, and ask my man to pack my valise," cried Denis. +"Tell the motor to call for it," he added. + +To the sub-editor he confided the work that still remained to be done. + +"I will take this with me," he said, picking up an important article, +"and read it on the journey. I will send it back in the motor." + +A quarter of an hour later he was being carried at full speed in a +twenty-horse power Fiat car towards Grey Town. + +"If you delay one moment; if you blow out, or even puncture, I will +never employ you again," he remarked to the chauffeur. + +"It's all luck," the driver answered, indignantly. + +"I prefer lucky men," Denis replied. "Now drive like the very deuce." + +Nursing his outraged dignity, the chauffeur sent the car at its topmost +speed on the long road to Grey Town. This was his lucky trip; stray +nails there were in plenty, also dangerous places, but the Fiat raced +through in six hours. Denis sat rigidly perusing and correcting the +article, determined not to think of grey sorrow at the other end. Once +he groaned to himself. + +"The last good thing in life, and I am to close it. But, there is +work--and the Church, thank God!" + +Then he made a further correction, folded the article, and placed it in +an envelope. This he confided to the chauffeur. + +"I like you," he remarked; "you can be as reckless as I when it is +necessary. I shall want a driver soon. Would you take the post?" + +"I prefer to be where I am," the man answered. "A driver can't be lucky +always." + +"He only needs to be lucky on occasions like this, when a mother is +waiting to say 'Good-bye' to a son." + +In six hours' time the car raced up the avenue at "Layton," to find +Samuel Quirk pacing the verandah while he awaited his son. Denis could +see the hand of bitter grief in the old man's bent figure, in the deep +lines on his face, and in the sunken eyes. After nearly fifty years' +companionship the prospect of losing his faithful wife struck Samuel +Quirk a titanic blow. + +Denis had never been outwardly demonstrative towards his father. Samuel +Quirk had not invited any sign of affection, and his son had not offered +it. But they loved and respected one another, for Samuel Quirk was the +type of man that Denis could best admire. He recognised honesty and +purity of intention in the old man; he knew that Samuel Quirk would +never intentionally injure another. These virtues appealed to him like +rich jewels hidden within a rough casket. To-day his heart went right +out to the pathetic figure of hopeless misery portrayed by his father. + +He sprang from the car and took his father's hand tenderly. + +"It's the will of God," he said. + +"Did I say it was not?" asked Samuel Quirk. "I knew it must come +soon--but that doesn't make it one bit easier!" + +"How is she?" Denis asked. + +"Slipping away--and calling out for you." + +Denis waited to hear no more. He ran up the stairs to his mother's room. +Here he found Father Healy, Molly, Kathleen, and the nurse who had been +with Desmond O'Connor. At his coming they left the room, whispering each +one a short welcome as they passed him. + +Mrs. Quirk turned her head, and her thin, white face broke into a sweet +smile. + +"Come to me, Denis. God is good to send you. Sure, I am blessed above +all women. Himself is with me, the Divine Redeemer, and His Blessed +Mother, and the angels. Father Healy has been praying over me, and now +you have come to say good-bye. Sit beside me, and take my hand. Don't be +crying. I am just passing to God. Don't forget to say a prayer for me." + +She paused in distress, while Denis took her hand, and sat on a chair, +the tears rolling down his cheek. After a few seconds she spoke again: + +"Don't be fretting because the world is hard, boy. All will come right, +and there's a good wife waiting you--one that will be true to you." + +"Don't be worrying yourself about me. I shall always land on my feet," +he answered. Then, after a pause, he added: "You have been perfect as a +mother and as a woman. There is nothing to regret on that score." + +"Many things undone, and many that might have been done better. But God +is good and merciful, boy. He doesn't expect too much." + +Thus they spoke together for ten minutes. Then Denis saw that she was +exhausted. He rose to call the nurse, but she held his hand for one +minute. + +"Promise me that you will marry Kathleen," she whispered. + +"I am already married," he answered. + +"You will be set free--I am sure of it. Promise me, Denis." + +"I promise to do that if it is ever possible." + +"God bless you and keep you. May the Sacred Heart prevent you from sin, +and Mary, the Mother of God, pray for you," she said, in a low, broken +voice. + +A few hours later the end came to her peacefully, and the soul of +"Granny" Quirk passed the narrow gate that leads from things seen to +those that are apprehended by faith. With a smile on her face she passed +the portal, confident in the mercy of Almighty God. + +After the funeral the question of Kathleen O'Connor's future came up for +discussion. After various solutions had been suggested by Father Healy, +Dr. Marsh, and Denis, old Samuel Quirk calmly settled the matter. + +"Kathleen will stay here, and keep the house for me," he said. "She will +be my daughter. What would I be doing all alone in this big house?" + +The few days that had elapsed since Mrs. Quirk's death had changed him +into a decrepit old man. He sat through the greater part of the day in +an easy-chair on the verandah, taking no interest in anything; just +gazing vacantly in front of him for hours at a time. Mental and bodily +strength seemed to have deserted him. From vigour he had passed suddenly +into senility. + +"Are you willing to stay with him?" Dr. Marsh asked Kathleen. "It means +acting as a nurse to an impatient old man." + +"I promised Mrs. Quirk that I would remain at "Layton" while he