CHAPTER XXVII

  I slept well that night, and it was broad daylight when I awoke. Amost beautiful morning it seemed to me, and just the time for a lonelystroll in the beautiful gardens, so long as there was some one withyou that you thought a great deal of. I made a good breakfast, andthen took out the papers and placed them on the table before me. Theywere all safe so far. I could not comprehend how the Earl would knowanything of my being in London, unless, indeed, he caught sight of mewalking in his own gardens with his own daughter, and then, belike, hewas so jealous a man that he would maybe come to the conclusion I wasin London as well as himself.

  After breakfast Paddy and Jem came in, looking as bold as BlarneyCastle; and when I eyed them both I saw that neither one nor the otherwas a fit custodian for papers that might make the proudest Earl inEngland a poor man or a rich man, depending which way they went. So Iput the documents in my own pocket without more ado, and gave up mythoughts to a pleasanter subject. I changed my mind about a disguise,and put on my back the best clothes that I had to wear. I wished I hadthe new suits I had been measured for, but the spalpeen of a tailorwould not let me have them unless I paid him some of the money theycost. When I came to think over it I saw that Strammers would surelynever recognize me as a gay spark of fashion when he had merely seenme once before, torn and ragged, coming down from a tree on top of hisblunderbuss. So I instructed Paddy to say that he and Jem wereservants of the best master in the world, who was a great lover ofgardens; that he was of immense generosity, and if Strammers allowedhim to come into the gardens by the little door he would be a richerman when the door was opened than he would be if he kept it shut. Ihad been long enough in London to learn the golden method ofpersuasion; any how I could not bring myself to the chance of meetingwith my lady, and me dressed worse than one of her own servants.

  We were all in the lane when the church bells ceased to ring, and ifany one had seen us he would simply have met a comely young Irishgentleman taking the air of a Sunday morning with two faithfulservants at his heels. I allowed something like ten impatient minutesto crawl past me, and then, as the lane was clear and every one forthe church within its walls, I tipped a nod to Paddy, and he, with Jemby his side, tapped lightly at the door, while I stood behind thetrunk of the tree up which I had climbed before. There was no sign ofDoctor Chord in the vicinity, and for that I was thankful, because upto the last moment I feared the little man could not help intrudinghimself on what was somebody else's business.

  The door was opened with some caution, letting Paddy and Jem enter;then it was closed, and I heard the bolts shot into their places. ButI was speedily to hear more than bolts that Sunday morning. There wasa sound of thumping sticks, and I heard a yell that might well havepenetrated to the "Pig and Turnip" itself, although it was miles away.I knew Paddy's cry, and next there came some good English cursing fromJem Bottles, while a shrill voice called out:--

  "Catch the red-haired one; he's the villain we want!"

  In the midst of various exclamations, maledictions, and otherconstructions of speech, mingled, I thought, with laughter, I flung myshoulder against the door, but I might as well have tried to batterdown the wall itself. The door was as firm as Macgillicuddy Reeks. Iknow when I am beat as well as the next man, and, losing no more timethere, I ran as fast as I could along the wall, out of the lane, andso to the front of the house. The main entrance was protected by greatgates of wrought iron, which were opened on occasion by a man in alittle cubby of a cabin that stood for a porter's lodge. The manwasn't there, and the gates were locked; but part of one of the hugewings of wrought iron was a little gate that stood ajar. This I pushedopen, and, unmolested, stepped inside.

  The trees and shrubbery hid from me the scene that was taking placeinside the little wooden door. I dashed through the underbrush andcame to the edge of a broad lawn, and there was going on as fine ascrimmage as any man could wish to see. Jem Bottles had his backagainst the wooden door, and was laying about him with a stout stick;half a dozen tall fellows in livery making a great show of attack,but keeping well out of range of his weapon. Poor Paddy had the broadof his back on the turf, and it looked like they were trying to tearthe clothes off him, for another half-dozen were on top of him; but Ican say this in his favour, Paddy was using his big feet and doinggreat execution with them. Every now and then he planted a boot in thewell-fed front of a footman or under-gardener, and sent him flying.The whole household seemed to be present, and one could hardly believethere was such a mob in a single mansion. The Earl of Westport wasthere, and who stood beside him but that little villain, Doctor Chord.

  But it was the Countess herself that was directing operations. She hadan ebony stick in her hands, and when Paddy kicked one of herunderlings the vigorous old lady smote the overturned servant to makehim to the fray again. It was an exciting scene, and Donnybrook wasnothing to it. Their backs were all toward me, and I was just bubblingwith joy to think what a surprise I was about to give them,--for Idrew my sword and had a yell of defiance on my lips,--when a cry thatnobody paid the least attention to turned my mind in another directionentirely.

