e other a peep
of the Atlantic. Thither, ever since she could remember, she had
carried her dreams and her troubles; there, with the lake stretched
below her, and the house a mere Noah's ark to the eye, she had cooled
her hot brow or dried her tears, dwelt on past glories, or bashfully
thought upon the mysterious possibilities of that love, of that joint
life, of that rosy-hued future, to which the most innocent of maidens
must sometimes turn their minds.

It was perhaps because she often sought the tower at sunset, and he had
noted the fact, that Luke Asgill's steps bore him thither on an evening
three days after the Colonel's departure for Tralee. Asgill had
remained at Morristown, though the girl had not hidden her distaste for
his presence. But to all her remonstrances The McMurrough had replied,
with his usual churlishness, that the man was there on business--did
she want to recover her mare, or did she not? And she had found nothing
more to say. But the most slavish observance on the guest's part, and
some improvement in her brother's conduct--which she might have rightly
attributed to Asgill's presence--had not melted her. She, who had
scarcely masked her reluctance to receive a Protestant kinsman, was not
going to smile on a Protestant of Asgill's past and reputation; on a
man whose father had stood hat in hand before her grandfather, and
whose wealth had been wrung from the sweat of his fellow peasants.

Be that as it might, Asgill did not find her at the tower. But he was
patient; he thought that she might still come, and he waited, sitting
low, with his back against the ruined wall, that she might not see him
until it was too late for her to retreat. By-and-by he heard footsteps
mounting the path; his face reddened, and he made as if he would rise.
Remembering himself, however, he sat down again, with such a look in
his eyes as comes into a dog's when it expects to be beaten. But the
face that rose above the brow was not Flavia's, but her brother's. And
Asgill swore.

The McMurrough understood, grinned, and threw himself on the ground
beside him. "You'll be wishing me in the devil's bowl, I'm thinking,"
he said. "Yet, faith, I'm not so sure--if you're not a fool. For it's
certain I am, you'll never touch so much as the sole of her foot
without me."

"I'm not denying it," the other answered sulkily.

"So it's mighty little use your wishing me away!" The McMurrough
continued, stretching himself at his eas