needed +me," she answered. + +"The burden may be a heavy one," said Father Healy. + +"I can bear it," she answered cheerfully. + +Denis Quirk waited until the other had gone. Then he went to Kathleen to +find her working among the flowers, filling the vases and placing them +in the positions where Mrs. Quirk had liked to see them. He sat watching +her silently, as he had been accustomed to do in the days of their first +acquaintance. Presently she turned towards him. + +"You remind me of the old Denis Quirk to-day--the one whom I resented," +she said. + +"I was summing you up in those days," he answered; "just wondering +whether you were genuine." + +"That was what I objected to," she answered. "I have never been +subjected to examination--I have not so much as examined myself too +critically--and the feeling is creepy." + +"You have been tried and acquitted," he laughed. "You leave the court +without a stain upon your character. Indeed, you have been promoted to +stand upon a pedestal, and receive the admiration of your fellows." + +"No, no! Not that, if you please," she cried. "Allow me to remain just a +woman. It is my best plea for leniency. I detest the idea of a pedestal. +Supposing I were found to have a flaw--I have a good many, I assure +you--everyone would see it. Let me hide myself in the crowd." + +"Only one person is permitted to admire you on the pedestal; the one who +has placed you there. In his eyes there is no flaw. But," he added, +hastily, "I may, at least, thank you for your kindness to my parents. +You are a good woman, and you need no higher praise. Take care of the +old man, and--good-bye." + +He took her hand and crushed it in his own. Then he turned abruptly on +his heel and left her. That night she fancied she could hear him pacing +the avenue restlessly, and in that fact she found security. The +following morning he was gone. + +"Where is Denis?" old Samuel Quirk asked her, in his half-sleepy way. + +"He has returned to his work. You should be a proud man, Mr. Quirk, for +I believe that Mrs. Quirk is a saint, and I am sure that Denis is a +hero." + +"He should be here in Grey Town," the old man grumbled. + +"He is in the best place--out there in Melbourne. He will return to Grey +Town when the time is ripe for him." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +A SICK CALL. + + +If there is one suburb in Melbourne where a man might be excused +depression and discontent it is that undesirable and dusty part called +Tottenham. On a hot night in the summer time Tottenham gasps in the +streets. In shirt sleeves and thin blouses, not infrequently in a still +scantier attire, men, women, and children sit on doorsteps and +pavements, or collect in the small parks and open spaces, seeking fresh +air. The language on such occasions is apt to be in keeping with the +weather, for the heat excites men's tempers, and leads to unpleasant +remarks and retorts that are still less courteous, until a brawl +frequently terminates the proceedings. The neighbouring hospitals +anticipate scalp wounds and bruises after a hot spell in Tottenham. + +It was on such a night that Father Desmond O'Connor, recently ordained, +and appointed curate to Father Quinlan, the parish priest of St. +Carthage's Church, went quietly and swiftly along Carrick Street in +answer to a sick call. He walked absorbed in thought, and heedless of +the groups of people whom he passed. + +Desmond O'Connor had fought a severe campaign, and had triumphed. In +Tottenham he lived a quiet and uneventful life, content to do his duty +conscientiously, and pass his leisure hours with his brother-priests +and in the society of his books. + +Father Desmond O'Connor was not perfect; he was a good, honest, +hard-working priest, one of that splendid army who are fighting the +Church's battles against human weakness in Australia. His brothers among +the clergy liked and respected him none the less because he was a +cheerful companion, not above an occasional joke. + +Father Desmond O'Connor was, in fact, meditating a practical joke as he +hurried on his sick call this hot summer's night. His eyes were +twinkling, and his lips occasionally relaxed into a smile as he +considered the details of this piece of drollery. Once he remarked to +himself, half-audibly: + +"I must confer with Father Gleeson. He would suggest the necessary +details." + +Thus did he go, smiling and occasionally laughing to himself as some +particularly amusing aspect of that which he was considering struck him. +So pleasant was his face that a man whom he met paused to ask the +direction to a certain street that he well knew. When Father O'Connor +had answered his question, the man asked him: + +"Are you a Roman Catholic priest?" + +"I am," Desmond answered. + +"You'll excuse me stopping you, sir, but you looked so happy and +pleasant that I thought I would like to speak to you. You remind me of a +young fellow I once met some years ago--Desmond O'Connor." + +Father O'Connor laughed aloud at the remark. + +"Supposing I were to tell you I was he, would you believe me?" he +asked. + +The stranger shook his head emphatically. + +"No, sir, I would not believe it, even from you. I had an argument with +young O'Connor, half-fun and half-earnest. He was an Agnostic, while I +profess to be a Christian of no denomination--just a Christian. You are +not he." + +"I am Desmond O'Connor, and your name, if my memory is correct, is +Laceby, a reporter for the 'News.' If you care to have a chat with me, +you will find me at St. Carthage's Presbytery, in Nixon Street." + +"But how did you happen----," Laceby began. + +"To change my views? A long story, which I will tell you if you call. +You must excuse me at present. I have to attend a sick call at St. +Luke's Hospital." + +They shook hands, and bade one another good-night. Laceby stood watching +Father O'Connor until he had disappeared