  One of the first-floor windows was open, and over the sill leaned LadyMary herself, her face aflush with anger.

  "Father! Mother!" she cried. "Are not you ashamed of yourselves,making this commotion on a Sunday morning? Call the servants away fromthere! Let the two poor men go! Oh, shame, shame upon you."

  She wrung her hands, but, as I was saying, nobody paid the slightestheed to her, and I doubt if any of them heard her, for Paddy was notkeeping silence by any manner of means. He was taking the worst of allthe blows that fell on him in a vigorous outcry.

  "Murther! murther!" he shouted. "Let me on me feet, an' I'll knock yezall into the middle of county Clare."

  No one, however, took advantage of this generous offer, but they keptas clear as they could of his miscellaneous feet, and the Countesspoked him in the ribs with the point of her ebony stick whenever shewasn't laying it over the backs of her servants.

  Now, no man can ever say that I was a laggard when a goodold-fashioned contest was going on, and the less indolence wasobservable on my own part when friends of mine were engaged in thefray. Sure I was always eager enough, even when it was a stranger'sdebate, and I wonder what my father would think of me now, to see meveer from the straight course of battle and thrust my unstruck swordonce more into its scabbard. It was the face in the window that mademe forget friend and foe alike. Lady Mary was the only member of thehousehold that was not on the lawn, and was protesting unheard againstthe violence to two poor men who were there because they had beeninvited to come by the under-gardener.

  I saw in the twinkling of an eye that the house had been deserted onthe first outcry. Doors were left wide open for the whole world toenter. I dodged behind the trees, scuttled up the gravelled driveway,leaped the stone steps three at a time, and before you could say"Ballymuggins" I was in the most superb hall in which I ever set myfoot. It was a square house with the stairway in the middle. I keptin my mind's eye the direction of the window in which Lady Mary hadappeared. Quick as a bog-trotter responds to an invitation to drink, Imounted that grand stairway, turned to my right, and came to a dooropposite which I surmised was the window through which Lady Mary wasleaning. Against this door I rapped my knuckles, and speedily I heardthe sweet voice of the most charming girl in all the world demand withsomething like consternation in its tones,--

  "Who is there?"

  "It's me, Lady Mary!" said I. "The O'Ruddy, who begs the privilege ofa word with you."

  I heard the slam of a window being shut, then the sound of a lightstep across the floor, and after that she said with a catch in hervoice,--

  "I'll be pleased you should come in, Mr. O'Ruddy."

  I tried the door, but found it locked.

  "How can I come in, Lady Mary," says I, "if you've got bolts heldagainst me?"

  "There are no bolts," said Lady Mary; "the key should be on theoutside. I am locked in. Look for
the key and open the door."

  Was ever a more delightful sentence spoken to a man? My heart was inmy throat with joy. I glanced down, and there, sure enough, stuck thekey. I turned it at once, then pulled it out of the lock and openedthe door.

  "Lady Mary," says I, "with your permission, it seems to me a doorshould be locked from the inside."

  With that I thrust the key through the far side of the door, closedit, and locked it. Then I turned round to face her.

  The room, it was plain to be seen, was the parlour of a lady,--aboudoir, as they call it in France, a word that my father was veryfond of using, having caught it when he was on the campaign in thatdelightful country. The boudoir was full of confections and charminglittle dainties in the way of lace, and easy chairs, and bookcases,and little writing-desks, and a work-basket here and there; but thefinest ornament it possessed was the girl who now stood in the middleof the floor with a frown on her brow that was most becoming. Yes,there was a frown on her brow, although I expected a smile on her lipsbecause of the cordial invitation she had given me to come in.

  It would seem to either you or me that if a lady suffered theindignity of being locked in her room, just as if she was a child ofsix years old, she would welcome with joy the person who came andreleased her. Now, my father, who was the wisest man sinceSolomon,--and indeed, as I listened to him, I've often thought thatSolomon was overpraised,--my father used to say there was no mysteryat all about women. "You just think," he would say, "of what asensible man would do on a certain occasion; then configure out inyour mind the very opposite, and that's what a woman will do." A manwho had been imprisoned would have held out his hand and have said,"God bless you, O'Ruddy; but I'm glad to see you." And here stood thisfine lady in the middle of her room, looking at me as if I were thedirt beneath her feet, and had forced my way into her presence,instead of being invited like a man of honour to enter.

