L I E) R_A FLY 
 OF THE 
 U N I VLRS ITY 
 or 1 LLI N O I 5 
 
 823 
 H 5922o 
 
O'GKADY OF TEINITY 
 
O'GRADY OF TRINITY 
 
 A STORY OF 
 
 IRISH UNIVERSITY LIFE 
 
 BY 
 
 H. A. HINKSON 
 
 AUTHOR OF ''GOLDEN LADS AND GIRLS," ETC. 
 
 " A University is, according to the usual designation, 
 an Alma Mater, knowing her children one by one, not a 
 foundry or a mint, or a treadmill."— J. H. Newman. 
 
 LONDON 
 LAWRENCE AND BULLEN, Ltd. 
 
 16 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C. 
 1896 
 
LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. I ASSUME THE "TOGA VIRILIS " . . I 
 
 II. CONCERNING MY FOREBEARS, MYSELF, AND 
 
 MY PROSPECTS 8 
 
 III. OLD FRIENDS . . . . . . l6 
 
 IV. AND NEW FACES 27 
 
 V. THE GROVES OF ACADEME . . .38 
 
 VL MY FIRST TERM IN TRINITY ... 48 
 VII. GREEN PASTURES AND BLUE DEVILS . . 58 
 
 VIII. THE BALL AT ENNISKERRY . . - JO 
 
 IX. IZOD OF CHAPELIZOD . . . .83 
 
 X. A LONG PULL AND A STRONG PULL . . 97 
 
 XI. AN INTER- Varsity cricket match . .109 
 
 Xn. COLLEGE LADY DAY 1 25 
 
 xiiL love's young dream . . . -139 
 
 XIV. VILLAGE heroes 1 49 
 
 XV. "only, my love's away! " . . .159 
 
 XVL DILAPIDATIONS AND REPAIRS . . . 167 
 
 xvn. "oh, my love, my love is young!" . 177 
 
 vii 
 
Vlll CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XVIII. "a star was my desire" . . . 184 
 
 XIX. "hath the pearl less whiteness?" . 194 
 
 XX. jealousy, cruel as the grave . . 200 
 
 XXL "the lie was dead and damned" . 208 
 xxn. "choice of the heart's desire" . .217 
 
 xxm. "a short life in the saddle, lord" . 226 
 
 XXIV. "for lycidas is dead, dead ere his 
 
 prime" 234 
 
 XXV. "the world were not so bitter" . 242 
 
O'^RADT OF TRINITY 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 I ASSUME THE "TOGA VIRILIS " 
 
 " Take a cigar, Hubert," my uncle said as my aunt 
 left the dinner-table. 
 
 I had often before smoked my uncle's cherished 
 Larranagas both with and without his consent, but 
 never yet at his own express invitation. I felt that 
 something was about to happen, and that this cigar 
 would mark an epoch in my life. Besides, my 
 uncle had spoken in what I had learnt to call his 
 official voice. I must have betrayed something of 
 the surprise which I felt, for my uncle pushed the 
 cigar-box towards me and repeated his invitation. 
 Murmuring an acknowledgment, I selected a cigar, 
 cut it carefully, and lighted it. 
 
 " Jones," said my uncle again, addressing the man- 
 servant who waited on us, Master Hubert's glass 
 
 is empty. Fill it, and then you can leave us." 
 
 A 
 
2 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 Jones filled my glass to the brim from the 
 claret-jug, and then noiselessly left the room. 
 
 For a few minutes we both smoked in silence. 
 I saw that my uncle, who was by constitution 
 and training a man of few words, was preparing 
 to make some departure from his habitual brevity. 
 Although my pulse-throbs were becoming every 
 moment more rapid, I assumed an appearance of 
 being absorbed in the delicate process of ring- 
 making. Just as I had achieved two almost per- 
 fectly concentric circles of blue smoke, my uncle 
 cleared his throat with a preliminary cough of 
 deep significance. My rings lost their concen- 
 tricity and became merged in a white cloud. I 
 pushed my chair sideways and faced my uncle. 
 He knocked the ash off his cigar, sipped his 
 claret, and began. 
 
 " You will be nineteen in a few days, Hubert ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir, on Thursday next," I answered, my 
 natural preference for accuracy being supplemented 
 on the present occasion by the prospect of a new 
 fowling-piece as a birthday present. 
 
 " Precisely. Now that you have passed through 
 the stage of boyhood and entered on your man- 
 hood, it is right that you should at once acquire 
 sonic sense of the responsibility attaching to 
 
I ASSUME THE "TOGA VIRILIS " 3 
 
 this period — the most important period of your 
 life." 
 
 This was the longest coherent sentence my 
 uncle ha.d ever constructed. As I have said, he 
 was a man of few words, and usually expressed 
 himself, especially when angry, in terse Anglo- 
 Saxon. I bent my head, partly to indicate my 
 assent to the general truth of the statement, 
 partly to conceal a struggling smile at the re- 
 flection how much time and thought had been 
 expended on the preparation of this exordium. 
 
 "There is nothing," my uncle went on, with 
 impressive deliberateness, after allowing me a few 
 minutes to digest his first sentence, " which enables 
 one to realise his own manhood so quickly as the 
 society and converse of his equals, together with 
 a reasonable amount of independence. That I 
 intend to give you. I have therefore decided 
 that you shall go up to Trinity." 
 
 " When ? " I exclaimed, starting up, and in my 
 excitement forgetting altogether my prospective 
 birthday gift. 
 
 " At the beginning of Michaelmas term. I have 
 had a letter from Dr. Brooks this morning, in 
 which he recommends that you should not be 
 allowed to grow rusty and out of condition by 
 
4 o'grady of trinity 
 
 too long idleness. I agree with him. Your fur- 
 lough will therefore expire next month. Then you 
 must get into harness again." 
 
 " The sooner the better/' I cried, a vista of 
 delightful possibilities opening out before my 
 mind's eye. "Bobs is going up next term too. 
 What did old Brookie say in his letter?" 
 
 " He mentions a number of prizes and exhibi- 
 tions which he says you ought to win if you are 
 industrious. Here is the letter; you can read it 
 at your leisure." 
 
 I took the letter and glanced at it. 
 
 "Old Brookie seems to have put down here 
 every prize in the University," I remarked grimly, 
 thinking that my life at Trinity would not by 
 any means be conleur de rose if I attempted to 
 win even a small portion of the prizes enume- 
 rated. 
 
 " Well, he is better qualified than I to advise 
 you in these matters," my uncle rejoined, "and 
 your father's son ought not to be satisfied to be 
 a mere passman. But for the present we need 
 not discuss this question. I intend to allow you 
 while at Trinity two hundred and fifty pounds a 
 year. Besides, I'll pay your foes, but you nmst 
 pay your own fines. In my time it Avas possible 
 
I ASSUME THE "TOGA VIRILIS " 5 
 
 to live very comfortably on that allowance unless 
 you were extravagant." 
 
 " Thanks, uncle. I shall be able to do very 
 well on that," I murmured. 
 
 "I don't think you'll find many students in 
 Trinity with a more liberal allowance," my uncle 
 remarked dryly. " I am told that since the Land 
 League days one half of them lives by grind- 
 ing the other half. Now, will you promise to 
 remember a few words of advice from one who 
 has had the experience which yet lies before 
 you ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I will," I answered fervently. 
 
 " Don't drink too much," my uncle said, filling 
 his glass and pushing the wine towards me. 
 "Many a damned young ass thinks it a fine and 
 heroic thing to get drunk, but it isn't. At the 
 best it leads to a headache in the morning, and 
 at the worst — well, at the worst it leads to some- 
 thing very much worse. If you do get drunk, 
 go to bed as quietly as you can. Most of the 
 Irish chaps in my regiment when they came back 
 to barracks drunk generally got cells for wanting 
 to fight the sentry; the English and Scotch, no 
 matter how drunk they were, managed to get to 
 their bunks quietly and without notice." 
 
6 
 
 o'gkady of trinity 
 
 I assured my uncle that on the first premonitory 
 symptom of intoxication I would instantly make 
 for my bed. 
 
 " Don't acquire the habit of swearing or of using 
 profane language. It's devilish hard to get rid 
 of once you do acquire it. Of course some ex- 
 pletives are not as offensive as others, and have, 
 as it were, been sanctioned by usage. For in- 
 stance, damn is a word used in the very best 
 society, and I have frequently heard it in the 
 Kildare Street Club, as well as at the ' University.' 
 In fact, I believe I have occasionally used it 
 myself." 
 
 I could have reassured my uncle on this point, 
 but I contented myself with promising to confine 
 myself to a limited use of the word, and to abstain 
 as far as possible from indulging in unrecognised 
 forms of speech. My uncle yawned. I saw that 
 he was almost exhausted by the unwonted role 
 of mentor. 
 
 " One thing more, Hubert," he continued, throw- 
 ing the end of his cigar away : " always keep your 
 temper. If any one insults you " 
 
 '' What shall I do?" I asked. 
 
 " What shall you do ! Why, damn it, man, 
 knock him down," my mentor exclaimed warmly. 
 
I ASSUME THE " TOGA VIRILIS " 7 
 
 starting from his chair and glaring at irie, 
 "hit the beggar before he can apologise. Apo- 
 logies are always more satisfactory after punish- 
 ment." 
 
 " Yes, uncle," I answered meekly. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 CONCERNING MY FOREBEARS, MYSELF, AND MY 
 PROSPECTS 
 
 I HAVE no recollection of my mother, who died 
 when I was still an infant. My father I remember 
 vaguely as a tall man dressed in black, with a 
 handsome delicate face and large sorrowful eyes. 
 He was the senior curate of a populous Dublin 
 parish, and, as I afterwards learnt in Trinity, had 
 been the most distinguished Scholar of his year. 
 When the smallpox plague broke out in Dublin, his 
 parish suffered most heavily. Early and late my 
 father and his old College chum, Dr. Sullivan, went 
 together round the sick-sheds, each in his own way 
 bearing comfort. My father himself contracted the 
 disease and died. Dr. Sullivan escaped, and his 
 son was afterwards a very good friend of mine. 
 
 A little while before his brother's death, my 
 Uncle Walter had retired from the army with the 
 honorary title of colonel, and had settled down to 
 the soincwhat monotonous life of a country gentle- 
 
MY FOREBEARS, MYSELF, AND PROSPECTS 9 
 
 man on his property in the county of Meath. 
 Thither I was taken from the gloomy Dublin 
 house where my father had died. 
 
 Derryrone House, where many generations of 
 O'Gradys of varying fortunes had dwelt, was about 
 two miles from the town of Ballycory. It was an 
 old-fashioned square building, without any archi- 
 tectural pretensions save those that made for roomi- 
 ness and comfort. Ugly it might be in spite of 
 gfeen or copper-coloured foliage which covered it, 
 but to me no palace has ever seemed so beautiful. 
 The O'Gradys numbered many spendthrifts among 
 them; as indeed what Irish county family does 
 not? But whether or not it was due to the ad- 
 mixture of Saxon blood as well as the addition of 
 Saxon money — for my grandfather had married a 
 pretty considerable heiress — the last two or three 
 generations had shown no great desire to squander 
 their patrimony. The result was that my uncle's 
 estate, although not large, was still comfortable. 
 
 Colonel O'Grady had been one of the hand- 
 somest, as he certainly was one of the best dressed, 
 men in the 8th Hussars. 
 
 " No gentleman," he used to say, " can afford to 
 despise his tailor ; and the better his figure is, the 
 better his tailor ought to be." And though his 
 
lo o'gkady of trinity 
 
 moustache was white and his hair growing thin, he 
 was as particular as any young subaltern that his 
 clothes should fit him like a glove. 
 
 Shortly after his brother's death my uncle mar- 
 ried a gentle spinster lady of sober and domestic 
 tastes. It was a strange marriage for a fine gentle- 
 man like Colonel O'Grady, but it turned out well. 
 In return for her almost idolatrous devotion, my 
 uncle gave her a half-tolerant affection. I do not 
 remember how I came to learn the secret of my 
 uncle's life, but it seems to me now that I must 
 have discovered it gradually and almost uncon- 
 sciously. 
 
 Over the mantelpiece of my uncle's sanctum, 
 which he called his study, hung a small portrait 
 in oils of a very beautiful girl just budding into 
 womanhood. It was the only portrait in the room. 
 On the walls were suspended hunting-crops, spurs, 
 fishing-rods, and walking-sticks, together with his 
 cavalry sabre and pistols. 
 
 The colonel used to sit there after dinner and 
 drink his coffee and cognac, and smoke, while my 
 aunt plied her knitting-needles. Thither I was 
 taken every evening before going to bed to say 
 good-night. Sometimes my uncle would snatch 
 me up in his arms and kiss me with a passionate- 
 
MY FOREBEAKS, MYSELF, AND PROSPECTS I I 
 
 ness which almost frightened me, and then, setting 
 me down again suddenly, would say in a voice 
 which struggled to be stern, " Now then, boy, right 
 about, march." 
 
 My aunt would sigh and kiss me with tears in 
 her eyes, and I would depart with a mind puzzled 
 and troubled over I knew not what. 
 
 It may have been the sigh which always broke 
 involuntarily from my aunt's breast on such occa- 
 sions that gave me the clue ; but while still a 
 child I knew that my uncle had loved my mother, 
 and that my aunt was not ignorant of it. 
 