round a corner. + +"A strange army, the priesthood," he said to himself. "Every race and +every rank of life--men who have always had a creed, and men who have +had none. Soldiers, sailors, men from trades and professions, drawn to +the Standard by an irresistible impulse that they term a vocation--but +fine fellows, every one of them." + +All the world knows St. Luke's Hospital, its Mother Superioress, and the +devoted nuns who labour for the sick poor. Within the wards many a great +healer has served an apprenticeship, and many a sorely-diseased man or +woman has been snatched from death. There is no charitable institution +in which the Catholics of Australia have more reason to take a +legitimate pride. Standing in Burgoyne-avenue, its brick walls tower +towards the sky, one storey above another, while beside it the small and +modest building, now the convent, remains to speak of small beginnings +that have been brought to a great success. + +Father O'Connor was met at the door by a Sister in the black habit of +the Order, a sweet-faced, gentle nun, smiling as kindly as the priest +himself. + +"Well, Sister Bernardine!" he cried. "What makes you always smile? One +would expect a serious face in a place like this." + +"A smile never made a sick man worse," she answered. "The Mother +Superioress would like to speak to you before you see Mrs. Clarence." + +"Certainly, Sister. I am never the worse for a word with Mother +Superioress. Where is she?" + +"In the convent expecting you. I think you should be as quick as you +can; the poor woman is seriously injured." + +The Mother Superioress beamed upon Father O'Connor. She had conceived a +great liking and respect for the young priest, for she recognised that +beneath his humour and high spirits was concealed a strong sense of +duty, akin to her own. + +"I shall not detain you, Father," she said. "This poor lady met with a +motor accident outside our doors, and was carried in here. She is too +sick to move, otherwise we would have sent her to a private hospital. +Dr. Broxham has just seen her, and holds out no hope of recover. But the +trouble is this: she is a Protestant, yet she has asked to see a +priest." + +"Does her husband consent?" Father O'Connor asked. + +"The poor man was killed," the Mother Superioress answered. "We have not +told her that. But she does not ask for him. She asks constantly for a +priest--and for Denis Quirk." + +"Denis Quirk?" cried the priest, "and her name is Clarence! Strange! +Have you sent for Denis Quirk?" + +"Who is he?" she asked. + +"You must surely know Denis Quirk, the editor of the 'Freelance.' Two +such important persons as you and he must have met." + +"Of course I know him. He is one of our best friends. But are you +certain it is he she wishes to see?" + +"I merely surmise, Mother. I will see her at once and ask her--the +Sister told me to lose no time." + +In the big surgical ward of the hospital, the bed surrounded by screens, +Father O'Connor found a woman, her face of an ashen colour, and +constantly contracted in pain. She lay very quietly and in silence save +when a faint groan spoke of a spasm of agony. Her voice had sunk to a +faint whisper, so that the priest was compelled to bend over and listen +to that which she desired to say. But, in a low voice, and disjointed +sentences, she confided her sins to Father O'Connor's ears, and was then +received into the Catholic Church. Before the priest left her she +asked: + +"May I see Mr. Denis Quirk?" + +"He shall be sent for at once," Father O'Connor answered. "Good-bye, and +God bless you. You are happy now?" + +"For the first time for many years. I only need Denis Quirk's +forgiveness before I die. Promise me I shall not see Mr. Clarence +again." + +"I promise that," Father O'Connor answered, whispering to himself: "May +the Lord have mercy on the poor man's soul, for he will need mercy." + +In half an hour Denis Quirk was shown to the sick woman's bedside. It is +not my purpose to say what passed between the dying wife and the husband +whom she had so grievously wronged. Denis Quirk readily forgave her the +evil she had done him, and with her he remained until she had passed the +portal of death, holding his hand in hers. Then he rose from his knees +and gazed into her face, and on it he saw a great joy and peace, that +had not rested there for many years. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +DENIS QUIRK'S HOMECOMING. + + +There is a large field beside the house at "Layton," sloping downwards +from the rise, on which the house stands, towards the road. It is +particularly green in spring and early summer, while scattered here and +there about it are giant gum-trees, left purposely for shade. Here Denis +Quirk gathered the employees of the "Mercury," their wives, children, +and relations, soon after his return to Grey Town. In the centre of the +field was a huge marquee, with a great table in it spread with +snow-white linen and adorned with flowers and coloured ribbon. The +silver, cutlery, and glass, together with a multitude of eatables and +tempting drinks, proclaimed that this was provided for hungry appetites +and for the thirsty. Waitresses in black dresses, with white aprons and +caps, flitted backwards and forwards, arranging the table; occasionally +an inquisitive child peeped in to view the arrangements, while now and +again Molly Healy or Kathleen O'Connor entered to confer with the +caterer. + +There were other marquees in the field, places of interest and curiosity +to the smaller guests. In one of these were sweets in abundance, to be +had for the asking. The young lady in charge was the kindest and most +obliging dispenser of sweets that any child had ever yet seen. She did +not ask, "How much?" nor did she expect payment in base metal. A "Thank +you" and a smile was sufficient to satisfy her. In another there was an +amusing