  "Well, Mr. O'Ruddy," she said, throwing back her head, haughty-like,"Why do you stand dallying in a lady's bower when your followers arebeing beaten on the lawn outside?"

  I cannot give you Lady Mary's exact words, for I was so astonished attheir utterance; but I give you a very good purport of them.

  "Is it the beating of my men?" I said. "Troth, that's what I pay themfor. And whoever gives them a good drubbing saves me the trouble. Isaw they had Paddy down on the turf, but he's a son of the ould sod,and little he'll mind being thrown on his mother. But if it's JemBottles you're anxious about, truth to tell I'm more sorry for thosethat come within range of his stick than for Jem with his back to thewall. Bottles can take care of himself in any company, for he's ahighwayman in an excellent way of business."

  I always like to mention anything that's in favour of a man, and so Itold her what profession Bottles followed. She gave a toss of herhead, and gave me a look that had something like contempt in it, whichwas far from being pleasant to endure. Then she began walking up anddown the room, and it was plain to see that my Lady was far from beingpleased with me.

  "Poor fellows! Poor faithful fellows! That's what comes of having afool for a master."

  "Indeed, your ladyship," said I, drawing myself up to my full height,which wasn't so very much short of the door itself, "there are worsethings than blows from a good honest cudgel. You might better say,'This is what comes to a master with two fools for servants.'"

  "And what comes to a master?" she demanded. "Sure no one asks you tobe here."

  "That shows how short your ladyship's memory is," said I with someirritation. "Father Donovan used to tell me that the shortest thing inthe world was the interval between an insult and a blow in Ireland,but I think a lady's memory is shorter still. 'Turn the key and comein,' says you. What is that, I would like to know, but an invitation."

  It appeared to me that she softened a bit, but she continued her walkup and down the room and was seemingly in great agitation. The criesoutside had stopped, but whether they had murdered both Jem Bottlesand Paddy I had no means at that moment of knowing, and I hope the twowill forgive me when I say that my thoughts were far from them.

  "You will understand," said Lady Mary, speaking still with resentmentin her voice, "that the papers you held are the key to the situation.Have you no more sense than to trust them to the care of a red-headedclown from whom they can be taken as easy as if they were picked upoff the street?"

  "Indeed, believe me, Lady Mary, that no red-headed clown has anypapers of mine."

  "Indeed, and I think you speak the true word there. The papers are nowin my father's possession, and he will know how to take care of them."

  "Well, he didn't know that the last time he had them," I cried,feeling angry at these unjust accusations, and not being able to bearthe compliment to the old man, even if he was an Earl. "The papers,"said I, "are as easily picked from me as from the street, like youwere saying just now; but it isn't a pack of overfed flunkeys thatwill lift them from me. Lady Mary, on a previous occasion I placed thepapers in your hands; now, with your kind permission, I lay them atyour feet,"--and, saying this with the most courteous obeisance, Iknelt with one knee on the floor and placed the packet of papers whereI said I would place them.

  Now, ever since that, the Lady Mary denies that she kicked them to theother end of the room. She says that as she was walking to and fro thetoe of her foot touched the packet and sent it spinning; and, as noreal Irishman ever yet contradicted a lady, all I will say is that theprecious bundle went hurtling to the other end of the room, and it isvery likely that Lady Mary thought the gesture of her foot a trifletoo much resembled an action of her mother, the Countess, for hermanner changed in the twinkling of an eye, and she laughed like herold self again.

  "Mr. O'Ruddy," she said, "you put me out of all patience. You're assimple as if you came out of Ireland yesterday."

  "It's tolerably well known," said I, "by some of your expertswordsmen, that I came out the day before."

  Again Lady Mary laughed.

  "You're not very wise in the choice of your friends," she said.

  "I am, if I can count you as one of them," I returned.

  She made no direct reply to this, but continued:

  "Can't you see that that little Doctor Chord is a traitor? He has beentelling my father all you have been doing and all you have beenplanning, and he says you are almost simple enough to have given thepapers into his own keeping no longer ago than last night."

  "Now, look you, Lady Mary, how much you misjudged me. The littlevillain asked for the papers, but he didn't get them; then he advisedme to give them to a man I could trust, and when I said the only man Icould trust was red-headed Paddy out yonder, he was delighted to thinkI was to leave them in his custody. But you can see for yourself I didnothing of the kind, and if your people thought they could getanything out of Paddy by bad language and heroic kicks they weremistaken."

