he dog. He
is devoted to dumb animals. In any case, he would not have objected to a
gentleman walking in his woods. That the postern gate is left open is a
proof that people come and go as they will."

"That may be," he said. "The St. Legers have always been at peace with
their fellow-men, yet I would not be caught a trespasser."

There was a sudden darkness by which I conjectured that the sun had sunk
below the horizon.

"I must be going," I said in a great hurry. "They will be anxious about
me at home. For the rest, _I_ give you the freedom of the woods. Come
and go when you will. You are welcome to Aghadoe."

His face lit up.

"Faith, it's pleasant to a homeless man like myself to be assured of a
welcome," he said. "And now, Miss Bawn, let me see you to the confines
of the wood, within sight of the Abbey. Out on the hills and plains it
is yet day, but in the woods night comes early, to give a chance perhaps
to the birds who have been awake since cock-crow."

I crept out of the glade as I had entered it and he followed me. When we
both stood upright in the wood-path we laughed together.

"I believe I knew the place of old," he said, "when I was a little
urchin. Sure there's no place like home, after all."

I had been wondering who he might be, and had fancied he was a visitor
at one of the houses of the neighbourhood, perhaps at the Ardaraghs',
but his speech showed me that he must belong to the county.

"My grandfather would like to thank you," I said, as we walked along the
wood-path, where I was glad of his company. Now that the shades closed
in, and with the postern gate open, how could I tell that Richard Dawson
might not lie in wait for me? He had thought me a peasant girl, the
wretch, and offered me money for my kisses. The wave of resentment and
disgust in my mind swelled to the full. This gentleman who walked beside
me had known me for a lady despite my print frock. I was furious for the
moment with Lady Ardaragh and the others who would admit such people as
the Dawsons to their drawing-rooms, and I was proud to think that
Aghadoe Abbey shut its doors against mere money. There were few things
we thought less of than money at Aghadoe.

"Lord St. Leger would like to thank you," I said. "Will you not come in
and see him?"

"Why, no," he answered, "although I am loth to say no to so gracious an
invitation. Believe me, I am not insensible of the graciousness that
prompts it. Ah, here we are in sight o