 But Colonel O'Grady was too much of a soldier 
 to show emotion except on very rare occasions, and 
 he generally treated me with a kind of martial 
 severity. When he gave an order he meant it to 
 be obeyed, and he had seldom to repeat his com- 
 mands. He taught me boxing and single-sticks 
 before I was twelve years old; and although I 
 knew he was fond of me, I often wondered why 
 my sides ached so after a bout with him. 
 
 Many times I had difficulty to keep back the 
 tears of pain which rushed to my eyes when he 
 broke my guard and administered a sounding 
 thwack on my side. But I knew that the pain 
 which I felt would be nothing to his mortification 
 
12 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 if I showed what he called the white feather. His 
 arm was strong, as was also his sense of humour, 
 and to the quality of both more than I could bear 
 witness. 
 
 One of his stable-boys had got into the habit of 
 coming home late with a somewhat clouded under- 
 standing and uncertain steps. My uncle resolved 
 to cure him of this bad habit. One night he 
 lay in wait for him with a heavy hunting-crop. 
 Happily unconscious of the fate in store for him, 
 the peccant Larry tottered up the avenue, trolling 
 in a quavering voice — 
 
 " An oiild maid is like an ould almanac, 
 Quite useless wlien wance out o' date ; 
 And when she don't sell in the mornin', 
 By evenin' she'll fall to low rate." 
 
 Colonel O'Grady suddenly seized him by the 
 collar and belaboured him soundly. Then, when 
 he was tired, he pretended for the first time to 
 recognise his servant. 
 
 " Hello, Larry ! " he exclaimed, as he panted 
 with exertion and suppressed laughter, " is it you ? 
 Why, damn it, man, I thought you were a thief 
 coming after my harness." 
 
 " Yes, it's me, worse luck," groaned Larry ; " an' 
 what's more, sir, you knovved it was." 
 
MY FOREBEAKS, MYSELF, AND PROSPECTS 1 3 
 
 The fame of this incident spread far and wide, 
 and for the next year the hapless Larry was made 
 the subject of ironical inquiries as to the state of 
 his health. 
 
 He was effectually cured, however, and for the 
 future came home silent and sober. 
 
 Until I was fourteen my education was en- 
 trusted to one of that unhappy class ironically 
 called governesses. All I can remember of this 
 lady's instruction consists of certain geographical 
 inaccuracies of no importance whatsoever, and a 
 number of Latin words arbitrarily pronoimced. 
 These latter I remembered best, and I was at much 
 pains to rid myself of the habit of making false 
 quantities long after I had forgotten everything 
 else she had taught me. I do not suppose I was 
 much more idle or more rowdy than ordinary 
 boys; but I feel certain that I shortened Miss 
 Warner's life by a good half-dozen years in return 
 for the limited information she was qualified to 
 give me. 
 
 My uncle at length announced his intention of 
 sending me to a boarding-school, and offered Miss 
 Warner the mistress-ship of the parish school as 
 a recompense for the trouble she had expended 
 on me in vain. This offer Miss Warner gladly 
 
14 o'geady of trinity 
 
 accepted, and it struck me at the time as being 
 somewhat remarkable that she should with so 
 much alacrity undertake the charge of some twenty 
 lusty young vagabonds when she had found one so 
 troublesome. 
 
 Certainly she resigned her duties as my instruc- 
 tress without any appearance of regret, and even 
 watched the conflagration which I made of my 
 lesson-books with something very like sympathy. 
 
 So, with a new outfit and a new cricket bat, to- 
 gether with " tuck " enough to ruin everlastingly 
 any but a boy's or a dog's digestion, I set out for 
 the Grammar School of Galway. 
 
 In the stately but melancholy "Citie of the 
 Tribes " I spent nearly five years of happy life. My 
 uncle was more anxious that I should excel in 
 athletics, which he said were good for mind as well 
 as body, than that I should head my form in 
 scholarship, and I agreed with him. However, 
 though in my last year I came near the top of the 
 batting averages, and had for two seasons played 
 creditably as three-quarter back, old Brookie had 
 no cause to be dissatisfied with my intellectual 
 progress. I carried away with me from Galway, 
 besides many happy memories, no inconsiderable 
 taste in Latin verse-making, and could turn out a 
 
MY FOREBEARS, MYSELF, AND PROSPECTS T 5 
 
 dozen or so very tolerable Greek iambics in less 
 tlian an hour. So that on the whole, although I 
 was not likely to distinguish myself to the extent 
 my old master suggested, yet I was fairly well 
 equipped for a University career. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 OLD FRIENDS 
 
 It was a bright October morning, with a touch of 
 frost in the air, when my uncle and I started for 
 Ballycory to take the train for Dubhn. The brown 
 and golden leaves came floating down with every 
 wind, and already the road was covered deep with 
 the rotting foliage which had a little while before 
 been the glory of the summer. 
 
 A kind of half melancholy oppressed me as I sat 
 beside my uncle in silence. Proud as I felt of the 
 responsibility which I was about to assume, there 
 was no little sadness in the reflection that this day 
 marked the limit of my boyhood. The first stage 
 of my life was gone irrevocably. I had but two 
 stages left — youth and age ; for at nineteen one 
 knows not the euphemistic compromise termed 
 middle-age, that melancholy half-way house, as we 
 would fain believe it, which lies, in truth, three 
 parts of the journey to the end. 
 
 In spite of the sun and the keen, bracing air, I 
 
OLD FRIENDS 1/ 
 
 was conscious of a feeling of desire that the hopes 
 of spring, and not the memories of autumn, should 
 see me set forth and speed me on my way. I was 
 not nervous, but somehow this morning all the 
 superstitions which I had heard in my childhood 
 from the peasants thronged my brain. Had I 
 been asked, Did I believe in them ? I should have 
 denied it indignantly ; but for all that, they hung 
 about me the more tenaciously for their intangi- 
 bility. A single magpie rose on our right and flew 
 across the road — a bad omen of my journey. A 
 few minutes later a second fortunately relieved my 
 mind of the anxiety caused by the first. 
 
 My uncle, too, was more than usually silent. 
 
 We drove out from under the falling leaves on 
 to the high-road, which lay across the bog, and a 
 mile or so farther on we drew up at the little 
 country junction. At the sight of the railway 
 station and its subdued air of important activity, 
 all my melancholy disappeared, and I became full 
 of delighted enthusiasm for my new life. We had 
 still some ten minutes to wait for our train, even 
 without allowing for the traditional unpunctuality 
 of a people who are wont to sacrifice time to other 
 considerationsf 
 
 I walked over to the bookstall, and with the 
 
 B 
 
1 8 o'grady of trinity 
 
 careless air which I considered appropriate for a 
 University man who knew "something of the 
 world," I began to examine its contents. 
 
 "Is there anything I can do for you, Mister 
 O'Grady ? " the stall-keeper asked. 
 
 My face flushed with pleasure. MuUins had 
 always called me Master Hubert; now I was Mr. 
 O'Grady. Already I felt the importance of being 
 a Trinity man. 
 
 "No, MuUins, I don't think so," I replied with 
 dignity. 
 
 " Well, now, maybe you'd have a look at these," 
 pushing a number of " yellow-backs " towards me ; 
 " they've just come from Dublin." 
 
 " I'm afraid I shan't have much time for books 
 like them at Trinity, MuUins. I'll have other 
 books to read." 
 
 " Ah, yes ! I suppose ye'U be reading 'rithmetic 
 books and the Ailments, and maybe a bit of Latin. 
 Young Mick Doolin is just home from Maynooth. 
 They're going to priest him, ye know, sir ; an' they 
 tell me he's a terrible fine scholard, and knows the 
 Comminations o' Csesar, and the Aliad o' Virgil, as 
 well as the Lives o' the Saints by heart." 
 
 I was not too well pleased at the comparison 
 between myself and Mr. Doolin. 
 
OLD FRIENDS 1 9 
 
 "He must be a great genius, MuUins," I said 
 with ironical emphasis. 
 
 " Troth he is, an' the country ought to be proud 
 of him, that's what I say. But shure," he went on, 
 in evident fear lest he should have disheartened 
 me, " maybe it's yerself '11 be doin' the same wan 
 day." 
 
 I saw my uncle's well-waxed moustaches curl in 
 a humorous smile. The absurdity of my position 
 broke on me, and I burst out laughing. 
 
 "I hope I shall, MuUins; though it would be 
 hard to rival Mr. Doolin, judging from what you 
 say." 
 
 "Ay, that's true enough," MuUins admitted, as 
 if he were acknowledging a fact of which there 
 could be no dispute ; " but then ye see, sir, 
 he's goin' for a priest, an' that makes all the 
 differ." 
 
 I admitted that it did. 
 
 "Come along, Hubert," my uncle cried out, 
 " here is our train. To do honour to you, it's only 
 ten minutes late." 
 
 We got into a first-class smoking compartment. 
 My uncle lit a cigar and buried himself in his 
 newspaper. I felt somewhat ashamed of my part 
 of the interview with MuUins, and my embarrass- 
 
20 o'grady of trinity 
 
 ment was not lessened by the amusement it had 
 occasioned to Colonel O'Grady. 
 
 In little more than an hour we reached Dublin, 
 and rattled along on an outside car to the Shel- 
 boume Hotel, where rooms had been taken for us. 
 
 " We'll have lunch here, Hubert," my uncle said, 
 when we arrived at the hotel, " and then I'll take 
 you down to Trinity, and introduce you to Dr. 
 Moore, who has promised to be your Tutor. He 
 was my chum in College, and though he'll probably 
 forget your face to-morrow, he'll always remember 
 your name. I wrote to him to say we should be 
 at his rooms in Trinity at two o'clock." 
 
 After lunch, which, in honour of the event, in- 
 cluded a bottle of champagne, we left the hotel, and 
 went in search of my future Tutor. When we had 
 turned the corner into Dawson Street, and came in 
 sight of the glorious old trees of the College Park, 
 my bosom swelled with an emotion of pride such 
 as I had never felt before, at the thought that in 
 another day I too should be an alumnus of " Old 
 Trinity," as her sons affectionately call her. 
 
 Already I fancied myself, arrayed in cap and 
 gown, traversing the old quadrangles and treading 
 in the hallowed footsteps of Swift, of Berkeley, of 
 Congreve, and of many another who had greeted 
 
OLD FRIENDS 
 
 21 
 
 " the College of the Sacred and Undivided Trinity " 
 with no more hope than I. Whose mantle, I 
 wondered, would fall on my shoulders ? 
 
 My uncle's voice interrupted my speculations as 
 to my future fame. 
 
 " Here we are at Trinity, Hubert. I hope you 
 will find your second entrance as easy as your 
 first is." 
 
 We passed in between the statues of Burke and 
 Goldsmith, and entered the vestibule of the College. 
 On the left of the vestibule was a long narrow 
 room with benches round the walls, and closed by 
 a half door. A bright fire was burning at the end, 
 and at a high desk sat a venerable-looking old 
 man with an aristocratic face. He was clad in a 
 dark blue livery, with gilt buttons bearing the 
 College arms, and on his white head he Avore a 
 curiously shaped black velvet cap something like 
 a jockey's. He peered over his desk through his 
 gold-rimmed spectacles at us as if seeking to 
 identify his visitors. 
 
 " How are you, Selwyn ? " my uncle said, as he 
 shook hands with the dignified custodian of the 
 gate. 
 
 " Ah, Colonel O'Grady," the latter replied, " is it 
 really yourself ? And I hope I see you well, sir." 
 
22 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 "Very well, Selwjm, thank you. This is my 
 nephew. He is going to enter to-morrow." 
 
 " I am glad to see you, sir," the old gentleman 
 said to me ; and then addressing my uncle again, 
 " Why then, colonel, it seems only just yesterday 
 that you were a jib yourself. They come and go 
 so fast, one after another, that I lose count of time. 
 I could well-nigh imagine that it was only last 
 week when I met you going into the examination 
 hall with a cricket-cap instead of a ' mortar-board ' 
 on your head. You'll have forgotten that maybe, 
 sir?" 
 
 "No, indeed I haven't," my uncle answered, 
 laughing. " You said I'd have been ' recommended 
 for honours ' if you hadn't caught me in time. But 
 do you remember the time I repaid you a loan 
 of half-a-crown ? You looked at it for several 
 minutes, and when I asked you why — have you 
 forgotten your reply ? " 
 
 " No, colonel, I'm afraid I don't remember," the 
 old fellow answered, with a smile that made me 
 doubt him. 
 
 " Well, you said you were thinking how little it 
 had grown while I had it," Colonel O'Grady an- 
 swered, with a laugh, in which I joined. 
 
 " Ah yes, sir, I remember it well, and how you 
 
OLD FRIENDS 23 
 
 pulled out another half-crown and gave it me. 
 Well, well, many and many a change there's been 
 since then, and not for the better, I'm thinking. 
 But it's glad I am to see one of your family in 
 old Trinity again." 
 
 "Yes. I hope my nephew will be a credit to 
 the old place." 
 
 " May I ask, sir, who's to be his Tutor ? " 
 
 'My old chum. Dr. Moore. Do you remember 
 we lived in Botany Bay together ? " 
 
 "Ay, I remember it well, and the night Dr. 
 Moore gave his Scholarship spree. I was on duty 
 that night. Oh, that was a spree ! " the old fellow 
 went on, chuckling at the recollection. " I doubt 
 there's any such sprees nowadays. Ferguson — 
 he's been dead this many a year — was night watch- 
 man. Well, young Mr. Moore had him up, and 
 said he should either make a speech or drink a 
 tumbler of whisky neat. Well, sir, if you re- 
 member, Ferguson was a Scotchman and not much 
 good at oratory; but he could drink as much 
 whisky as any man living, so he drank the whisky 
 and many another glass the same night. But as 
 ill luck would have it, sir — but sure you were 
 there yourself, colonel, and know all about it as 
 well as I do." 
 