  At that moment we had an interruption that brought our conversation toa standstill and Lady Mary to the door, outside which her mother wascrying,--

  "Mary, Mary! where's the key?"

  "Where should it be?" said Lady Mary, "but in the door."

  "It is not in the door," said the Countess wrathfully, shaking it asif she would tear it down.

  "It is in the door," said Lady Mary positively; and quite right shewas, for both of us were looking at it.

  "It is not in the door," shouted her mother. "Some of the servantshave taken it away."

  Then we heard her calling over the banisters to find out who had takenaway the key of Lady Mary's room. There was a twinkle in Mary's eye,and a quiver in the corners of her pretty mouth that made me feel shewould burst out laughing, and indeed I had some ado to keep silencemyself.

  "What have you done with those two poor wretches you were maltreatingout in the garden?" asked Lady Mary.

  "Oh, don't speak of them," cried the Countess, evidently in no goodhumour. "It was all a scandal for nothing. The red-headed beast didnot have the papers. That little fool, Chord, has misled both yourfather and me. I could
wring his neck for him, and now he ispalavering your father in the library and saying he will get thepapers himself or die in the attempt. It serves us right for payingattention to a babbling idiot like him. I said in the first place thatthat Irish baboon of an O'Ruddy was not likely to give them to the apethat follows him."

  "Tare-an-ounds!" I cried, clenching my fists and making for the door;but Lady Mary rattled it so I could not be heard, and the next instantshe placed her snow-flake hand across my mouth, which was as pleasanta way of stopping an injudicious utterance as ever I had beenacquainted with.

  "Mary," said the Countess, "your father is very much agitated anddisappointed, so I'm taking him out for a drive. I have told thebutler to look out for the key, and when he finds it he will let youout. You've only yourself to blame for being locked in, because weexpected the baboon himself and couldn't trust you in his presence."

  It was now Lady Mary's turn to show confusion at the old termagant'stalk, and she coloured as red as a sunset on the coast of Kerry. Iforgave the old hag her discourteous appellation of "baboon" becauseof the joyful intimation she gave me through the door that Lady Marywas not to be trusted when I was near by. My father used to say thatif you are present when an embarrassment comes to a lady it is wellnot to notice it, else the embarrassment will be transferred toyourself. Remembering this, I pretended not to see Lady Mary's flamingcheeks, and, begging her pardon, walked up the room and picked fromthe corner the bundle of papers which had, somehow or other comethere, whether kicked or not. I came back to where she was standingand offered them to her most respectfully, as if they, and notherself, were the subject of discussion.

  "Hush," said Lady Mary in a whisper; "sit down yonder and see how longyou can keep quiet."

  She pointed to a chair that stood beside a beautifully polished tableof foreign wood, the like of which I had never seen before, and I,wishing very much to please her, sat down where she told me and placedthe bundle of papers on the table. Lady Mary tiptoed over, aslight-footed as a canary-bird, and sat down on the opposite side ofthe table, resting her elbows on the polished wood, and, with her chinin her hands, gazed across at me, and a most bewildering scrutiny Ifound it, rendering it difficult for me to keep quiet and seated, asshe had requested. In a minute or two we heard the crunch of wheels onthe gravel in front, then the carriage drove off, and the big gatesclanked together.

  Still Lady Mary poured the sunshine of her eyes upon me, and I hopeand trust she found me a presentable young man, for under the warmthof her look my heart began to bubble up like a pot of potatoes on astrong fire.

  "You make me a present of the papers, then?" said Lady Mary at last.

  "Indeed and I do, and of myself as well, if you'll have me. And thislatter is a thing I've been trying to say to you every time I met you,Mary acushla, and no sooner do the words come to my lips than somedoddering fool interrupts us; but now, my darling, we are alonetogether, in that lover's paradise which is always typified by alocked door, and at last I can say the things--"

  Just here, as I mentioned the word "door," there came a rap at it, andLady Mary started as if some one had fired a gun.

  "Your ladyship," said the butler, "I cannot find the key. Shall I sendfor a locksmith?"

  "Oh, no," said Lady Mary, "do not take the trouble. I have letters towrite, and do not wish to be disturbed until my mother returns."

  "Very good, your ladyship," returned the butler, and he walked away.

  "A locksmith!" said Lady Mary, looking across the table at me.

  "Love laughs at them," said I.

  Lady Mary smiled very sweetly, but shook her head.

