surper-one of the demon's brood chased his very name out of Earlsfont!

'Camminy, you must try to amuse yourself,' he said briskly. 'Anything you
may be wanting at home shall be sent for. I must have you here to make
sure that I am acting under good advice. You can take one of the keepers
for an hour or two of shooting. I may join you in the afternoon. You will
find occupation for your gun in the north covers.'

He wandered about the house, looking into several rooms, and only
partially at rest when he discovered Caroline in one, engaged upon some
of her aquarelle sketches. He asked where the young Irishman was.

'Are you in search of him?' said she. 'You like him, uncle? He is out
riding, they tell me.'

'The youngster is used to south-western showers in that climate of his,'
Mr. Adister replied. 'I dare say we could find the Jesuit in him
somewhere. There's the seed. His cousin Con O'Donnell has filled him with
stuff about Ireland and England: the man has no better to do than to
train a parrot. What do you think of him, my love?'

The judgement was not easily formed for expression. 'He is not quite like
what I remember of his brother Philip. He talks much more, does he not?
He seems more Irish than his brother. He is very strange. His feelings
are strong; he has not an idea of concealing them. For a young man
educated by the Jesuits, he is remarkably open.'

'The Jesuits might be of service to me just now!' Mr. Adister addressed
his troubled soul, and spoke upon another conception of them: 'How has he
shown his feelings?'

Caroline answered quickly: 'His love of his brother. Anything that
concerns his brother moves him; it is like a touch on a musical
instrument. Perhaps I should say a native one.'

'Concerns his brother?' Mr. Adister inquired, and his look requesting
enlightenment told her she might speak.

'Adiante,' she said softly. She coloured.

Her uncle mused awhile in a half-somnolent gloom. 'He talks of this at
this present day?'

'It is not dead to him. He really appears to have hoped . . . he is
extraordinary. He had not heard before of her marriage. I was a witness
of the most singular scene this morning, at the piano. He gathered it
from what he had heard. He was overwhelmed by it. I could not exaggerate.
It was impossible to help being a little touched, though it was curious,
very strange.'

Her uncle's attentiveness incited her to describe the scene, and as it
visibly relieved his melancho