man, whose purpose it was to make children, both young and grown +up, laugh. With him was a mysterious gentleman who performed the most +wonderful feats of magic, and two young ladies who sang and danced as +never young ladies had done before. + +Outside there were sports and cricket, the big "Layton" motor to ride +in, and the whole range of the field for romps and games. Finally, to +complete the day, there was to be a picture show after dark, with music +from the Grey Town Band to add greater enjoyment. Was it to be wondered +at if children and adults vowed that this was a picnic complete to the +smallest detail? + +Denis Quirk had arranged the entertainment to celebrate his return to +the "Mercury" Office. He had begun on a very small scale, his intention +being to limit the pleasure to those immediately interested in the +paper. But the invitations had spread from one to another, from the +staff to their relations, then to their friends, and finally to their +friends' friends. + +"Let them all come," cried Denis Quirk. "If the thing is to be done, the +more who find pleasure in it the better. Every child in Grey Town who +cares to and can squeeze in, is welcome." + +He had returned to the town without fuss or excitement, and had strolled +into the "Mercury" office as if he had never been absent from it. Cairns +had rushed to welcome him, a broad smile on his face, and a suspicious +dimness, about the eyes. + +"Upon my word, Quirk, I am glad to see you," he cried. + +Then he turned away for an instant. + +"I never knew I was an emotional man before, but it makes my eyes wet to +see you," he explained, as he blew his nose violently, and gripped Denis +Quirk's hand. "You swear not to leave us again?" he asked. + +"Not until I am called for, Cairns. Upon my life, Cairns, I never knew +how much I loved you until to-day," Denis answered. He wrung Cairns' +hand until the editor winced. Then he went in haste to interview the +staff. + +"Tim O'Neill!" he cried, meeting that youth outside the editor's office, +"how far up the ladder have you climbed?" + +"Senior reporter, sir. Glad to see you back, Mr. Quirk." + +"Thank you, Tim. I suppose you will be leaving us soon, now that you are +famous?" + +"Not unless you tell me to go, sir. I am quite happy here--plenty of +work, and, now you are back," Tim asked wistfully, "there will be some +fighting to do?" + +"You are a worthy descendant of a fighting race, Imp. Is there anything +perfect in Grey Town?" + +"No, sir, nothing quite perfect--excepting Miss O'Connor," Tim answered +with a blush. + +"Nothing perfect! Then we must fight. Take down your blackthorn, Tim, +and get your muscle up." + +In this manner he passed from one to another, and the "Mercury" staff +was one broad smile of joy and satisfaction, for they all loved the big, +ugly man. + +A week after his return the picnic was arranged. Kathleen O'Connor and +Molly Healy had charge of the minutiae, while Denis ordered the big +things, and opened his purse to its widest extent. + +"They shall remember this, every one of them, right down to the babies +in arms," he said. "They welcomed me when I returned; it is for me to +show my gratitude." + +At one o'clock the adults assembled for dinner in the large marquee. Old +Samuel Quirk was wheeled in in an invalid chair, but, though he smiled +urbanely on the company, he did not gather the significance of the +proceedings, for he was now as much an infant as the head compositor's +youngest baby. Father Healy came to bless the proceedings, and Dr. Marsh +to stand by in case of sickness. After the dinner Cairns rose to his +feet, to the sound of loud applause. + +"Reverend Father, ladies and gentlemen," he began; "I want you to drink +the health of the finest man in Grey Town. Mr. Quirk went away against +our wish, and he has not come back a minute too soon. We needed him all +the time he was in Melbourne. The 'Mercury' missed his power of +organisation, his splendid gift of pugnacity. The old gang has been +broken up, but there are a few of the same type prowling about. See that +your gun is loaded and cocked, Quirk; there is plenty of shooting to be +done in this town yet." + +"Ebenezer?" Denis Quirk asked, with a broad grin. + +"Ebenezer is crippled, but a few of the same species remain with us," +replied Cairns. "We will put you back into the Council, and send you to +Parliament if you like." + +At this there was loud applause, while from the distance could be heard +the sound of a baby squalling. + +Before Cairns could continue his speech Molly Healy appeared at the door +and cried out to Mrs. Crawford, the baby's mother: + +"You will have to come to him yourself. Sure, I fancy he must have +swallowed a pin, and it is scratching his inside." + +Mrs. Crawford sprang from her seat and hurried to the succour of her +offspring, while Molly remarked to Cairns: + +"No wonder the child is scared, with you shouting so loud." + +Thereupon she whisked out of the marquee. + +"We want a few of your stamp in Parliament," continued the orator. "So, +whenever you pass the word, we will be up to put you into Parliament. +Meanwhile, here is your good health, Quirk, and we are glad to have you +with us." + +Men, women, and children shouted themselves hoarse as Cairns sat down, +and Denis Quirk rose to his feet. + +"Not yet, Cairns," he said. "I don't intend to leave the 'Mercury' just +now, when I am realising all she is to me. The sound of her heart, as +she turns out the news of the world, is music to me. I love to sit at +work with my coat off and sleeves rolled up, preparing a daily +stimulant for Grey Town. But when Grey Town is braced up, if you still +need a man who will make your interests his, and battle for you in +Parliament, just call on me. I am glad to be with you again. There is +not one man in the office that is not dear to me--I love even his wife +and