  "This is not a time for laughter," she said, "but for seriousness.Now, I cannot risk your staying here longer, so will tell you what Ihave to say as quickly as possible. Your repeatedly interrupteddeclaration I take for truth, because the course of true love neverdid run smooth. Therefore, if you want me, you must keep the papers."

  At this I hastily took the bundle from the table and thrust it in mypocket, which action made Lady Mary smile again.

  "Have you read them?" she asked.

  "I have not."

  "Do you mean to say you have carried these papers about for so longand have not read them?"

  "I had no curiosity concerning them," I replied. "I have somethingbetter to look at," I went on, gazing across at her; "and when that isnot with me the memory of it is, and it's little I care for a pack ofmusty papers and what's in them."

  "Then I will tell you what they are," said Lady Mary. "There are inthat packet the title-deeds to great estates, the fairest length ofland that lies under the sun in Sussex. There is also a letter writtenby my father's own hand, giving the property to your father."

  "But he did not mean my father to keep it," said I.

  "No, he did not. He feared capture, and knew the ransom would be heavyif they found evidence of property upon him. Now all these years hehas been saying nothing, but collecting the revenues of this estateand using them, while another man had the legal right to it."

  "Still he has but taken what was his own," said I, "and my fathernever disputed that, always intending to come over to England andreturn the papers to the Earl; but he got lazy-like, by sitting at hisown fireside, and seldom went farther abroad than to the house of thepriest; but his last injunctions to me were to see that the Earl gothis papers, and indeed he would have had them long since if he had buttreated me like the son of an old friend."

  "Did your father mention that the Earl would give you any reward forreturning his property to him?"

  "He did not," I replied with indignation. "In Ireland, when a frienddoes a friend's part, he doesn't expect to be paid for it."

  "But don't you expect a reward for returning them?"

  "Lady Mary," said I, "do you mean to be after insulting me? Thesepapers are not mine, but the Earl of Westport's, and he can have themwithout saying as much as 'Thank you kindly' for them."

  Lady Mary leaned back in her chair and looked at me with half-closedeyes, then she stretched forth her hand and said:

  "Give me the papers."

  "But it's only a minute since," I cried, perplexed, "that you heldthem to be the key of the situation, and said if I didn't keep them Iwould never get you."

  "Did I say that?" asked Lady Mary with the innocence of athree-year-old child. "I had no idea we had come to such a conclusion.Now do you want a little advice about those same papers?"

  "As long as the advice comes from you, Mary darling, I want it on anysubject."

  "You have come into England brawling, sword-playing, cudgel-flinging,and never till this moment have you given a thought to what the papersare for. These papers represent the law."

  "Bad cess to it," said I. "My father used to say, have as little to dowith the law as possible, for what's the use of bringing your man intothe courts when a good shillelah is speedier and more satisfactory toall concerned."

  "That may be true in Ireland, but it is not true in England. Now, hereis my advice. You know my father and mother, and if you'll just quitstaring your eyes out at me, and think for a minute, you may be ableto tell when you will get their consent to pay your addresses to mewithout interruption." Here she blushed and looked down.

  "Indeed," said I, "I don't need to take my eyes from you to answer_that_ question. It'll be the afternoon following the Day ofJudgment."

  "Very well. You must then stand on your rights. I will give you aletter to a man in the Temple, learned in the law. He was legaladviser to my aunt, who left me all her property, and she told me thatif I ever was in trouble I was to go to him; but instead of that I'llsend my trouble to him with a letter of introduction. I advise you totake possession of the estate at Brede, and think no more of giving upthe papers to my father until he is willing to give you something inreturn. You may then ask what you like of him; money, goods, or afarm,"--and again a bright red colour flooded her cheeks. With thatshe drew toward her pen and paper and dashed off a letter which shegave to me.

 
"I think," she said, "it would be well if you left the papers with theman in the Temple; he will keep them safely, and no one will suspectwhere they are; while, if you need money, which is likely, he will beable to advance you what you want on the security of the documents youleave with him."

  "Is it money?" said I, "sure I couldn't think of drawing money onproperty that belongs to your good father, the Earl."

  "As I read the papers," replied Lady Mary, very demurely, casting downher eyes once more, "the property does not belong to my good father,the Earl, but to the good-for-nothing young man named O'Ruddy. I thinkthat my father, the Earl, will find that he needs your signaturebefore he can call the estate his own once more. It may be I am wrong,and that your father, by leaving possession so long in the hands ofthe Earl, may have forfeited his claim. Mr. Josiah Brooks will tellyou all about that when you meet him in the Temple. You may dependupon it that if he advances you money your claim is good, and, yourclaim being good, you may make terms with even so obstreperous a manas my father."