24 o'grady of trinity 
 
 "No, I don't remember it; please tell me the 
 rest, Selwyn," my uncle replied, being evidently 
 much interested and amused at the old fellow's 
 garrulous reminiscences. 
 
 " Well, as I was saying,, the Bishop of Kathdown 
 — he was then plain Mr. Magee — got very excited, 
 said he was an angel and could fly, and before any 
 one could stop him he had jumped out of the 
 window on the second floor. Well, there was a 
 terrible commotion, and every one as was sober 
 enough went all over the College looking for a 
 doctor, for they thought the bishop was killed. 
 Well, they found a medical student at a spree in 
 Rotten Row, and by the time they had induced 
 him to come, for he was listening to a song and 
 didn't want to leave till it was over, Ferguson had 
 fetched the Dean, old Dr. Leslie, you remember, 
 colonel, and tried to explain what had happened ; 
 but in his excitement Ferguson spoke in Scotch, 
 and not a word could the Dean understand, and 
 he thought Ferguson was drunk. 
 
 "Well, when they came up, they found the 
 bishop lying on his face as quiet as you like, with, 
 not a stir out of him. Well, Dr. Maguire — he's 
 the great doctor in Merrion Square, you know, 
 colonel — was examining him as well as he could. 
 
OLD FRIENDS 2$ 
 
 for he wasn't very steady on his own feet. So 
 he began to feel if his heart was still beating, 
 and where do you think he went feeling for his 
 heart but at the base of his spine, for the bishop 
 was l3dng on his face. 
 
 "When the Dean saw this he was very angry. 
 Dr. Leslie was a very hot-tempered man, you 
 remember, sir — and he swore — a thing he didn't 
 make a habit of, but he was very angry — he 
 swore out loud and said, ' Students drunk, doctor 
 drunk, porters drunk, every one drunk — I believe 
 I'm drunk myself Well, I helped to carry the 
 bishop to his bed, and he was as well as ever next 
 day. But Dr. Moore was near losing his Scholar- 
 ship, and sure it was yourself, colonel, that was 
 going to be rusticated, and here am I telling you 
 all about it as if you didn't know it better than T 
 all along." 
 
 My uncle and I burst out laughing. 
 
 " I had forgotten all about it until now, Sehvyn," 
 Colonel O'Grady replied. "But I am looking for 
 Dr. Moore now. Can you tell me his rooms ? He 
 doesn't live in Botany Bay now ? " 
 
 "No, sir; he hves on the ground-floor of No. 9 
 Parhament Square, just beside the chapel. I'll 
 show you his rooms." 
 
26 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 The old fellow toddled out to the end of the 
 vestibule, and pointed out the house where Dr. 
 Moore lived. A brass plate on the door showed 
 Dr. Moore's name. My uncle knocked, and in a 
 moment we were admitted. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 AND NEW FACES 
 
 Dr. Moore was sitting at a table which was covered 
 with books, manuscripts, proofs, examination papers, 
 and I know not what besides. The general effect 
 was an admirable representation of confusion and 
 disorder. 
 
 The walls of the large square room were almost 
 concealed by books from floor to ceiling ; and even 
 the windows were piled high with volumes to the 
 exclusion of much of what light could penetrate 
 the dim, dirt-begrimed panes. 
 
 My future Tutor was a small man, with a round 
 
 clean-shaven face, and a bald bullet-shaped head. 
 
 As we entered the room, he rose from the table 
 
 and came limping forward to meet us, for he was 
 
 slightly lame in his left leg; and addressing my 
 
 uncle, who had just recovered his equihbrium after 
 
 stumbling over a heap of books on the floor, he 
 
 said, in a jerky, indistinct voice — 
 
 27 
 
28 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 " Well, Walter, how are you ? So you've brought 
 your son up for the entrance ? " 
 
 " No, Tom, not my son, but my nephew,'' Colonel 
 O'Grady explained. 
 
 " Ah, true, Walter," the doctor replied, giving an 
 inanimate hand to me to shake, and then withdraw- 
 ing it as rapidly as if my hand were a mouse-trap. 
 
 " And you will enter to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," I replied modestly, " if I can pass the 
 exam." 
 
 " What time has he to eat his breakfast, Tom ? " 
 my uncle asked ; " I have forgotten." 
 
 " His breakfast ! " Dr. Moore repeated. " The 
 usual time, I suppose." 
 
 This information did not help us much. 
 
 " But what is the usual time ? " my uncle asked 
 again. 
 
 " Why, how the deuce should I know what time 
 the lad eats his breakfast ? " Dr. Moore exclaimed 
 in an injured tone. 
 
 Colonel O'Grady burst out laughing. 
 
 " Look here, Tom," he said, " you are as incor- 
 rigible as ever. I want to know at what hour 
 the entrance breakfast begins. I don't remember ; 
 and as Hubert has never yet been to one, naturally 
 he does not know cither." 
 
AND NEW FACES 29 
 
 ''Ah, the entrance breakfast/' the doctor re- 
 peated thoughtfully, "to be sure. It used to be 
 at eight or nine or ten o'clock. I really don't 
 remember which. I shouldn't wonder if it was 
 at nine." 
 
 My uncle laughed. 
 
 " Never mind, Tom, we'll find out from Selwyn." 
 
 " Yes, you can find out from Selwyn. And look 
 here, O'Grady, call in for me on your way to the 
 hall. I shall have to come with you, you know. 
 I wonder if I have any more pupils to take in ? 
 I ought to have a list of them somewhere," and 
 he looked despairingly at the chaotic confusion 
 of the table. "But it doesn't much matter; if 
 they haven't intelligence enough to know what 
 to do, they'd be sure to fail in the entrance 
 examination." 
 
 I was wondering how, if that were so, my Tutor 
 had ever passed an examination, when there came 
 a smart knock at the door, followed immediately 
 by the entrance of a youth in flannels and a 
 blazer. 
 
 He had a handsome fair face, with thick wavy 
 brown hair curling low down on his forehead, 
 and blue eyes which seemed to change every 
 moment from dark to light and again from light 
 
30 o'grady of trinity 
 
 to dark. He looked about twenty years of age; 
 but his easy, confident manner seemed hardly con- 
 sistent with such limited experience. He paused 
 on the threshold. 
 
 " So sorry, doctor, to interrupt you. Didn't 
 know you were engaged. I'll look in later; but 
 I must see you to-day, doctor," he said as easily 
 as if he were the don and Dr. Moore the under- 
 graduate, instead of the relations being reversed. 
 
 " What's the matter now, Daly ? Have you been 
 getting into trouble again? If you have, I tell 
 you it's no use coming to me. It was only yester- 
 day that the Dean told me he didn't believe a 
 word you said, and he impUed that he didn't 
 believe me either." 
 
 "You don't mean to say, doctor, that he said 
 that to you ? " Mr. Daly exclaimed, in a tone meant 
 to convey horror, together with a judicious blend of 
 incredulity. " To you, sir ? " he repeated ; " surely 
 not. You must be mistaken." 
 
 "No, I am not, Daly. It's very annoying. I 
 feel quite angry about it." 
 
 " I'm dreadfully angry myself, sir," this irre- 
 pressible undergraduate answered, with an appear- 
 ance of such deep concern that I found it difficult 
 to restrain my laughter. "I can't tell you how 
 
AND NEW FACES 3 1 
 
 angry I am that he should have insulted you, 
 and that I should, even in an indirect way, be 
 responsible for it. But he insults me every time 
 he meets me. Why, sir, it was only yesterday 
 that he said to me that I had done more harm 
 by my bad influence than any one within his long 
 experience, and that, too, although I was a Scholar 
 of the House. I have a great deal to bear from 
 him," Mr. Daly continued, with an aggrieved 
 air. 
 
 "Yes, yes; the Dean is sometimes a little un- 
 just,'' Dr. Moore admitted — "yes, sometimes very 
 unjust. But tell me what you want with me 
 now.'' 
 
 "Well, sir, I've discovered that the Dean has 
 been fining me for the last six weeks of last term 
 for not keeping Chapels ; and he threatens to in- 
 crease the fines in future, and bring the matter 
 under the notice of the Provost, with a view to 
 having me ' sent down.' " 
 
 " But why didn't you keep Chapels, Daly ? " Dr. 
 Moore asked, with some show of irritation. 
 
 Mr. Daly looked at his Tutor reproachfully. 
 
 " I have kept Chapels, sir, with the most scrupu- 
 lous regularity." 
 
 " Then why can't you tell the Dean that 
 
32 o'gkady of trinity 
 
 you have ? What have I to do with your 
 Chapels?" 
 
 " There's no use in my teUing him, sir ; he 
 doesn't beHeve a word I say." 
 
 "What can I do, then?" the doctor asked, in 
 much perplexity. 
 
 " If you assure him that you know I have never 
 missed a Chapel for the last six weeks of the term, 
 he might perhaps " 
 
 " Yes ; but I don't know whether you have or not. 
 Were you at Chapel the last Sunday of the term ? " 
 
 " You know I was, sir," Mr. Daly replied. " Don't 
 you remember meeting me just as I came out, and 
 saying ' good-morning ' to me ? " 
 
 "I can't have seen you then, Daly," Dr. Moore 
 objected. I was absent from College all the latter 
 part of the term through ill-health." 
 
 His pupil betrayed no embarrassment at this 
 unexpected difficulty. 
 
 " It's well I know, sir, that you were ill. Didn't 
 I come to your rooms every day to ask your skip 
 how you were ? Why, it's only yesterday we were 
 saying what a grand funeral — ahem, I mean ova- 
 tion you'd have got if — if — you'd been long ill. 
 But it was some Sunday at the beginning of term. 
 Don't you remember I told you next day that 
 
AND NEW FACES 33 
 
 although I was at Chapel and gave my name in, 
 the Dean would probably say I hadn't ? " 
 
 " Well, well, you want me to tell the Dean that 
 you have attended Chapel every Sunday for the 
 last Sundays of Trinity term. Is that it?" the 
 doctor asked, with a sigh of weariness. 
 
 " Yes, sir, that's it." 
 
 Dr. Moore made a note of this more or less 
 reliable fact on a slip of paper. 
 " Is that all now, Daly ? " 
 
 "Well, I've got some Latin Sapphics to show 
 you; but perhaps you'd rather not look at them 
 now. I'm anxious for your opinion of them." 
 
 The doctor's face brightened. 
 
 "Yes, yes, I'll look at them," he exclaimed, 
 taking the paper from his pupil's hand with an 
 eagerness which contrasted strongly with his 
 former air of weariness. He gazed at the lines 
 critically, repeating them softly to himself. 
 
 "Ha, ha, very happy! Very good indeed. 
 Good-bye, Daly." 
 
 " There's just one thing more, sir, and I'm sorry 
 to trouble you about it. The fact is, I want to 
 enter a caveat!' 
 
 " A what ? " the doctor asked, his face cloudinsr 
 again. 
 
 c 
 
34 o'geady of trinity 
 
 f A caveat Last night at Commons, some one 
 threw a piece of bread at Newton — the iighest 
 man on Commons, you know, sir — and it hit him in 
 the eye and broke his glasses. I was just saying 
 how ungentlemanly I thought bread-throwing to 
 be, when Mr. O'SuUivan sent down Coulson to say 
 he had fined me ten shiUings for throwing bread. 
 Would you mind saying to Mr. O'SuUivan that I 
 hate bread-throwing and I'm very much cut up at 
 being accused of it, and that I don't mind the 
 fine a bit; that, in fact, it's my feelings that are 
 hurt. If you make that clear to him he may let 
 me off." 
 
 "But why don't you tell Mr. O'SuUivan that 
 yourself, Daly?" Dr. Moore asked. 
 
 "Well, you see, sir," Daly replied in a con- 
 fidential tone, " Mr. O'SuUivan comes from Galway 
 Uke myself, and if I told him he'd think I wanted 
 to get out of paying the ten shillings; and you 
 know, sir, in Galway they'd think that sort of 
 thing mean." 
 
 " What sort of thing mean ? " 
 
 "Caring about a matter of ten shillings. You 
 have no idea how much they despise paying 
 money in Galway. Mr. O'SuUivan would never 
 
AND NEW FACES 35 
 
 forgive me for disgracing my native county. He's 
 awfully proud of Galway." 
 
 "Very well, Daly, I'll speak to Mr. O'SuUivan 
 about it," and Dr. Moore made another note on 
 paper. ' 
 
 Colonel O'Grady had looked on with a grim 
 smile while this interview between Tutor and 
 pupil had been taking place. When the doctor 
 was making his last note, he whispered some- 
 thing in his ear. 
 
 "Yes, of course," Dr. Moore replied. "Daly, 
 would you mind showing Mr. O'Grady some- 
 thing of the place ? He intends entering to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "With much pleasure, sir," Mr. Daly answered, 
 bowing to me. " Come along, Mr. O'Grady. I'll 
 show you the College, or," he added in a lower 
 tone, " a part of it." 
 
 As we left the room I heard Dr. Moore say, 
 "Excellent fellow, fine scholar, dreadfully mis- 
 understood." 
 
