rt of intoxicated Coriolanus, believing that the people should
be shepherded with a stick, yet always mindful of his manners, even to
the lowliest of women. It was said of him with pride by the townsfolk
of Ramelton, that even at his worst, when he came galloping down the
steep cobbled streets, mounted on a big white mare of seventeen hands,
with his inseparable collie dog for his companion,--a gaunt, grey-faced,
grey-haired man, with a drooping eye, swaying with drink, yet by a
miracle keeping his saddle,--he had never ridden down any one except a
man. There are two points to be added. He was rather afraid of his
daughter, who wisely kept him doubtful whether she was displeased with
him or not, and he had conceived a great liking for Harry Feversham.

Harry saw little of him that day, however. Dermod retired into the room
which he was pleased to call his office, while Feversham and Ethne spent
the afternoon fishing for salmon in the Lennon River. It was an
afternoon restful as a Sabbath, and the very birds were still. From the
house the lawns fell steeply, shaded by trees and dappled by the
sunlight, to a valley, at the bottom of which flowed the river swift and
black under overarching boughs. There was a fall, where the water slid
over rocks with a smoothness so unbroken that it looked solid except
just at one point. There a spur stood sharply up, and the river broke
back upon itself in an amber wave through which the sun shone. Opposite
this spur they sat for a long while, talking at times, but for the most
part listening to the roar of the water and watching its perpetual flow.
And at last the sunset came, and the long shadows. They stood up, looked
at each other with a smile, and so walked slowly back to the house. It
was an afternoon which Feversham was long to remember; for the next
night was the night of the dance, and as the band struck up the opening
bars of the fourth waltz, Ethne left her position at the drawing-room
door, and taking Feversham's arm passed out into the hall.

The hall was empty, and the front door stood open to the cool of the
summer night. From the ballroom came the swaying lilt of the music and
the beat of the dancers' feet. Ethne drew a breath of relief at her
reprieve from her duties, and then dropping her partner's arm, crossed
to a side table.

"The post is in," she said. "There are letters, one, two, three, for
you, and a little box."

She held the box out to him as she spoke,--a l