children. Dr. Marsh and I have been consulting as to the future +management of the paper, turning over, at the same time, the great +social problem. Now, we offer you a partnership in the profits of the +paper. Dr. Marsh and I will take one-third of the sum, and divide +two-thirds between you, on a graduated scale, to be decided in +conference. Mr. Cairns will, of course, receive the largest share, and +from him, down to the printers' devil, you will all be partners. How +does that suit you?" + +A shout of applause showed that his proposal was satisfactory to the +whole staff. + +"Then an agreement shall be drawn up between us, but we rely upon you +all to work hard and prove your appreciation of the offer. This scheme +is an attempt to find a solution to the labour problem. You all realise +that fact? Dr. Marsh and I have purchased the machinery; we have +initiated the enterprise, and we are not prepared to divide our property +among you; we are merely trying to pay you on an equitable basis. This +is to be a partnership of profits, not of the stock. I wish you all to +understand that. I now ask you, if you approve, to hold up your hands." + +Every man, woman, and child signified their acceptance. + +"Thank you. I hope it will prove a success, and that we shall never +regret our new departure. I have only a few more words to say to you at +present. Mr. Cairns tells me that you are loyal, every one of you. That +is what I ask of you--loyalty to your own interests. Put your best work +into the paper, and remember that the 'Mercury' is the production of +every member of the staff. Thank you again for your welcome; you have +made me realise that the 'Mercury' is home, the staff a happy and united +family, to whom I am a father." + +He spoke simply, in a straightforward, manly style, that went to their +hearts. When he sat down they continued to applaud for several minutes +before filing out to view the pictures. + +"Denis Quirk is white," a compositor remarked emphatically to Tim +O'Neill. + +"White!" replied Tim. "He is snow-white. He is the biggest and the +whitest thing in Grey Town--outside Miss O'Connor." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +A PROPOSAL. + + +"Where shall I put the old gown?" sighed Molly Healy as she surveyed a +trunk already packed to overflowing. "I took it out to make place for +the shoes, and now I must take out the shawl to make place for it. I am +tired of taking out and putting in again." + +Therewith she seated herself despairingly on a chair and eyed the trunk +in disgust. Kathleen O'Connor regarded her with a smile of amusement. + +"May I see what I can do?" she asked. + +"I am beyond refusing you anything, Kathleen. I have that trunk on my +brain, and it's worse than water in the same place. Mrs. Gorman kept +poking her nose in and telling me: 'I had no method' until I slammed the +door in her face and locked it. Then the Father and Dr. Marsh began to +look in on me through the window, telling me I was overlooked when the +gift of tidiness was being distributed. But I have sent them on a dying +message to Pat Collins, who is not sick. Dan, too, must come along and +ask me why I was swearing? There is only one good angel in Grey Town, +and you are that one, Kathleen O'Connor." + +Kathleen began to remove the contents of the trunk, loosely rolled up +and thrown in after a harum-scarum fashion. + +"What will you do at St. Luke's?" she asked. + +"I am going there to mortify the flesh. Nursing I love, but to be tidy +is a penance to me." + +"Make a big effort," suggested Kathleen. + +"I wonder could I? I wouldn't enjoy a tidy room one bit. I would not so +much as dare to brush my hair for fear of disturbing the arrangements." + +"The Mother Superioress insists upon her nurses' appearance being spick +and span," said Kathleen. + +"For two ha'pence I would not go there, but ever since I cared for poor +Joe Mulcahy I have wished to be a nurse. Well, heaven help me and send +me the virtue of order." + +Kathleen had managed by rearrangement of the contents to find a place in +the trunk for the rebellious gown. She closed the trunk and tied the +straps. + +"I shall miss you every moment of the day," she sighed. + +"Why not come with me and keep my room tidy? Now that Denis Quirk is +home you have no call to be spending your life slaving for the old man." + +A hammering at the door prevented Kathleen O'Connor from replying. + +"What do you want with me?" cried Molly. + +"A gentleman would be asking to see you--Mr. Cairns," Mrs. Gorman +answered from the passage. + +"Now, what would he be wanting with me?" asked Molly. "Tell him I am +coming," she cried. "Am I tidy, Kathleen?" + +"Of course you are," replied Kathleen. "I will put the smaller things +in your bag for you while you entertain him." + +Molly found Cairns waiting for her in the passage. Always punctilious in +his dress to-day he was exceptionally spruce, his tie very new, and +clothes without one crease. + +"Come into the garden, Molly," he said, and there was an unaccustomed +nervousness in his voice that caused Molly to ask: + +"Are you not well, Mr. Cairns?" + +"Oh, yes--perfectly well," he answered. "Why do you ask?" + +"You look pale, and there is a kind of a quiver in your voice," she +answered as they strolled to a seat in the garden that overlooked the +town, a favourite place for Father Healy when saying his Office. + +"Sit down and rest yourself," Molly advised. "You get no peace down +there in the office. Denis Quirk believes you are all machinery like +himself." + +But Cairns remained standing behind the seat on which she sat. After a +short silence Molly Healy asked: + +"Now, what are you doing to my hair? Do be leaving it alone; it is +untidy enough already." + +"Molly," he said, and his voice caused her to turn suddenly. + +"I knew you were ill," she said. "It's the rest cure that would be doing +you