ing-room she found Mrs. Quirk still peering anxiously out
into the garden. The old lady did not hear the girl's entry, nor did she
know that Kathleen was present, until the latter went and touched her on
the shoulder; then she turned quickly.

"I had a dream, honey, a fearsome dream," she said, "that someone was
taking you away from me. Sure, I thought it was," she added, lowering
her voice to a whisper, "the devil! I could see him leading you down the
avenue there, and I awoke calling out to you in terror. When you did
not answer me I went to the window to peer out."

"No one shall take me away from you," said the girl. "I will stay with
you while you need me."

She led Mrs. Quirk back to her chair, and placed a cushion behind her.
Then she remained beside her, gently stroking the old lady's hand and
singing to her in a low voice. Thus did Denis Quirk find them when he
entered.

Little did he know how closely she had approached to destruction. Nor
was he aware that a man crouching behind the shrubs had viewed him with
the acute hatred of disappointment in his heart. Gerard had clenched his
fist in impotent rage, and cursed the man he regarded as an enemy. "I
will be even with you for this, Denis Quirk!" he had muttered to himself
as he went down the dark avenue, after waiting in the vain hope that
Kathleen might return to him.

Of all this Denis Quirk was ignorant. He had fancied he saw figures as
he came up the avenue, but even of this he was doubtful. Entering the
room, and seeing Kathleen occupied with his mother, his voice became
almost gentle as he said:

"Miss O'Connor, you are very nearly an angel."

Kathleen appreciated the kindness of his words and tone, but she did not
look up nor answer him. She had not yet recovered from the scene in the
garden; to speak at this moment might have proved too much for her.

Denis was, where women are concerned, quite ignorant and simple. Men he
understood, but the female mind was like a strange, unexplored
territory to him. He had a vast respect for women, a respect that
bordered on fear. To conceal this he made use of a brusquerie of speech
and manner that was merely a cloak to his real nervousness. Kathleen
O'Connor he regarded as an ideal of womanly perfection: he placed her on
a pedestal, and paid her his homage secretly. For her part, Kathleen was
beginning to realise that the rough exterior concealed a character
truthful, and not ungentle. Realising this, she h