  "And if I make terms with the father," I cried, "do you think hiscomely daughter will ratify the bargain?"

  Lady Mary smiled very sweetly, and gave me the swiftest and shyest ofglances across the table from her speaking eyes, which next instantwere hidden from me.

  "May be," she said, "the lawyer could answer that question."

  "Troth," I said, springing to my feet, "I know a better one to ask itof than any old curmudgeon poring over dry law-books, and the answerI'm going to have from your own lips."

  Then, with a boldness that has ever characterized the O'Ruddys, Iswung out my arms and had her inside o' them before you could sayBallymoyle. She made a bit of a struggle and cried breathlessly:

  "I'll answer, if you'll sit in that chair again."

  "It's not words," says I, "I want from your lips, but this,"--and Ismothered a little shriek with one of the heartiest kisses that evertook place out of Ireland itself, and it seemed to me that herstruggle ceased, or, as one might say, faded away, as my lips came incontact with hers; for she suddenly weakened in my arms so that I hadto hold her close to me, for I thought she would sink to the floor ifI did but leave go, and in the excitement of the moment my own headwas swimming in a way that the richest of wine had never made it swimbefore. Then Lady Mary buried her face in my shoulder with a littlesigh of content, and I knew she was mine in spite of all the Earls andCountesses in the kingdom, or estates either, so far as that went. Atlast she straightened up and made as though she would push me fromher, but held me thus at arms' length, while her limpid eyes lookedlike twin lakes of Killarney on a dreamy misty morning when there's nowind blowing.

  "O'Ruddy," she said, solemnly, with a little catch in her voice,"you're a bold man, and I think you've no doubt of your answer; butwhat has happened makes me the more anxious for your success indealing with those who will oppose both your wishes and mine. My dearlover, is what I call you now; you have come over in tempestuousfashion, with a sword in your hand, striving against every one whowould stand up before you. After this morning, all that should bechanged, for life seems to have become serious and momentous. O'Ruddy,I want your actions to be guided, not by a drawn sword, but byreligion and by law."

  "Troth, Mary acushla, an Irishman takes to religion of his own nature,but I much misdoubt me if it comes natural to take to the law."

  "How often have you been to mass since you came to England, O'Ruddy?"

  "How often?" says I, wrinkling my brow, "indeed you mean, how manytimes?"

  "Yes; how many times?"

  "Now, Mary, how could you expect me to be keeping count of them?"

  "Has your attendance, then, been so regular?"

  "Ah, Mary, darling; it's not me that has the face to tell you a lie,and yet I'm ashamed to say that I've never set foot in a church sinceI crossed the channel, and the best of luck it is for me that good oldFather Donovan doesn't hear these same words."

  "Then you will go to church this very day and pray for heaven'sblessing on both of us."

  "It's too late for the mass this Sunday, Mary, but the churches areopen, and the first one I come to will have me inside of it."

  With that she drew me gently to her, and herself kissed me, meetingnone of that resistance which I had encountered but a short timebefore; and then, as bitter ill luck would have it, at this deliciousmoment we were startled by the sound of carriage-wheels on the graveloutside.

  "Oh!" cried Lady Mary in a panic; "how time has flown!"

  "Indeed," said I, "I never knew it so fast before."

  And she, without wasting further time in talking, unlocked the door,whipped out the key, and placed it where I had found it in thebeginning. She seemed to think of everything in a moment, and I wouldhave left her letter and the papers on the table if it hadn't been forthat cleverest of all girls, who, besides her lips of honey, had analert mind, which is one of the things appreciated in Ireland. I thenfollowed her quickly down a narrow back stairway and out into a glasshouse, where a little door at the end led us into a deliciouslyshaded walk, free from all observation, with a thick screen of treeson the right hand and the old stone wall on the left.

  Here I sprang quickly to overtake her, but she danced away like afairy in the moonlight, throwing a glance of mischief over hershoulder at me, with her finger on her lips. It seemed to me a pitythat so sylvan a dell should merely be used for the purposes of speed,but in a jiffy Mary was at the little door in the wall and had thebolts drawn back, and I was outside before I understood what hadhappened, listening to bolts being thrust back again, and my onlyconsolation was the remembrance of a little dab at my lips as I passedthrough, as brief and unsatisfactory as the peck of a sparrow.

 
Stephen Crane and Robert Barr's Novels