good. Denis Quirk has overworked you." + +"Try to be serious for once," he asked. + +"Serious? There is no need for me to be serious. Your face is solemn +enough for the whole town. Just let my hair alone. There it was just put +up in a hurry and you have pulled it down." + +Molly had glorious brown hair, her one real beauty, and she rose with it +falling in waves to her waist. + +"If you only knew the work it is to build it up you would be down on +your knees begging forgiveness of me," she cried. + +"If you only knew that," he began, and ended with a mumbled "that I love +you?" + +Molly Healy dropped her hair and gazed at him in absolute surprise. + +"Did you come all this way to joke with me?" she asked. + +"Please take me seriously for once," said Cairns. "I don't want you to +go away from Grey Town if I can keep you here." + +Molly had fixed her hair up in haste. It formed a great tower on her +head, for she needed time to arrange it in order. Slowly dawning +surprise crept into her eyes as he spoke, surprise with perhaps a not +unnatural triumph. + +"I really believe you are in earnest," she said; "but I can't understand +it. They call me 'plain Molly Healy,' and I believe it from what the +glass tells me." + +"In my eyes you are beautiful," he replied. + +"No blarney, if you please," she said. "I don't love you, and that is a +fact, Mr. Cairns. But I will think of you--and perhaps--that is, if you +don't find someone else in the meantime--when I come back----." + +"How soon will that be?" he asked. + +"A matter of three years." + +"Three years!" he groaned; "an eternity to wait. I will give you three +months to think about it; then I will come to Melbourne and ask again." + +"And what will Mother Superioress say to me with a young man?" + +"Oh, blow--I mean, never mind the Mother Superioress. Quirk tells me she +is delightfully human, and as sympathetic as you are," replied Cairns. + +"Sympathetic? Sure, you must be in love to believe that of me. I am as +hard as flint. But come if you like, and bring me a big box of +chocolates. Will you now?" + +"I intend to bring a ring with me. What stones do you like best?" + +"Emeralds, to be sure, and diamonds. But don't be spending your money +until you are sure of me. I may be taking the veil myself." + +"If you do I shall destroy myself," said Cairns. + +"Would you do that for me?" she cried eagerly. "How would you do it?" + +"Oh, poison, or possibly a razor. But there will be no need for that." + +"And do you really love me--me, Molly Healy? I don't understand it. I am +plain and untidy, with never an accomplishment to my name. If I had +money I could see a reason for it. Why do you love me?" she asked. + +"Because you are Molly Healy, cheerful, light-hearted and kind," he +answered. + +"I intend to think of you all night and every night. I can't think of +you and be neglecting the day's work. But, perhaps, after three months, +I may be willing to consider the ring. Now be off with you, for I am +busy. You may kiss my hand, and here is a rose for you. Good-bye, Mr. +Cairns, for three months. Sure, I will miss you." + +To Kathleen O'Connor Molly confided Cairns' proposal. + +"I don't understand it," she sighed. "If it had been you, Kathleen, I +would not have wondered, for you are as beautiful as I am plain. But +what made the man be wanting me? I have nothing beyond my hair, and who +would be marrying a girl for her hair?" + +"If I were a man I would marry no other woman but Molly Healy. Plain! +Why, you are lovely, and you have a heart of gold, Molly," Kathleen +answered. + +"Mr. Cairns could not see my heart; it is what a man sees that he loves. +But I am perplexed what to do. I like Mr. Cairns, and he is an honest +gentleman, not like Gerard, all on the surface. But I don't fancy I love +him. What does it feel like to be in love, Kathleen?" + +Kathleen blushed scarlet at the question. + +"There is a real love and a false one," she said. "The false sort loves +a man, not for what he is, but for what he is imagined to be. The real +love comes from recognising that a man is noble and brave." + +Molly pondered a while over this. + +"Mr. Cairns is not young, and he is not beautiful," she soliloquised, +"but he is honest and brave, just a gentleman. Perhaps I might come to +love him in time." + +"Shall I prophesy?" Kathleen asked. + +"If it would be any help to you or to me, I would not be the one to stop +you." + +"Then I see you, in six months time, Mrs. Cairns," Kathleen answered. + +"I wish it had been O'Brien, or Fitzgerald, even O'Connor, but Desmond +has chosen the better way," said Molly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +GOOD AND EVIL. + + +It was evening again at "Layton." The moon was shining down on Kathleen +O'Connor as it shone on her that night when Gerard walked beside and +tempted her. She was pacing the shadowed avenue with Denis Quirk beside +her. Their voices were low, mere faint murmurs to Father Desmond +O'Connor, who sat on the verandah beside old Samuel Quirk and spoke an +occasional word to the old man. + +There was stillness in the garden, bright moonlight and dark shadows. +Overhead the heavens were glittering with a myriad stars. Well might +Kathleen's thoughts revert to that other night when danger paced beside +her. This night she had no dread, for Denis Quirk had been tried and +tempered by the furnace of suffering. Nevertheless, the girl's heart was +beating more rapidly than usual, because she recognised that this night +marked an epoch in her existence. + +For three months since his wife's death Denis Quirk had abstained from +asking that which was constantly in his mind. This he did, not because +he felt himself bound by a specious loyalty to a false wife, but that +Kathleen O'Connor might become accustomed to him in his new position. He +would not hurry nor attempt to constrain her; he preferred to give her +time to consider him as one permitted to woo her honourably. He became +more attentive, more openly anxious to give the girl whatever she +desired, more courteous in speech and action; but he refrained from +asking the inevitable question. + +As they walked side by side Kathleen had the feeling that Mrs. Quirk was +close to them. She could almost hear the voice calling "Kathleen" from +the drawing-room upstairs, but this night there was no note of warning +in the voice. She knew that "Granny" Quirk had looked forward to a union +between herself and Denis as the consummation of earthly happiness. She +believed that even in her present state of bliss her old friend would +rejoice in that union. + +Denis Quirk softened his voice to a tender key that is not customary. As +a general rule he spoke in the tone of command or in a blunt, off-hand +manner. To-night he had chosen the note of entreaty. + +"Kathleen" (he rested tenderly upon the word) "I have longed for you +many a day. Sometimes I have been torn by a tempest of passionate +desire. But I have always respected you, and that respect restrained me. +But if you had known the devouring furnace that has burned in me day and +night you would have pitied me. I was compelled to hold myself always in +hand, to avoid even an unguarded word or look, because I wished to walk +with honour beside me. Now I am free to speak all that is in my heart, +and that all is 'I love you and I desire you above all women.'" + +Kathleen did not answer at once. She was moved by the passion in his +voice; she had come to love him, but she was afraid. + +"I am frightened," she said in a low voice. + +"Frightened of me?" he asked. "Why, I will protect you against the whole +world. There is no place for fear." + +"You are asking me to give you myself, and if I give, I must give +unreservedly." + +"Take any time you like to consider it. I can wait," he answered gently. + +"No. I don't ask any longer time than a few minutes. Leave me alone for +ten minutes; then come to me." + +Without another word he returned to the verandah and seated himself +beside Father O'Connor, lighting his pipe and blowing thick volumes of +blue smoke into the evening air. + +Kathleen paced on alone. But suddenly the shrubs beside the avenue +parted and Gerard came out quietly. So softly did he step that he was +beside her before she recognised the fact. Then she shrank away from him +in terror. + +"Kathleen," he said, "I've tried to forget you, but I can't. I came here +to-night to ask you to come with me; I heard that cursed Quirk speaking +to you. What can you care for an ugly brute like that?" + +"He is as far above you," she said, "as that star is above the world. +How dare you even mention his name?" + +He paid no attention to her remark. + +"I don't come to ask you to share poverty. I offer you a good name and +a fortune," he said. "My father is dead and I am heir to great estates +and a time-honoured name." + +"If you offered me the world I would refuse it," she answered. + +"You loved me once----." + +"Never. That was mere imagination on my part, not real honest love," she +cried. "Go, at once, before Mr. Quirk returns." + +"No, I shall stay," he replied. + +"Then take the consequences." + +Denis Quirk's step was to be heard crunching the gravel as he came. When +he was near them Kathleen hurried to him. + +Denis increased his pace until he came to where Gerard stood. + +"I warned you not to come near this house," he said. + +"The moth comes to the candle. Your warning was useless," said Gerard. +"Night after night I have walked this avenue with Kathleen O'Connor. Now +she is tired of me." + +"Liar," cried Denis Quirk. + +"Abuse cannot alter what I say." + +"Put up your hands and defend yourself. I hate to strike a defenceless +man," said Denis, moved to fury. + +"Do you fancy I am afraid of you?" Gerard asked tauntingly. + +"Then take it," cried Denis Quirk, and his fist flew out suddenly, beat +down Gerard's guard, and stretched him on the gravel path. + +"You have killed him," cried Kathleen in sudden terror. + +"Not I. Such men as this never die." + +Denis stooped and examined the prostrate man. + +"He will live to lie again," he said. "I know him for a liar. Night +after night I have followed you, not because I distrusted you, but I +have seen him lurking about and I feared danger." + +She came to him with outstretched hands and hid herself in the big man's +arms. They went side by side up the long avenue, and their steps seemed +to march to a triumphant anthem. + + + + +POST SCRIPTUM. + + +Grey Town after many years, and Grey Town in the early summer, when the +farmers were congratulating themselves on fat factory cheques. But a +changed Grey Town, for prosperity had transformed the town. It was no +longer merely a country centre for a pastoral and agricultural district, +but a busy industrial town, where the manufacturing interests were as +important as the farming interests; where every morning a stream of +workers flowed from the outside suburbs into the town; where there was +bustle and noise and confusion; where money circulated freely; where men +grew rich and proud in the power of their money bags. A happier Grey +Town? Perhaps not quite so contented as the lazy, easy-going, and +self-satisfied Grey Town, as Denis Quirk had found it, for here +comparative poverty stood side by side with riches, and suffered in the +contrast. + +Prosperity had come to the town on sound lines, thanks to Denis Quirk. +He had provided that riches should not be accumulated in Grey Town at +the expense of suffering and discomfort to the poor. It was thanks to +him, so the Grey Towners said, that the factory area was separated from +the residential portion of the town. They also hinted in Grey Town that +he was largely responsible for the Government Bill, compelling +landlords to provide their tenants with