 We went down the stairs together and out into 
 the quadrangle. 
 
 "That's the chapel," my new acquaintance ex- 
 plained, as we passed a gloomy-looking building 
 with a heavy portico; "but as you're going to 
 
36 o'grady of trinity 
 
 enter you'll soon know more about it perhaps 
 than you'll want to know. A chapel is an ex- 
 pensive luxury. Do you play nap, Mr. O'Grady ? " 
 
 "Yes," I answered, somewhat surprised at the 
 question. 
 
 " Good ! Will you come and take a hand at my 
 rooms ? " 
 
 I accepted the invitation readily enough. We 
 entered a melancholy-looking quadrangle on our 
 left. "This," said Mr. Daly, "is Botany Bay, the 
 liveliest quad in Trinity. It doesn't seem very 
 cheerful now, but it looks its best at night, 
 especially at the end of term. These are my 
 rooms." 
 
 At a small table in front of the fire four youths 
 were seated playing cards. They greeted the re- 
 turn of their host with ironical cheers, to which 
 he bowed with mock solemnity. Then, when the 
 tumult had subsided, he presented me as one who 
 had ably seconded his efforts to defeat the evil 
 machinations of the College authorities. His de- 
 scription of the interview with his Tutor was 
 received with shouts of delight; and from this 
 and the fire of comments which punctuated the 
 narrative, I gathered that Mr. Daly had never 
 been once in Chapel during the previous term^ 
 
AND NEW FACES 37 
 
 and that so far from regarding bread-throwing as 
 an ungentlemanly practice, he was considered the 
 best shot in the hall. 
 
 I took a seat at the card-table, and thus began 
 my life in Trinity. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE GROVES OF ACADEME 
 
 My determination to be in time for the entrance 
 breakfest, and the thought of the evil consequences 
 that might result if I were late, caused me so 
 much disquiet, that it was only a few minutes past 
 eight by the clock when I reached the College 
 gates. 
 
 There was hardly any sign of life when I entered. 
 Parliament Square was deserted, save for the pre- 
 sence of a number of men whom I judged to be 
 skips, carrying water-pails and buckets. I strolled 
 about for a while, looking at the sombre buildings, 
 and speculating as to what they might be. 
 
 In the centre of the huge quadrangle there was 
 a lofty belfry, rising on a Doric arch, and sur- 
 mounted by a cross. At each of the four corners 
 from which the dome rose there was a pedestal 
 supporting a female figure. 
 
 I was wondering what these figures could be, 
 
 when a hand was laid on my shoulder, and a voice 
 
 38 
 
THE GROVES OF ACADEME 39 
 
 said, "What in the world are you doing here, 
 O'Grady, especially at such an hour as this ? " 
 
 The speaker was a young man, about medium 
 height, with a pale, almost transparent face, and 
 large dreamy eyes. His hair and slight moustache 
 were coal-black. He wore the velvet cap of a 
 scholar, and a graduate's gown. His face was 
 familiar to me, but for the moment I could not 
 remember who he was. 
 
 " Don't you know Sullivan, O'Grady ? " he asked, 
 with a smile at my confusion. 
 
 "Yes, of course I do," I said, shaking hands 
 warmly with the son of my father's old friend; 
 " but you have changed so much I did not recog- 
 nise you." 
 
 " Not for the worse, I hope," he said a little wist- 
 fully, and with a slight flush on his pale cheek. 
 " But you have not answered my question. When 
 I came upon you you were wrapt in a brown 
 study." 
 
 " I don't know about it's being a brown study," 
 I answered, "but it was certainly architectural. 
 I was wondering who were those four damsels up 
 there." 
 
 " Well, that I believe is a matter of opinion. My 
 friend Daly maintains that they are what's left of 
 
40 o'grady of trinity 
 
 the foolish virgins, who, for the crime of neglect- 
 ing to keep their lamps in good order, have been 
 condemned to keep watch and ward over Trinity 
 by day and night." 
 
 " But why should they be put here for punish- 
 ment ? " I objected. 
 
 " Why, because Parliament Square is the darkest 
 place in Dublin at night, except when it derives a 
 reflected radiance from the bonfires in the Bay, and 
 they are therefore constantly reminded of their back- 
 sliding because they did not buy oil to replenish 
 their lamps. But if you want the orthodox expla- 
 nation, they are intended to represent the four 
 schools of Divinity, Science, Medicine, and Law. 
 The carved heads on the keystones of the arches 
 under the dome are those of Homer, Socrates, Plato, 
 and Demosthenes ; but they are really believed to 
 be the Provost and three eminent Senior Fellows. 
 However, leave architecture for the present and 
 tell me about yourself. Why are you here ? " 
 
 " I am going to the entrance breakfast, and as I 
 was afraid to be late, I have come nearly an hour 
 too soon." 
 
 Well, that won't do you any harm. It's now 
 twenty-five past eight. I have an appointment at 
 nine, and until then I am at your service. Would 
 
THE GROVES OF ACADEME 4 1 
 
 you like to see something of the place ? The Cam- 
 panile bell will be ringing shortly." 
 
 " Thanks, I should like it very much." 
 
 " That is the Library," Sullivan said, pointing to a 
 long rectangular many- windowed building of three 
 stories, as we passed under the Campanile, between 
 two well-kept green swards, dotted with shrubs. 
 " It used to have a grand old cloister ; but they've 
 built that up to enlarge the reading-room," he 
 added regretfully. 
 
 "Those are my rooms up there where you see 
 the dormer-window open," Sullivan explained, as 
 we stood before a line of Queen Anne houses in red 
 brick, over which creepers were slowly making 
 their way. "When you come in I hope you'll 
 know them well. You'll always be welcome. 
 Remember 24 Rotten Row, top front. But there 
 goes the bell," as a melancholy sound broke from 
 the Campanile; "we haven't much time. Come 
 along; I want to show you the other side in the 
 New Square. There — what do you think of that ? " 
 he cried excitedly when we had turned the corner. 
 
 The whole eastern side was covered thick with 
 Virginian creepers, their red and yellow leaves 
 which clustered thick about the windows, and in 
 some cases almost concealed them, glittering bright 
 
42 o'geady of trinity 
 
 in the morning sun. Facing us was a little Doric 
 temple, venerable with the dusky hue of age, which 
 by its contrast brought out more vividly the bril- 
 liant wall of colour. 
 
 " Isn't it splendid ? " Sullivan exclaimed enthu- 
 siastically. "And where will you find such May 
 trees as those ? Why, in the spring-time they fill 
 the city with perfume, so that you hardly notice 
 the odours of the Liffey. It's a glorious old place, 
 isn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is," I answered ; " I don't wonder at your 
 being fond of it." 
 
 " Fond of it ! " Sullivan broke in, with a flushed 
 face and sparkling eyes. " Fond is but a poor word 
 to express what I feel. I love every bit of it, and 
 I know I have spent here the happiest years of my 
 life. I envy you for having it all before you. I 
 am turning my back on the best of it, and yet 
 I can't bear to realise that I have only another 
 year of it. I can never imagine myself living any- 
 where else. But I must leave you now. I dare say 
 you have had about enough of my personally con- 
 ducted tour. Anyhow, I'm glad I was the first to 
 show you something of the place. By the way, 
 who is your Tutor ? " 
 
 " Dr. Moore. Do you know him ? " 
 
THE GROVES OF ACADEME 43 
 
 "Yes, of course I do," Sullivan said, laughing. 
 " Well, you'd better go and look after him, or hell 
 forget all about you. I hope you'll get on all 
 right. Good-bye, and remember 24 Rotten Row, 
 top front." 
 
 I promised Sullivan to remember, and thanking 
 him very warmly, I set off to find Dr. Moore. 
 
 I couldn't help contrasting the earnestness of 
 feeling and the devotion he showed to his alma 
 mater with the careless flippancy of Daly and his 
 companions, who seemed, somewhat ungratefully, 
 I thought, to be bent on getting as much fun as 
 possible out of their academic parent at whatever 
 cost. But I discovered later that, however dif- 
 ferently they expressed themselves, their loyalty 
 to old Trinity was just as strong in its way as 
 Sullivan's. 
 
 When I returned to Parliament Square it had 
 already woke up into something like activity, and 
 gownsmen were lounging across the quad, to and 
 from the halls, with as much haste as their dignity 
 would allow of; while here and there a student 
 in blazer or sweater, and in his hand the pipe 
 he dared not smoke under a penalty, lounged 
 about with a supercilious glance at the crowds of 
 entrance-men who waited for their future Tutors. 
 
44 o'gkady of trinity 
 
 The clock was on the stroke of nine when I 
 reached my Tutor's house, from which Dr. Moore 
 himself issued, followed by three youths. He gave 
 me an absent-minded nod in answer to my respect- 
 ful salutation, and hobbled off rapidly to the Hall. 
 I fell in behind and followed him. 
 
 On the high table at the end of the hall the 
 breakfast was laid, and about fifty of us, including 
 our respective Tutors, sat down to it. The academic 
 breakfast differed little from ordinary breakfasts, 
 except for the quantity of "Sally Luns" which 
 appeared and disappeared with amazing rapidity. 
 Daly had warned me the day before against the 
 folly of indulging my taste for Sally Luns beyond 
 a reasonable amount, and I followed his advice. 
 Not so my Tutor, who, ignoring his pupils' exist- 
 ences, devoted himself to the Sally Luns as if he 
 were a machine specially constructed for their 
 consumption. I had therefore ample leisure for 
 observation, and though my Tutor neglected me, 
 I was the recipient of much vicarious advice. 
 
 Opposite me a young don, with a handsome 
 dark face, was explaining at considerable length 
 to an an^cTriic-looking youth the advantages of 
 becoming a member of the University Boat Club, 
 wliilc a Uttlc lower down a venerable-looking grey- 
 
THE GROVES OF ACADEME 4$ 
 
 beard was enunciating the important fact that of 
 all the Universities in the world, Dublin was the 
 one which most appreciated and rewarded hard 
 work. When I had appeased my hunger, and 
 grown tired of the moral lessons delivered each 
 side of me, I began to look about the Hall. 
 
 It was a large rectangular building with carved 
 oak wainscoting reaching half-way to the ceiling. 
 Above this, on the three walls, were hung por- 
 traits of distinguished members of the University, 
 amongst which I recognised those of Grattan and 
 Flood. 
 
 The wall on the left of the high table contained 
 no pictures, but was perforated Avith a number 
 of windows, which, with the two behind us, gave 
 light to the Hall. 
 
 At the head of the table stood a beautifully 
 carved pulpit, which I heard one of the dons ex- 
 plain had formerly belonged to the old College 
 Chapel. It faced the body of the Hall, which 
 was taken up with long tables and seats for the 
 students. 
 
 I was looking about for some other object of 
 interest when my first and only entrance breakfast 
 came to an end. 
 
 On the way out I espied the jolly, rubicund 
 
46 o'grady of trinity 
 
 visage of my schoolfellow Joe Roberts, whom his 
 contemporaries called " Bobs." 
 
 " How did you get on ? " he exclaimed, when we 
 both found ourselves in the quadrangle. " Wasn't 
 it jolly ? " 
 
 "Jolly!" I exclaimed. '-'I never was so bored 
 in my life. What do you call jolly ? " 
 
 "Well," Bobs answered, his ardour a little damped 
 by my want of sympathy, " I thought it was awfully 
 jolly. My Tutor is splendid. I was sorry when 
 it was over." 
 
 " You must have been in luck. What did you 
 talk about? Did he tell you to be a good boy 
 and work hard, and that sort of thing ? " 
 
 " Not a bit of it. He said a lot of awfully funny 
 things, and told a story about fishing in the JEgean 
 Sea. You know I always hated the ^gean, at 
 school, on account of those beastly islands that I 
 could never remember ; but now it seems rather a 
 good sort of place. He's awfully amusing though 
 he is a clergyman; but then, of course, he says 
 he always forgets that when he leaves Ireland. 
 Funny, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes, I suppose it is. But who is this wonderful 
 Tutor of yours ? " 
 
 " Dr. MacDuff ; he's awfully nice." 
 
THE GROVES OF ACADEME 47 
 
 "Don't be too sure, Bobs/' I said; "you know 
 * there's daggers in men's smiles/ and perhaps 
 when you've been examined by him you may 
 change your opinion;" and we went into the 
 Examination Theatre together. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 MY FIRST TERM IN TRINITY 
 
 I HAD no difficulty in satisfying the examiners that 
 I possessed the amount of knowledge requisite to 
 be enrolled as a student of Trinity, and indeed 
 when the examination was over I found that I 
 had been recommended for honours. This entailed 
 a second examination, which was equally satisfac- 
 tory as the first had been, and during it I had the 
 honour of being again introduced to my Tutor. 
 
 I lost no time in applying for rooms, as I was 
 anxious to enter into residence as soon as possible. 
 Unfortunately I had to make my application 
 through Dr. Moore. I had selected vacant rooms 
 in the top of the house at the corner of the new 
 square, with an alternative set in Botany Bay if 
 the claims of some one else should be preferred 
 before mine. The number of the house in which 
 I had selected rooms was 27. 
 
 On the day after the Board meeting, I discovered, 
 
 much to my chagrin, that my Tutor had made a 
 
 48 
 
MY FIRST TERM IN TRINITY 49 
 
 mistake, and rooms in the top of No. 7 had been 
 assigned to me, while the rooms which I had 
 desired were given to another. I might, of course, 
 have repudiated Dr. Moore's appUcation, but I 
 resolved to make the best of his bad bargain. 
 
