because they do not choose
to allow it."

"And this you think will be continued always?" asked Clayton.

"For all that I can see it may go on for ever. My father has had
those water gates mended on the meadows though he could ill afford
it. I have told him that they may go again to-morrow. There is no
reason to judge that they should not do so. The only two men,--or
the man, rather, and the boy,--who have been punished for the last
attempt were those who endeavoured to tell of it. See what has come
of that!"

"All that is true."

"Will it not be better to go to America, to go to Africa, to go to
Asia, or to Russia even, than to live in a country like this, where
the law can afford you no protection, and where the lawgivers only
injure you?"

"I know nothing about the lawgivers," said Clayton, "but I have to
say a word or two about the law. Do you think this kind of thing is
going to remain?"

"It does remain, and every day becomes worse."

"An evil will always become worse till it begins to die away. I think
I see the end of things approaching. Evil-doers are afraid of each
other, and these poor fellows here live in mortal agony lest some Lax
of the moment should be turned loose at their own throats. I don't
think that Lax is an institution that will remain for ever in the
country. This present Lax we have fast locked up. Law at present, at
any rate, has so much of power that it is able to lock up a
Lax,--when it can catch him. As for this present man, I do hope that
the law will find itself powerful enough to fasten a rope round his
neck. No Galway jury would find him guilty, and that is bad enough.
But the lawgivers have done this for us, that we may try him before a
Dublin jury, and there are hopes. When Lax has been well hung out of
the world I can turn round and take a moment for my own happiness."

Yorke Clayton, as he said this, was alluding to his love affair with
Edith Jones. He had now conquered all the family with one exception.
Even the father had assented that it should be so, though tardily
and with sundry misgivings. The one person was Edith herself, and it
had come to be acknowledged by all around her that she loved Yorke
Clayton. As she herself never now denied it, it was admitted on all
sides at Morony Castle that the Captain was certainly the favoured
lover. But Edith still held out, and had gone so far as to tell the
Captain that he could not be allowed to come to the Castle unless he
wou