th
impatience to be off across the crisp green waves.

Clodagh's first act on landing, at Carrigmore, had been to visit the
little ivy-covered post-office, in the hope that the Orristown letters
might possibly be intercepted. But the postman had already left the
village, and she had no choice but to wait patiently for Gore's first
letter until her return in the evening. But the postponement had not
been sufficient to damp her spirits; and she had started on her various
expeditions with a very light heart. Last of all, had come the visit to
Mrs. Asshlin, who now rarely left her room, but lay all day in the
semi-light made by drawn blinds, drinking numerous cups of strong tea
and keeping up a fitful murmur of complaint.

With senses that rebelled against the depressing atmosphere, Clodagh
had entered the bedroom and had sat for nearly an hour beside her
aunt's couch, listening with all the patience she could muster to the
oft-repeated tale of discontent and ill-health. Then at last, feeling
that duty could demand no more, she had risen and kissed Mrs. Asshlin's
worn cheek.

"We must have you over in London, Aunt Fan," she said cheerfully. "We
must take you to a really good doctor, and have you made quite well."

But Mrs. Asshlin had shaken her head dubiously.

"I never had faith in really good doctors since Molyneaux came down to
see your poor father."

To this, there seemed no possible response; so Clodagh had kissed her
aunt once more, and, with a promise that she would return the next day,
had slipped silently out of the gloomy room followed by Larry. Outside,
in the vivid daylight, the cousins had looked at each other
involuntarily.

"Sometimes life seems awful, Clo!" Asshlin had said, in a despondent
voice. And with a momentary shock, Clodagh had caught a gleam of the
restlessness, the brooding gloom, that used long ago to settle on the
face of her father.

"Why don't you leave Carrigmore, Larry?" she had said quickly. "It's a
wonderful place to rest in, but it's not the place for the whole of a
man's life."

Asshlin had made a descriptive gesture, indicating the house behind
him; then, with a sudden impulse of confidence, he had thrust his hand
into his pocket, and had drawn out six five-pound notes.

"When this represents the whole exchequer of the next three months,
there isn't much question of foreign travel--or fortune-seeking," he
had said. "Come along! The gale is freshening!"

And Clodagh had o