 The rooms which I was destined to inhabit 
 were reached by climbing seventy-two steps, and 
 I was told that the last occupant of them was 
 famous as a mighty runner and jumper, a fact 
 which I found it easy to believe. They were 
 approached by a narrow winding staircase dimly 
 lighted by a window in the roof by day, and by 
 night dark as Erebus. At the top of the staircase 
 a heavy oak door, opening inwards, gave or refused 
 admittance, according to the inhabitant's pleasure. 
 Inside this door was another and less formidable, 
 opening on the sitting-room. 
 
 In the corner of the room next the door Avas a 
 dunscope — a circular hole in the wall, just large 
 enough on the inside for the eye to see through, 
 but gradually widening on the outside to the size 
 of a man's hand. I was vastly interested in this 
 device for avoiding objectionable visitors ; for, from 
 the inside it was easily possible to see any one who 
 claimed admittance, without allowing oneself to be 
 seen. 
 
 D 
 
5o o'grady of trinity 
 
 I had at least one advantage in living so high 
 up — I had a magnificent view of the city. From 
 my sitting-room window I could see many miles 
 away to the north beyond the green lanes of Clon- 
 tarf, and from my bedroom I looked over the old 
 Houses of Parliament to the Phoenix Park on the 
 west, and caught the last rays of the setting sun 
 as they gilded the many spires and steeples which 
 rose above the smoke and stir of the city. 
 
 As soon as I had paid my deposit, which amounted 
 to something under ten pounds, for my rooms were 
 probably the least sought after and therefore the 
 cheapest. Dr. Podium, the Junior Bursar, handed 
 over the keys to me, with a jest about the height 
 of the rooms and the lowness of the rent. 
 
 On leaving Dr. Podium's rooms I was waylaid 
 by a little dark man, who informed me that he was 
 the houseskip in No. 7, and offered his services to 
 me. He mentioned, amongst other recommenda- 
 tions, that he was an army pensioner, and would 
 show me his medals if I liked; that he did not 
 object to sprees, as Mr. Daly would testify; and 
 that he had served in the Ionian Isles, and had 
 learnt while there to speak Greek. 
 
 These qualifications might easily have imposed 
 on one older and more experienced than I could 
 
MY FIRST TERM IN TRINITY 
 
 claim to be, so I engaged him promptly, and handed 
 over to him one of my keys. He touched his hat, 
 and was going away, when I remembered that I did 
 not know his name. I called him back and asked 
 him how he wished to be addressed. He seemed 
 embarrassed by the question, which I repeated. 
 
 " Well, sir," he said somewhat regretfully, " my 
 father's name, somehow or another, I don't rightly 
 know why, was Devin ; but, sir, the young gentle- 
 men all call me Devil, and I've got so used to it 
 that I'd be confused if I was called anything else. 
 So maybe, sir, you wouldn't mind " 
 
 " Oh, not at all, Devil," I answered, laughing. " I 
 wouldn't deprive you of your time-honoured name 
 for worlds." 
 
 " Thank ye, sir," Devil said, with grateful gravity, 
 and touching his hat, he disappeared to look after 
 my rooms. 
 
 The College supplied one article of furniture to 
 each set of rooms, to wit, a bookcase with cupboards 
 underneath. I entrusted Devil with the task of 
 obtaining the rest. He assured me that he was 
 skilled in the purchase of furniture, and that what 
 a College gentleman wanted was strong, serviceable 
 furniture that would last him his time. 
 
 " There's no use," said he, in gettin' them gim- 
 
52 o'grady of trinity 
 
 crackeries as is only fit for a lady's boudoor, an' if 
 a gentleman sits down on them a bit onaisy like, 
 he couldn't tell where he'd be the next minute. 
 Good solid ould-fashioned furniture is what you 
 want ; for, as the parabole says, sir, where's the use 
 in puttin' new chairs into ould rooms ; an' there's 
 no gettin' over that, is there, sir ? " 
 
 I admitted there was not, and told Devil that 
 I left myself in his hands. 
 
 In about a week's time my rooms were ready to 
 receive me. Devil justified my confidence in him, 
 and procured me furniture both solid and com- 
 fortable, and likely enough to withstand the wear 
 and tear of three or four years and still be worth 
 something afterwards. 
 
 He was not devoid of taste, and I discovered 
 later that he prided himself on the orthodoxy of 
 his views as to arrangement. When I arrived to 
 take up my residence I found the shelves of my 
 bookcase, which were empty of books, filled with 
 glasses, plates, and other things which appertained 
 rather to the gastronomic than to the intellectual 
 part of man. The arrangement of my sitting-room 
 table would have done honour to a second-rate 
 lodging-house parlour. 
 
 In the centre stood my reading-lamp, while 
 
MY FIRST TEKM IN TRINITY S3 
 
 round the table were placed, with an obvious effort 
 at carelessness, a Liddell and Scott's "Lexicon," 
 Tyrrell and Purser's "Correspondence of Cicero," 
 Palmer's "Catullus," and Bury's "Pindar," which 
 I had brought from school as prizes. Devil had 
 evidently been attracted by the school-arms which 
 were stamped in gold on the covers, and seemed 
 much disappointed when I bade him conceal them 
 in the comparative obscurity of the bookcase. 
 
 I took Sullivan's advice and entered my name 
 for the classical Honour Lectures, and Bobs did 
 the same, although the subjunctive mood had 
 been a cause of much trouble to him during his 
 schooldays. The Latins, Bobs held, were a most 
 dishonest race. 
 
 "Why couldn't the beggars be straightforward, 
 and not be always asking indirect questions ? Their 
 innuendoes are positively indecent, that's what I 
 call them," he used to exclaim indignantly when 
 he found his playtime curtailed ; " and as for their 
 rhetorical questions, why the deuce should a fellow 
 ask a question when he doesn't want an answer ? " 
 
 The truth was, that Bobs had a natural aptitude 
 for mathematics, although he endeavoured to con- 
 ceal it ; and when he inadvertently won a prize at 
 school for proficiency in science, his humiliation 
 
54 o'grady of teinity 
 
 was so great that it was several days before he 
 recovered his normal equanimity. 
 
 No sooner had I donned the cap and gown than 
 I became fired with the spirit of emulation. I 
 looked up my father's name in the University 
 Calendar, in which he invariably headed the 
 honour lists, and I said in my heart that I should 
 do his memory no discredit. I had another reason, 
 absurd as it may seem, for desiring to excel. 
 
 The Dublin undergraduate gown could not by 
 any stretch of imagination, however elastic, be 
 considered a graceful or even dignified garment. 
 It resembled in shape and texture the gown worn 
 by the sexton of our old parish church, and this 
 fact in itself damped somewhat my academic pride 
 in it. I yearned, therefore, for the comely gown 
 and velvet cap of the Scholar. 
 
 Daly, and Eyre, a tall, rather supercilious-look- 
 ing youth, who lived in the same house with me, 
 had both called on me early in the term, and 
 to them I confessed rather shamefacedly some- 
 thing of my ambitions. My confession seemed 
 greatly to amuse them. Never mind, O'Grady," 
 said Daly, laughing, " I was taken badly that way 
 myself. I suppose it's the result of bringing brains 
 to the 'Varsity; but when the fit wears off, and 
 
MY FIEST TEEM IN TRINITY 55 
 
 you have grown tired of the eloquence of our old 
 friends Demosthenes and Cicero, then you will see 
 the absurdity of regarding the University as a mint 
 or a treadmill. Till then, farewell ! " 
 
 But although Daly had bidden me farewell thus 
 solemnly, I saw a good deal of him. We met often 
 in the football field, for Daly, besides stroking the 
 Senior Eight, was one of the 'Varsity three-quarter 
 backs, and I believe that it was owing to his in- 
 fluence, though he never would acknowledge it, 
 that I, a jib in my first year, got a place on the 
 Second Fifteen. 
 
 Sometimes, too, at his invitation I went to his 
 rooms after Commons to drink coffee and take a 
 hand at nap, whist, or spoil-five, and although he 
 was already a Scholar and the most brilliant man 
 in his year, as well as being senior to me in academic 
 standing, he never adopted that air of patronage 
 which freshmen generally have to suffer at the 
 hands of their seniors. 
 
 Daly was the most catholic man I have ever 
 known, and at his rooms I met nearly every set in 
 Trinity. 
 
 There were to be seen athletic men, whose talk 
 was of rowing statistics, and who discussed with 
 unwearied animation our chances against Oxford 
 
56 o'grady of trinity 
 
 and Cambridge, and the construction of the next 
 season's Eleven ; classical men, who wrangled over 
 the ethics of Aristotle, and criticised one another's 
 Latin or Greek verses with all the heat and can- 
 dour of youth ; budding orators, who rehearsed im- 
 passioned perorations which were to win them the 
 applause of their fellows at the debating societies ; 
 musical men too — whom Martin dubbed flats and 
 sharpers — found their compositions sound sweeter 
 on Daly's piano than on any other ; nay, even cer- 
 tain who believed in the Thirty-Nine Articles, and 
 questioned not the Divine inspiration of Scripture, 
 met together at Daly's hospitable hearth. 
 
 All these, with their varying interests and activi- 
 ties, found Daly the most sympathetic host, and 
 his happy tact and ready wit kept the balance 
 so evenly between their conflicting opinions, that 
 breaches of the peace were of rare occurrence. 
 
 Yet, despite the undoubted catholicity of Daly's 
 tastes, he had a very distinct leaning towards the 
 less serious side of life, and often he would break 
 off in the middle of some metaphysical argument 
 upon " foreknowledge, will, and fate," to take part 
 in any escapade which was risky enough to be 
 exciting, and humorous enough to be diverting. 
 
 Tlio philosophy of Kant or of Hegel was as 
 
MY FIKST TERM IN TRINITY 5/ 
 
 notliing compared with the successful achieve- 
 ment of a bonfire in the Bay, and the subse- 
 quent evasion of the Dean and his myrmidons 
 was better to him than the collective wisdom of 
 the Schools. 
 
 For all his great ability, Ned Daly was incor- 
 rigibly boyish, and I believe he derived more 
 pleasure from the amazement and indignation 
 excited in the breasts of certain reverend dons 
 one Sunday morning when on their way to Chapel 
 they beheld the female figures of the Campanile 
 solemnly clad in surplice and mortar-board, and 
 with long clay pipes in their mouths, than from 
 any of his many academic triumphs. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 GREEN PASTURES AND BLUE DEVILS 
 
 I CONFESS I was not altogether sorry when my 
 first term in Trinity drew to a close. I adhered 
 manfully to my resolution to attend lectures regu- 
 larly, and read diligently; but I was, before long, 
 yearning for the freer social intercourse and amuse- 
 ments which I saw most of my College acquaint- 
 ances enjoy. Moreover, I began to feel that there 
 was really no reason for so great assiduity on my 
 part, especially as I had read all the first year's 
 work while at school. 
 
 However, I made it a point of honour with 
 myself to carry out my first intention, although 
 every day I found it harder to set my face re- 
 solutely against the many distractions. But the 
 self-denial I had shown in my first term stood 
 me in good stead afterwards, for I won the re- 
 putation of being "a reading man," which still 
 clung to nic even after I had ceased to deserve it. 
 
 1 went homo for the Christmas vacation. My 
 
 58 
 
GREEN PASTURES AND BLUE DEVILS 59 
 
 uncle seemed pleased when I told him that I 
 had played for the Second Fifteen, and hoped to 
 get my cap next year. He asked me how I had 
 got on in the Junior Pairs, and I had to confess 
 the great humiliation that I had not yet had 
 time for rowing, and that in fact I had spent most 
 of my time reading and attending lectures. 
 
 My uncle sniffed the air indignantly. 
 
 " In my time a lad would have pulled his oar 
 if he had to lose his lecture," he remarked. " You 
 might as well have gone to a national school." 
 
 I felt very much hurt at this unexpected recep- 
 tion from my uncle after all my hard work. I 
 began to think that I must have made a mistake 
 when two people so dissimilar in character as 
 Colonel O'Grady and Ned Daly held the same 
 opinion about my conduct. 
 
 " I got through a lot of reading, and one can't 
 do everything," I remarked, rather sulkily. 
 
 "Your father, Hubert, stroked his boat, and 
 was first in his year," my uncle broke out vehe- 
 mently ; " and why the devil should jou turn 
 yourself into a confounded bookworm ? " 
 
 " I think Hubert is looking a little pale. He 
 will want picking up," my aunt said, in her gentle 
 voice. 
 
6o 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 Colonel O'Grady looked at me sharply. 
 
 "Then you'd better feed him with pap and 
 a sucking-bottle/' he remarked, but in a voice 
 free from asperity. " I suppose he's forgotten how 
 to use a single-stick." 
 
 " Try me/' I said grimly, for my blood was up. 
 
 My uncle accepted my challenge. It was just 
 what I wanted. I was smarting under the in- 
 justice of his sneers. 
 
 Several times I broke my opponent's guard, 
 and I saw him wince. 
 
 " I am an older man than I thought, boy," he 
 said, as he hung up his stick. " My sight begins 
 to fail." 
 
 I could have wept with remorse, because I had 
 lost my temper, and made my uncle confess that 
 the tyro had beaten the veteran. 
 
