and, we
might go for a tour round Ireland, and see the places that Ireland
loves best."

She was eager for a change of scene and a few weeks later they began
their wanderings. The first place they visited was Tara, and, standing
on the Mound of the Hostages, Ellen pointed out the Rath of Crania. All
over Ireland there are cromlechs, and the people point to those as the
places where the lovers had rested in their flight. Grania became one
of Ned's heroines, and he spoke so much of her that Ellen grew a little
jealous. They talked of her under the ruins of Dun Angus and under the
arches of Cormac's Chapel, the last and most beautiful piece of Irish
architecture.

"We were getting on very well," Ned said, "until the English came. This
was the last thing we did and after this no more."

On another occasion he ascribed the failure of the Irish in art and
literature to the fact that they had always loved the next world, and
that the beautiful world under their feet had been neglected or given
over to priests. "I hope, Ned," said she, "that you will soon be at the
head of affairs."

He took her hand and they wandered on amid the ruins, saying that as
soon as their honeymoon was over they were going to live in a pretty
house at the foot of the Dublin mountains.

Her father had offered to make her an allowance, but she preferred a
lump sum, and this lump sum of many thousands of pounds had been
invested in foreign securities, for Ellen wished that Ned should be
free to advocate whatever policy he judged best for Ireland.

"My dear, shall we buy this table?"

And while the price and the marquetry were discussed she remembered
suddenly that a most experienced electioneering agent was coming to
dinner.

"I wish you hadn't asked him," said Ned; "I looked forward to spending
the evening with you," and he watched happiness flash into her eyes.

"There are plenty of evenings before us, and I hope you won't be tired
of spending them with me."

He said he never wished for better company, and they strolled on
through the show-rooms.

Turning from some tapestried curtains, he told her he was weary of the
life of the camp. One night in Cuba they had crossed a mountain by a
bridle-path. At the top of the mountain they had come to a ledge of
rock three feet high and had to leap their horses one by one up this
ledge, and the enemy might have attacked them at any moment. And this
incident was typical of what his life had been for