sufficient space for a garden +and yard of greater extent than one might swing a cat in. There were +others in it, Grey Town acknowledged that; but their Member, their Denis +Quirk, was the prime mover. + +He was rich now, and happy, but I may safely say that no poor man paused +beside his gate to hurl a curse at the oppressor of the unfortunate. He +still had enemies--his determined and combative nature made that +unavoidable--but his enemies were of those who had been prevented from +exploiting the poor by his agency. These termed him an enemy to +progress, their notions of progress being summed up in self-progress. +And they vowed that "that demagogue Quirk" should go out when the +country recovered its mental equilibrium, lost for the time in an absurd +humanitarianism. He was in his garden, sitting on a garden seat, with a +book in his hand, but work had been declared an insult by the two rosy +rogues, a boy and a girl, by the way, who had escaped from Nurse, now +vainly seeking them in the house. Kathleen was beside her husband, +watching in an amused manner the subservience of the master of men to +the children. + +Kathleen, the elder, was a copy of her mother; Denis, the boy, promised +to be as good as his father; singly, they were powerful; united, as +to-day, they were irresistible. And they had decided that "Daddy" must +play a game with them, and the game should be hide and seek. + +"Hide 'oo eyes and count," said Kathleen, junior, in a compelling voice. + +"But Daddy wants to read," expostulated Mother, in a tone of entreaty. + +"Daddy mustn't read to-day. It's Denny's birfday. Daddies don't read on +their little boys' birfdays, does they, Denny?" + +"No," replied Denny, in a voice of conviction. + +"What do Daddies do under such circumstances?" asked Denis, senior, in +an amused tone of voice. + +"What their little girls wants them to do, doesn't them, Denny?" + +"'Es," answered Denny, seeing no reason to controvert this reasoning. + +"But it's not your birthday, Kath," suggested Mother. + +"It's Denny's, and Denny gave it to me, 'cos I told him I wouldn't kiss +him if he didn't." + +Here the peculiar injustice of this proceeding suddenly struck Denny, +and he began to cry, not in a quiet and subdued manner, as a respectable +boy would, but in a stentorian roar. + +It was at this moment that Molly Healy came up the avenue, and she +rushed at and snatched Denny up in her arms. + +"Were they cruel to my boy on his birthday? Never mind. Molly's brought +you something nice," she cried. + +"Now, be under no misapprehensions, Miss Molly Healy. Neither Kathleen +nor I have done anything to deserve that scornful look. If you must +scold anyone, there is the culprit. Kath. has swindled Denny out of his +birthday." + +Kath. had noted the result of Denny's roaring, and she argued that +similar conduct on her part would meet with similar treatment. +Therefore, she took up the strain of loud weeping, from which Molly had +interrupted her brother. + +"Something for you, too, Kath.," cried the kind-hearted and impulsive +Molly, handing Kath. a parcel similar to that which the boy was hugging +in his arms. Straightway Kath. ceased from tears, and consented, when +Nurse appeared, to accompany her indoors and there investigate the +contents. + +"I've done it at last!" said Molly, when she had ceased from bestowing +kisses on the children, greatly to Nurse's indignation, and had +permitted them to be led away. + +"You don't mean to tell me!" cried Kathleen, springing up impulsively +and kissing Molly. + +"Done what? Murder, suicide, or the Confiding Public?" asked Denis. + +"Oh! you old stupid. You never understand," cried Kathleen. + +"I claim to understand the English language when it is openly expressed. +But I lay no claim to a knowledge of female wireless telegraphy. Miss +Molly tells you, in the tone of one who confesses a crime, that she has +'done it at last.' If she will explain, I may possibly be able to change +the sentence from murder to justifiable homicide." + +Kathleen went to him and whispered in his ear. + +He rose, and grasped Molly's hand so firmly that she winced under his +pressure. + +"And why was this not done years ago?" he asked. "Why keep an +unfortunate poor man constantly on the verge of suicide?" + +"I was getting over Desmond," replied Molly! "It takes a girl a long +time to recover from a heart affection, and I was trying him to learn if +he was constant." + +"Well, better late than never. I wish you and Cairns joy. Have you +mastered housekeeping yet?" + +"There you are!" cried Molly triumphantly. "How should I marry and never +know how to look after the man's house? But I am getting on now, and I +don't expect to be much better this side of the grave, so when he came +with his monthly 'Will you?' I just dropped into his arms, and that +ended it." + +"And what did Cairns do under those distressing circumstances?" + +"He didn't know exactly what to do until I told him. Then he did it +fairly well for an amateur." + +"And when do you intend to be married?" asked Kathleen. + +"Next week, to be sure," answered Molly without hesitation. + +"Impossible! It would be an outrage on the conventialities," cried +Denis. + +"And haven't I been outraging them ever since I came to Grey Town? If +they expect anything ordinary of Molly Healy, they won't get what they +expect. Next week will be Easter, and Desmond here to marry us, and next +week will see Molly Healy Molly Cairns." + + +[Illustration: THE END] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Grey Town, by Gerald Baldwin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREY TOWN *** + +***** This file should be named 26034.txt or 26034.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/0/3/26034/ + +Produced by Nick Wall, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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