 " No, no, uncle," I exclaimed ; " it was only 
 because I got you to face the light. It was my 
 only chance, you know, sir." 
 
 Ah, you young rascal," he said, with a pre- 
 tence of indignation, while the cloud cleared from 
 his brow. "Come into the gun-room. I have 
 soincthing to show you." 
 
 My uncle took up a case from the corner of 
 the room juhI banded it to mc. On a brass plate 
 
GREEN PASTURES AND BLUE DEVILS 6 1 
 
 my name, together with the date, was inscribed. 
 I opened the case and took out a beautifully 
 finished hammerless fowling-piece, the stock inlaid 
 delicately with silver. When I was murmuring 
 a few broken words of thanks, Colonel O'Grady 
 interrupted me. 
 
 " If you haven't spoiled your eyes with your 
 confounded study, we ought to have some good 
 sport. Tom M'Nally says there are plenty of 
 birds, and I got a few cock myself the other day." 
 
 I spent my vacation pleasantly enough. I shot 
 and hunted with my uncle, and being well mounted 
 and a light weight, I often showed a clean pair of 
 heels to the field. 
 
 Occasionally, too, I went to country dances, 
 where I found my value considerably enhanced. 
 My prestige as a Trinity man was only a little 
 inferior to that of the holder of a commission 
 in the regulars, and decidedly above that of a 
 militia captain. 
 
 I found myself regarded as an authority on 
 city gossip — a reputation which I was far from 
 deserving — and was frequently called upon to 
 decide such knotty points as to whether Miss 
 Brown or Miss Smith was the favourite for the 
 tennis championship in Fitzwilliam Square. I 
 
62 o'grady of trinity 
 
 made up for my ignorance — which I concealed 
 as well as I could, refusing to commit myself by 
 expressing any very definite opinion — by scattering 
 broadcast invitations to afternoon tea in my rooms 
 on College Races' day. 
 
 To be of some little repute, however undeserved, 
 in my own neighbourhood was very gratifying. I 
 was besides passionately devoted to my gun and 
 my horse ; and in Rory and Paudheen I had two 
 of the best bred Irish terriers in the county. 
 Neither was I altogether insensible to the bright 
 eyes and blooming cheeks of the maidens with 
 whom I danced or hunted. 
 
 But what, I thought, were these attractions, after 
 all, compared with the eager, joyous, and manifold 
 life of the 'Varsity ? Before the end of January I 
 was ready to exchange hunting-field and snipe- 
 bottom for the quadrangles of Trinity, and my 
 uncle's well-spread table and carefully laid wines 
 for the plain fare and " attenuated small beer " of 
 Commons. 
 
 I was determined to give Colonel O'Grady no 
 further cause for dissatisfaction ; I would take his • 
 and Daly's advice. I should no longer regard 
 Trinity as a national school, nor as a treadmill, but 
 as a kindly, and I hoped indulgent, alma mater. 
 
GREEN PASTURES AND BLUE DEVILS 63 
 
 A few days before the Hilary Lectures had begun, 
 I departed for DubUn, after tearing myself from 
 the whining embraces of Rory and Paudheen, who 
 strongly protested against this second separation. 
 
 About ten o'clock the same night I went round 
 to Daly's rooms. His outside door was shut, but I 
 thought I heard his voice inside. I knocked, but 
 there was no answer. I thought I must have been 
 deceived, and was going away to look up some one 
 else, when I caught a glimmer of light through the 
 closed shutter. 
 
 Daly was evidently sporting his oak for some 
 reason, but I was sure he would admit me. I went 
 back to his door, and shouted through the letter- 
 box, "Daly, open to O'Grady." This time I did 
 not fail, for both doors were thrown open, and 
 Daly welcomed me warmly, and bade me enter. 
 There was no one except Daly in the room ; but a 
 big grey cat lay sleeping on his gown before the fire. 
 
 " I thought I heard you talking to some one," I 
 said, looking round the room in surprise. 
 
 " So I was — to the cat," Daly replied, as he drew 
 from his cupboard glasses and a bottle of whisky. 
 
 " To the cat ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes, to that same god of the Egyptians. I was 
 telling him my troubles. You see a cat has this 
 
64 o'grady of trinity 
 
 advantage over a human being, in that he always 
 seems to understand, and never betrays any lack of 
 tact. But after purring a while, out of sympathy, 
 I suppose, his gratitude became exhausted. The 
 candid brute got bored and went to sleep. When 
 you knocked at my door I was apostrophising him 
 in the words of Brutus — 
 
 * Enjoy the lioney-heavy dew of slumber. 
 Thou hast no figures nor no phantasies, 
 Which busy care draws in the brains of men; 
 Therefore thou sleep's t so sound.' " 
 
 " I'm sorry I broke in upon you," I began. 
 
 "And I'm very glad. Come, O'Grady, let the 
 pewters clink, or better still, wait until I boil some 
 water; we'll have some punch in honour of your 
 return. 'If sack and sugar be a fault, God help 
 the wicked.' Don't look at me as if I were a ghost 
 or a madman. You know I'm not a ghost, for I 
 have shaken hands with you; and that I'm not 
 mad — at least not yet — I hope to prove before the 
 close of this discourse, as old Brownrigg would say. 
 Here, drink." 
 
 He handed me a loving-cup full almost to the 
 brim with stcaining punch. I drank, and returned 
 it to him in silence. Daly took a deep draught, 
 and set the cup on the table between us. 
 
GREEN PASTURES AND BLUE DEVILS 65 
 
 For several minutes he sat gazing abstractedly 
 into the fire. Then starting to his feet suddenly, 
 he kicked the cat from before the fire, exclaiming, 
 "Avaunt, thou silent philosopher, thou Egyptian 
 devil, get thee gone ! " 
 
 The cat took refuge under the table, and gazed 
 with amazement and fear at his master — an amaze- 
 ment which I fully shared and sympathised with. 
 Daly looked at the cat for a moment and then at 
 me, and burst out laughing — 
 
 " I see you both think I'm mad, but I am not. 
 O'Grady, do you know what blue devils are ? " 
 
 " No, except perhaps by name," I answered. 
 
 " Ah, well, thank Providence for it then. They 
 are the curse of the Celt. You are no pure Celt if 
 you know them not. Thank your ancestors for 
 the immunity. They come upon me like a thief 
 unawares when I am alone. Then, hke Con- 
 stance, ' I am sick, and capable of fears,' and my 
 thoughts run on tombs and death, and horrors 
 worse than death. Thank your forefathers for it, 
 if you don't." 
 
 " Oh, you'll get over them all right," I said, with 
 an assumption of cheerfulness which I did not alto- 
 gether feel, for Daly's strange conduct had alarmed 
 as well as puzzled me. 
 
 E 
 
66 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 " Yes, yes," lie replied thoughtfully, " as long as 
 I am young; but you know 'youth's a stuff will 
 not endure.' I suppose I shall be old one day, and 
 then, and then " 
 
 I looked at his handsome face and well-knit 
 though shght figure, and thought how far in the 
 future was any suggestion of age. 
 
 I was about to say something of this when we 
 heard a knock at the door. 
 
 Daly started. 
 
 " My dear O'Grady," he said, almost in a whisper, 
 but very earnestly, " never a word of this an' thou 
 lovest me. Forget what I have said to you." He 
 opened the door and admitted the diminutive 
 figure of Phil Martin, the 'Varsity Cox, wrapped 
 in a dressing-gown of divers colours. 
 
 " Hello, Daly ! " the new-comer exclaimed. " Some 
 one told me you were sporting your oak; but I 
 thought I'd risk being carried off by consumption 
 and the east wind and look you up. How d'ye 
 do, O'Grady?" 
 
 " You're more likely to be carried off by con- 
 sumption — of alcohol, Phil, than by the east wind. 
 But I'll give you as much punch as you like if you 
 promise to carry yourself off safely afterwards." 
 
 " I'll promise anything, for, like the Johnnie in 
 
GREEN PASTURES AND BLUE DEVILS 67 
 
 the Old Test., my belly's full of the east wind. 
 Of a truth, the gods have directed my feet to your 
 rooms at a critical moment." Martin seized the 
 cup and raised it to his lips ; then he set it down 
 again and drew a deep breath. 
 
 "The gods rain favours upon thee, Daly, for 
 verily thou hast saved a life valuable to the world 
 in general, and especially at this season to the 
 'Varsity crew," Martin exclaimed, with an admir- 
 able imitation of a sanctimonious snuffle. 
 
 " Verily, friend Philip," returned our host, look- 
 ing into the empty cup, " to judge from the quan- 
 tity thou hast drunk, thou wert in sore need of 
 spiritual consolation, for thou hast drained the cup 
 even to the dregs." 
 
 " Even so, friend Daly, for in proportion to the 
 greatness of my need have the gods granted their 
 servant the strong consolation. But to leave the 
 language of the elect, and adopt that of the 
 wicked, as being more intelligible to my unre- 
 generate hearers, I have a proposition to make." 
 
 " How much will do you, Phil ? — I'm rather in 
 funds now," Daly asked, as he brewed another cup 
 of punch. 
 
 I said a proposition, not a composition, for devil 
 a penny my creditors will get out of me for many 
 
68 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 a day. But leave my creditors to the evil that will 
 one day overtake them and all sinners, and give 
 ear unto my words." 
 
 " My good Martin/' Daly ejaculated, with a laugh, 
 *'you are as full of the echoes of Holy Writ as a 
 Protestant, to whom are denied even the moderate 
 enj ojrments of purgatory. How has it come about ? 
 
 " Ah, good friend Daly, I was as near the fire as 
 any sinner of you. My maternal aunt, good old 
 soul, was a fierce Evangelical; kept a dog's — I 
 mean a home for waifs and strays, and fed them 
 on tracts and other indigestible substances. I 
 spent my youth with her, and for every derelic- 
 tion — I fancy they were many, judging from the 
 result — I had to learn a text of Scripture. Hence 
 these echoes. But to get to the matter in hand — 
 my aunt, Mrs. Martin, is giving a dance on the 25 th 
 of this month, and I've brought you a card for it." 
 
 "Thanks, old man. Mrs. Martin's dances are 
 always a godsend," Daly replied. 
 
 "I've got another card or two — blank ones. 
 Would you care to come, O'Grady ? We'll take a 
 drag down — Enniskerry, you know." 
 
 " I should like it immensely," I answered ; " and 
 if you want another man, Joe Roberts would, I'm 
 sure, be glad to come." 
 
GREEN PASTURES AND BLUE DEVILS 69 
 
 " Can he dance ? " Martin asked. 
 
 "An Irish jig better than any one I know." 
 
 " Good ; that's settled, then. An revoir, Daly." 
 
 " Au revoir. Are you going, too, O'Grady ? 
 Well, good-night;" and Martin and I made for 
 our respective rooms. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE BALL AT ENNISKERRY 
 
 I LITTLE suspected how memorable the 25 th of 
 February, the day of Mrs. Martin's dance, was 
 destined to be in the history of my hfe. 
 
 Without any difficulty I obtained from the 
 Junior Dean the necessary permission to leave 
 College after hours. The drag was to be at the 
 gates at 9.30, and we had more than an hour's 
 drive to accomplish before we reached our 
 destination. 
 
 While I was dressing, the sound of a horn, 
 
 mingled with shouts of "O'Grady," from below 
 
 warned me that my companions were waiting. 
 
 The horn sounded nearer, until Martin, with a 
 
 thunderous blast, entered my room. " Make haste, 
 
 old fellow," he exclaimed, panting from the double 
 
 exertion of winding the horn and climbing the 
 
 stairs ; " they're getting impatient below, and if 
 
 you keep them waiting any longer, they'll be 
 
 likely to spend the night with the sergeant of 
 
 70 
 
THE BALL AT ENNISKEKRY 7 1 
 
 police in College Green for brawling on tlie King's 
 highway, and we shall have to face my aunt's 
 indignation alone. The Dean refused Eyre per- 
 mission to leave College, so he has put on a 
 false beard to pass the gates. Let me be your 
 mirror. Yes, you'll do all right. Put on a heavy 
 overcoat, it's freezing hard. Got your pumps ? 
 Come along then." 
 
 We hurried down the stairs. Outside the gates 
 the rest of the party were waiting, their breath 
 looking like smoke in the frosty air. A little crowd 
 of gamins surrounded the drag, and criticised 
 with caustic wit the horses and the groom, who 
 stood in front of the leaders and blew through 
 his hands for cold. 
 
 "Get up, Daly, and take the ribbons," Martin 
 said, as he clomb into the box-seat ; " the rest of 
 you get in behind." 
 
 We took our seats amidst cries from the crowd 
 of urchins, which shattered the solemnity of a 
 burly policeman, and made him grin with enjoy- 
 ment. " Give us a tune of yer tin whistle," shouted 
 one; "Throw us a copper to dhrink yer honour's 
 health," cried another; "Shure it isn't coppers 
 gintlemen from the CoUidge 'ud be demanin' 
 thimselves be givin' ye — shure it's only silver an' 
 
72 o'grady of trinity 
 
 goold tlie likes o' thim 'ud be carryinV cliimed 
 in a third. 
 
 Martin sounded his horn, and with a crack of 
 his whip, Daly drove off, leaving our critics rolUng 
 over one another in a mad scramble for pennies 
 which we had thrown them. 
 
 Past the Provost's House and round the corner 
 into Nassau Street we went in good style, for 
 none knew better than Daly how to handle the 
 ribbons, and we had four of the best horses we 
 could pick at Sewell's. Through Clare Street and 
 Merrion Square we rattled, while Martin roused 
 the slumbering echoes with the enlivening strains 
 of his horn. On we went at a good swinging pace 
 through Mount Street, across the canal, and out 
 on the broad Kock Koad. 
 
 At Ball's Bridge we turned to the right and 
 greeted the moon with a cheer as she rose amid 
 the trees behind Donnybrook Church, which pre- 
 sides peacefully over the ghosts of those turbulent 
 heroes who once made far-famed Donnybrook 
 Fair. 
 
 What sound is more sweet than the clink of 
 the iron-bound hoofs on a firm, hard road ? what 
 more inspiriting than the snorting of the horses 
 as they toss their heads on high, and rejoice 
 
THE BALL AT ENNISKERRY 73 
 
 in their strength? Woe worth the day when 
 Stephenson devised his leviathan of iron to oust 
 both horse and coach, and destroy for us the 
 joy of the road. 
 
 Past Donnybrook, our way lay for some distance 
 under the spreading trees ; the full moon glittered 
 bright above the network of bare branches over 
 our heads. Then, with almost startling sudden- 
 ness, we emerged from under the trees, and found 
 ourselves close to the mountains which separate 
 the counties of Dublin and Wicklow. They lay 
 bathed in the silver moonlight, cloven here and 
 there by valleys of incredible darkness like moun- 
 tains in fairyland ; the little cottages which rarely 
 dotted their sides might well have been the 
 dwellings of the sheogues, so insubstantial did 
 they seem. 
 
 For some time none of us had spoken. Daly 
 had slackened his pace ; but when we had passed 
 into the half shadow of the wooded valley of the 
 Scalp, he whipped up his horses. 
 
 Eyre first broke the spell which had fallen 
 on us by producing a flask of brandy from his 
 pocket and passing it round. It was no unwel- 
 come diversion, for the wind, though light, blew 
 
74 o'grady of trinity 
 
 keenly down from the hills. A little later we 
 skirted the town of Enniskerry, and leaving it 
 on our left, came in sight of Mrs. Martin's house. 
 It was a large old-fashioned mansion, and its many 
 windows glowed warm and cheerful in contrast 
 to the cold light of the moon. 
 
 We caught the sound of merry music as we 
 wheeled in by the open gates and up the winding 
 avenue to the house, Martin announcing our arrival 
 with a thundering blast of his horn. 
 
 Our hostess was a pretty little woman, dark- 
 eyed, and very vivacious. 
 
 " What a hideous sound you made, Phil. I knew 
 it could be no one but you," she said to her nephew. 
 
 " My dear aunt,'' Martin replied, " that was to 
 lift up your heart. Confess now that you were 
 in despair lest I should not come. What is an 
 aunt without a nephew!" 
 
 " You rude boy," Mrs. Martin rejoined, with a 
 play at indignation. " Mr. Daly, why don't you 
 teach him better manners ? " 
 
 " We have tried ; but if Mrs. Martin has failed, 
 how shall we hope to succeed ? " Daly answered, 
 with a bow to his charming interrogator. 
 
 " I wish you would teach Phil to make pretty 
 speeches." 
 
THE BALL AT ENNISKERRY 75 
 
 " Me, aunt!'' her nepliew exclaimed ; " you should 
 hear me when I take the crew out. I am univer- 
 sally admitted to have the prettiest gift of concise 
 language on the river. Why, I believe some one 
 is compiling a selection of my pithy epithets for 
 the use of all coxswains, present and to come." 
 
 But Mrs. Martin was watching the dancers and 
 did not reply. When the band ceased playing, 
 she turned to me — 
 
 " Come, Mr. O'Grady," she said, " let me intro- 
 duce you to Miss Bertha Colquhoun. You may 
 not be too late to inscribe your name in the Ust 
 of her happy victims." 
 
 The next moment I found myself bowing before 
 the most lovely girl I had ever seen. She was 
 indeed — 
 
 " A daugliter of the gods, divinely tall, 
 And most divinely fair," 
 
 and yet she was hardly more than a child. The 
 fringe of hair, which gives even to the plain woman 
 almost the semblance of beauty, clustered in a 
 delicate mass of gold over her broad low brow, 
 a crown befitting the exquisite chiselhng and 
 glorious colouring of her face. 
 
 She wore a simple white gown, with a bunch 
 
76 o'grady of trinity 
 
 of Clotli-of-gold roses in the girdle, her only other 
 adventitious adornment being a necklet of white 
 pearls. She laughed with just a suspicion of 
 coquetry when I complained that her programme 
 was so full; but I succeeded in finding a vacant 
 space, where I scrawled my name. I was anxious 
 for the last dance before supper, but it was 
 already forestalled. 
 
 I resigned her unwillingly to her partner for the 
 next dance, and went without eagerness to seek 
 my own. 
 
 My turn came at last. She seemed as un- 
 wearied as Diana, and she danced like a goddess, 
 her lithe form swaying with rare instinctiveness 
 to every mood of the waltz music. It seemed 
 almost like sacrilege to speak to her, so I gave 
 myself up to the rapture of the dance, half in- 
 toxicated with the beauty of her face and with 
 the perfume of her hair. But all too quickly the 
 dance had come to an end. 
 
 We sat down in an alcove under the shade of 
 a friendly palm. She told me with childish con- 
 fidence of her life ; her mother was a widow, her 
 father having been killed in India, and this was 
 her first season. They lived very quietly near 
 Lucan, and I found that in spite of her beauty she 
 
THE BALL AT ENNISKERRY 77 
 
 had several girl friends. She had also two pet 
 dogs and a pony. I entreated her to tell me of 
 them, hoping that she might forget that she was 
 pledged for the next dance ; but a pale-faced, weak- 
 kneed youth came seeking her, and again she left 
 me with a little bow and a smile. 
 
 I was searching my mind for an appropriate 
 and adequate punishment for the youth's trans- 
 gression in claiming his right to my companion, 
 when I felt a touch on my arm. I looked round 
 and saw my hostess. 
 
 "Don't look so tragic, Mr. O'Grady," she said, 
 laughing; "you seemed just now on the point of 
 making an attack on some one. Pray don't, but 
 instead, let me introduce you to Miss Smart, who 
 by her great learning puts all you young men to 
 shame." I followed Mrs. Martin meekly, and was 
 duly presented to the lady. 
 
 Miss Smart was slight and pale. She was 
 dressed, with the dowdiness of a century ago, in 
 a black silk dress, which accentuated her lack of 
 colour. Her only ornament, an old-fashioned pen- 
 dant of gold set with turquoises — several stones 
 had been lost — hung suspended by a little chain 
 from the neck and lay on her hollow chest. A 
 faded pink ribbon pathetically bound the little 
 
78 o'grady of trinity 
 
 globe of straw-coloured hair, and gave to the un- 
 symmetrical figure its only suggestion of femi- 
 ninity. She spoke with a quick, sharp insistence, 
 which jarred somewhat on my ear after the clear, 
 musical tones I had just been listening to. 
 
 "Are you in favour of admitting women to 
 degrees in Dublin University ? " she asked, as we 
 took our seats at the supper-table. 
 
 " I can't say I ever thought seriously about it," 
 I answered quite truthfully, being indeed more 
 interested in the fact that Bertha Colquhoun was 
 sitting on the other side of Miss Smart, than in 
 the higher education of women. 
 
 " I don't believe Trinity students ever do thmk 
 seriously of anything," retorted Miss Smart, with 
 some temper. 
 
 " Oh yes, I assure you they do," I replied. 
 
 " What do they think seriously about ? " she 
 asked sarcastically. 
 
 " Well, just now they are thinking very seriously 
 of our chances for the Metropolitan Cup. We 
 haven't yet been beaten at Rugger." 
 
 " What is Rugger ? I never heard of it." 
 
 " Rugger is a kind of football." 
 
 Miss Smart laughed scornfully. 
 
 " What a noble ambition ! " she exclaimed. " I 
 
THE BALL AT ENNISKERRY 79 
 
 suppose you are all the same. Why, only the 
 other day I met a gentleman — he was an M.A. of 
 your University too — and he knew all about the 
 statistics of racing and cricket and rowing and that 
 sort of thing; but when I tried to turn the con- 
 versation on some intellectual subject, he said that 
 he didn't think he had ever opened a scientific 
 work since he was at College. He seemed quite 
 proud of it too." 
 
 A general movement from the supper -table 
 reheved me from the necessity of replying to an 
 argument which had ceased to be engrossing. My 
 eyes met those of Miss Colquhoun, and I saw from 
 her look of amusement that she had enjoyed my 
 discomfiture. 
 
 I offered my arm to Miss Smart. 
 
 On our way to the ball-room we met Daly. 
 My companion's face flushed almost to comeliness. 
 She drew her arm from mine and stood facing 
 him, her faded blue eyes looking up into his with 
 a wistful eagerness which even I, careless observer 
 as I was, could not fail to notice and interpret. I 
 drew a little away and watched them while I 
 waited to convey my charge back to the ball- 
 room. 
 
 I remarked with a sudden throb of pity her 
 
8o 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 poor face, pale and pinclied, and her scant locks 
 almost turned grey, as Daly stood listening with 
 a courteous smile to her eager words. Then he 
 turned to me with an apology for having occupied 
 my companion's attention so long. 
 
 " Miss Smart and I have so much in sympathy," 
 he said, "that we find it difficult to express it in 
 a moment. To me is given only the ambition, to 
 Miss Smart belongs the realisation also. She is now 
 reading for her D. Litt. in the Eoyal ; we men are 
 surrendering with but a poor pretence of a struggle. 
 I might perhaps be a competitor of hers now, only 
 that I fear I should never pass the matriculation. 
 You really make your exams, too stiff. Miss Smart." 
 
 I expected her to justify them with a con- 
 temptuous comparison between them and our 
 own exams., but her bellicose spirit seemed to 
 have forsaken her; and I believe she would have 
 sacrificed all her ambitious dreams, including the 
 D. Litt., to prolong her conversation with Daly 
 even for a few minutes. 
 
 She took my arm again with unconcealed regret- 
 fulness, and Daly left us to seek his partner for the 
 next dance. 
 
 " Do you know Mr. Daly well ? " she asked me 
 when we entered the ball-room. 
 
THE BALL AT ENNISKEKRY 8 1 
 
 "Yes; at least as well as a jib may know his 
 senior, though Daly never thinks of chat." 
 
 " Is he popular in College ? she asked again. 
 
 " Yes, he is," I answered, and then added a little 
 cruelly, " You see he is the best three-quarter we 
 have, and he strokes the Senior Eight besides. 
 Hell be captain of the Eleven before long. We 
 are all very proud of him." 
 
 I said nothing of his academic distinctions pur- 
 posely, thinking to provoke her, but she did not 
 rise to the bait. She had gone pale again, and 
 looked tired and old. I offered to take her to 
 a seat, but she refused; she would rather look 
 at the dancers she said, and I understood. Now 
 and again Daly passed us, waltzing with Miss 
 Colquhoun, his handsome head bent over the 
 beautiful face of the girl who made such a 
 contrast to the poor, pale remnant beside me, 
 with her faded eyes yearning after the unattain- 
 able. 
 
 I felt that for the moment Miss Smart and I 
 were not so far apart. I turned, and saw that she 
 was looking at me. I think she understood. 
 
 Then she said, in a voice which sounded dull 
 and lifeless, "I see my aunt is looking for me. 
 Pray take me to her." 
 
 F 
 
82 0*GRADY OF TRINITY 
 
 She put her hand on my arm, and I dehvered 
 her into the safe keeping of an elderly lady with 
 corkscrew ringlets. With a murmur of thanks, 
 and a quaint gesture, half-way between a bow and 
 a curtsey, she left me. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 IZOD OF CHAPELIZOD 
 
 It was about five o'clock when we muffled ourselves 
 
 in our greatcoats and prepared to take the road. 
 
 Most of the other guests had already left, but Mrs. 
 
 Colquhoun and her daughter were remaining for 
 
 the night. I eagerly sought an opportunity of 
 
 saying farewell to the beautiful girl who had made 
 
 my heart beat as I had never known it beat before, 
 
 but fate was against me. When I attempted to 
 
 approach her, some one else claimed her attention, 
 
 and I was left bemoaning my lack of courage. I 
 
 had taken leave of my hostess, and was standing in 
 
 the hall waiting for my comrades when she passed. 
 
 She turned for a moment, and seeing me, cried 
 
 with a smile, "Bon voyage, Mr. O'Grady," and 
 
 before I could answer she had vanished. 
 
 But that Bon voyage had sealed my fate. She 
 
 had not forgotten me. Would she forget me ? 
 
 No, not if I could help it. 
 
 I was roused from the deUcious stupor into 
 83 
 
84 o'grady of trinity 
 
 which I had fallen by Martin's voice. " Where is 
 O'Grady ? Ah, here he is, looking as gloomy as a 
 conspirator. Come along and have a stirrup-cup ; 
 the others are here." I followed him into a little 
 room at the end of the hall, where Daly, Eyre, and 
 Bobs were fortifying themselves for their drive, 
 with champagne. 
 
 " I found our knight of the rueful countenance 
 meditating ' treasons, stratagems, and spoils,' " said 
 Martin, as he poured out a bumper for me. 
 
 I noticed that though the others were cloaked, 
 ready for the road, Martin had made no addition 
 to his dress. 
 
 " Aren't you coming with us ? " I asked. 
 
 " No, my dear boy ; I have to remain to entertain 
 the lady guests to-morrow." 
 
 For the moment I felt jealous and envious of 
 Phil. I would have given a year of my life to 
 have taken his place. 
 
 When Martin went to see after our drag, the 
 others began to chaff me on my taciturnity. Bobs 
 suggested that I had proposed and been rejected ; 
 and Eyre went further, and asserted that he had 
 overheard my declaration of love to Miss Smart, 
 and her rejection of me. Then he proceeded to 
 imitate the terms in which the supposed proposal 
 
IZOD OF CHAPELIZOD 8$ 
 
 and rejection were made, at which Bobs laughed 
 heartily, but Daly did not seem to like it. 
 
 " There are other ways, Jack, of gaining a repu- 
 tation for wit besides making fun of a lady in her 
 absence, and if you want to score off O'Grady, you 
 can do it without bringing in Miss Smart's name." 
 
 Eyre was about to reply when Martin came back. 
 
 " The drag is ready, boys," he said, " but Donelly 
 is as drunk as Bacchus, so I've had him stowed 
 under the seat. He'll probably come to before you 
 reach College. You'd better go round to the stables 
 and start from there ; it's snowing pretty fast." 
 
 We left Martin with a cheery good-night. The 
 groom was stowed safely under one of the seats, 
 and Eyre undertook to give him a kick now and 
 then, so that he might not smother, or complain 
 afterwards that he had been neglected. At Daly's 
 suggestion I took the ribbons, while he sat beside 
 me and wound his horn at intervals. 
 
 A fine light snow fell noiselessly about us, and 
 everything was clad in a mantle of white. The 
 hoofs of the horses sounded mufiied and ghostlj^ 
 and I could scarce see beyond the heads of my 
 leaders. Bobs and Eyre once or twice essayed to 
 sing, but after a few ineffectual attempts they gave 
 it up. Our groom slept on and snored in happy 
 
86 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 unconsciousness of snow and cold. A freshening 
 wind blew the snow in our faces, so that both Daly 
 and I found it more comfortable to close our lips 
 against it and be silent. 
 
 As for me, my blood coursed so merrily through / 
 my veins that no cold blasts could chill it. The 
 snow fell thicker and faster as I built my fairy 
 castle, and dreamed of impossible services to my 
 mistress. In my ear sounded more sweet than 
 any music the motto of my hope, "Bon voyage, 
 Mr. O'Grady." 
 
 In truth, but a slender foundation suffices youth 
 and love to build upon. I forgot that in this 
 nineteenth century affaires de coeur go more slowly 
 than of old, and that love is no longer a justifica- 
 tion for love. I forgot "the painful patience in 
 delays" which modern conventions have made a 
 necessary qualification in a lover. I forgot that 
 we had only met once, by chance, and for a 
 moment, and that we might not meet again. I 
 forgot everything save the beauty of her face, the 
 music of her voice, and the perfume of her hair — 
 I was in love, and not yet twenty. I forgot also 
 that four horses and the comparative safety of three 
 of my fellow-creatures, as well as my own, depended 
 in some sort on my remembering the fact. 
 
IZOD OF CHAPELIZOD 87 
 
 As we passed by Donnybrook Church my off- 
 leader stumbled, recovered herself, and then stum- 
 bled badly again. This awakened me from my 
 dreams. With a shout, and a cut of my whip on 
 her flank, I had her on her feet again, trembling 
 with fright, and quivering like an aspen leaf. 
 
 You saved her well, old man," Daly remarked. 
 "I didn't quite like the look of that little mare 
 myself ; and it's always safer to keep a tight rein 
 whether you know your horses or not." 
 
 I bit my lips with vexation, for I was proud of 
 my driving, and was anxious to win the praise of 
 Daly, who was the best horseman, whether riding 
 or driving, I had ever known. 
 
 The dawn was breaking when we drove past the 
 Provost's House to the gates of Trinity. The snow 
 had ceased falling, and the sky gave promise of a 
 clear day. I felt some little regret as I drew up 
 before the College gates, to think that our expedi- 
 tion was over. But, as it turned out, I had no 
 reason for any such regret. 
 
 Our adventures were destined to continue for 
 some time longer, and this, too, through the action, 
 or rather inaction, of our groom. 
 
 We each took it in turn to reason with him, 
 and to represent the importance of taking back 
 
88 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 the drag to Sewell's ; but lie declined to acknow- 
 ledge his responsibility. When Bobs got him more 
 or less at right angles to the seat, Donelly put his 
 arm affectionately round his neck and called him 
 old fellah." Then he tried to hiccup a song, but 
 exhausted with the effort, he fell back into his 
 former horizontal position, his face beaming with 
 drunken rapture. Eyre, who never showed much 
 of the milk of human kindness, suggested taking 
 Donelly and the drag back to Sewell's ; but this 
 proposal was promptly vetoed by Daly, who asked 
 Eyre how he would like to be taken to the Dean 
 when he was drunk himself. 
 
 " The best thing we can do," he said, " is to drive 
 into the country somewhere and have breakfast. 
 By that time Donelly will be all right. What do 
 you say to that plan, O'Grady ? " 
 
 "I'd like nothing better," I replied; and both 
 Eyre and Bobs readily agreed to come with us, 
 although Daly suggested that they could return to 
 College if they liked. After a little discussion 
 as to where we should breakfast, we decided on 
 Lucan. 
 
 It Avas a glorious morning, and by the time we 
 reached the Phoenix Park the sun was shining 
 brightly. The wind had gone down, and the air 
 
IZOD OF CHAPELIZOD 89 
 
 was keen and frosty. I had no mind for sleep, 
 and I felt with delightful exhilaration the joy of 
 being alive. At Chapelizod we crossed the bridge 
 which spans the river, and drew up at a neat 
 little hostelry, for we were all thirsty, and our 
 mouths clamorous for a draught. 
 
 Over the hospitable door was proclaimed in 
 letters of gold that Mrs. Cassidy was authorised by 
 law to quench the thirst of the traveller. A round- 
 faced youth stood in the doorway, and gazed with 
 open-mouthed wonder at ourselves and our equi- 
 page. His surprise was not diminished when Daly 
 leapt down and demanded of him a cup of sack. 
 
 "Sack!" he repeated thoughtfully, scratching 
 his head. 
 
 " Yes, sack. Do you mean to tell me you never 
 heard of sack ? " Daly exclaimed indignantly. This 
 put the youth on his mettle. The credit of the inn 
 was at stake, and he came nobly to its rescue. 
 
 "Ay, have I heard of it," he replied, with un- 
 blushing confidence. " An' what's more, me arm is 
 achin' still wid sarvin' it all last week. But divil a 
 dhrop's left, and that's no lie. Maybe ye'd like a 
 sup o' good porther, or a glass o' whisky ? Sure 
 it's better nor sack, any way, on a cowld mornin'." 
 
 What more he might have added I know not, 
 
go o'grady of trinity 
 
 for at this moment he was brushed aside from 
 behind, and the hostess herself appeared, her apple- 
 cheeked face wreathed in seductive smiles. With a 
 curtsey, she asked, would the gentlemen " be pleased 
 to step inside to the parlour ? It was as clane as 
 a new pin, an' as tidy a little spot as any in the 
 parish, though she said it, as shouldn't. Bill would 
 look afther the young man," referring to Donelly. 
 
 Daly assured her that her own comely face 
 was guarantee enough for any one, at which Mrs. 
 Cassidy simpered, and led the way to the parlour. 
 She was justified in calling it neat and tidy. 
 
 The walls were whitewashed and spotless ; pic- 
 tures of Emmett and Parnell, together with photo- 
 graphs of two reverend gentlemen — probably the 
 parish priest and his curate — relieving their mono- 
 tony. In the centre of a round mahogany table stood 
 a bowl of fresh, white spring flowers. On the mantel- 
 piece was a little statue of the Madonna, with a 
 rosary hanging round its neck; and in a corner of the 
 room stood a respectable but old-fashioned piano. 
 
 Mrs. Cassidy was well pleased at the effect pro- 
 duced on her visitors, and when wc had quenched 
 our thirst with some excellent beer, we readily 
 consented to accept her invitation to stay for 
 breakfast. Her daughter Mary had a wonderful 
 
IZOD OF CHAPELIZOD 9 1 
 
 hand at toastin' bacon, which French nuns had 
 taught her when she was at the convent, she ex- 
 plained, as she poked up the fire into a blaze. 
 Then she went out of the room and called 
 " Mary." A sweet voice with a touch of brogue 
 in it answered, and in a moment the owner of it 
 came into the room. 
 
 It is true that we expected no slattern ; but the 
 girl's beauty and grace took us all by surprise, and 
 I think we bowed involuntarily to her when she 
 came in, and with deft rosy fingers began to lay 
 the table for our breakfast. 
 
 Her face was oval, and her brow low and wide. 
 Her mouth was small, but her lips were red and 
 luscious, a httle too luscious perhaps. Her cheeks, 
 too, it may be, were too full, and the hue of health 
 in them too rude for perfect beauty ; but her eyes 
 were deep, liquid blue, shaded by heavy lashes as 
 dark as the hair which curled over her brow. She 
 wore a close-fitting blue serge gown, which showed 
 off her well-developed but graceful figure, and her 
 hoUand apron harmonised well with the colour of 
 her cheeks. 
 
 Though my heart was full of another and dif- 
 ferent kind of beauty, it was impossible to withhold 
 one's tribute of admiration for this wonderful rustic 
 
92 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 Hebe that chance or good fortune had sent to wait 
 on us. 
 
 She was a httle shy at first, but before long Daly 
 had gradually led her on to talk freely. She con- 
 fessed that she loved music, and Daly sat down at 
 the old piano and drew such sounds from it that 
 the girl paused in her task with parted lips and 
 Hstened. Then, when he had finished, she asked 
 him in a low voice — as if hushed by its own 
 temerity — to sing something for her. She was 
 kneeling at the fire holding the hissing, spitting 
 bacon before it. Daly watched her face for a 
 moment, and then began — 
 
 " Oh,^ 'tis little Mary Cassidy's the cause of all my misery, 
 And the raison that I am not now the boy I used to be ; 
 Oh, she bates the beauties all that we read about in history, 
 And sure half the country-side is as lost for her as me. 
 
 Travel Ireland up and down — hill, village, vale, and town — 
 Fairer than the * Cailin donn ' you'll be looking for in vain ; 
 Oh, I'd rather live in poverty with little Mary Cassidy, 
 Than Emperor without her be o'er Germany and Spain " 
 
 Daly had a fine baritone, and he managed it 
 well. As he sang, the colour in the girl's cheeks 
 grew deeper, she bent her head lower, and I saw 
 
 * This charming lyric, "Mary Cassidy," is by Mr. F. A. Fahy, 
 who has kindly permitted me to use it. 
 
IZOD OF CHAPELIZOD 93 
 
 the rapid rise and fall of her bosom. Then Daly 
 fixed his eyes pitilessly on her face and sang on — 
 
 " What is wealth, what is fame, what is all that people fight 
 about. 
 
 To a kind word from her lips or a love-glance from her eye? 
 Oh, though troubles throng my breast, sure they'd soon go 
 
 to the right about. 
 If I thought the curly head would be resting there by- 
 
 and-by. 
 
 Take all I own to-day — kith, kin, and care — away ; 
 Ship them across the say, or to the frozen zone. 
 Lave me an orphan bare — but lave me Mary Cassidy, 
 I never would feel lonesome with tl^e two of us alone." 
 
 It sounded like an impassioned declaration of 
 love. I watched the girl curiously ; she had for- 
 gotten her toasting, and the bacon was lying un- 
 heeded on the fender. She seemed like one in 
 a dream. When Daly ceased singing she drew a 
 long breath, and then turned and looked at him. 
 What he read in her eyes I know not, but I saw 
 his own gaze sink before hers. 
 
 It may well have been that he read there some- 
 thing of the trouble to come of which this was 
 the beginning. 
 
 Mrs. Cassidy bustled cheerily into the room, 
 carrying tea, and a steaming dish of poached eggs 
 on toast. We drew the old-fashioned oak chairs 
 to the table right gladly, for our long drive, and 
 
94 o'grady of trinity 
 
 the seductive perfume of Mary's delicious bacon, 
 had kindled in us the appetite of hunters. The 
 girl set the bacon on the table, and was about to 
 leave, but Daly begged her to stay and pour out 
 the tea for us ; and this she did prettily enough. 
 
 It was evident that if she liked Daly best, she 
 cared least for Eyre, whom she invariably helped 
 last ; and although he paid her several neat com- 
 pliments, and suggested that the inn should hence- 
 forth be called the " Mermaid Tavern," she seemed 
 hardly to listen to him. She showed all a woman's 
 curiosity about the lace and the dresses of the 
 ladies, which Daly described with amazing accu- 
 racy of detail. 
 
 After breakfast we went out to have a smoke and 
 inquire after Donelly, leaving Daly to finish his 
 story. They had sluiced the groom's face with 
 cold water, and we found him apparently quite re- 
 covered from his recent indisposition, and enjoying 
 a substantial breakfast in the kitchen. While Eyre 
 and Bobs were strolling about the river, I went 
 back to fetch Daly, about whom I began to feel a 
 certain amount of uneasiness. I heard his voice 
 singing again, and I paused for a moment to 
 Usten. It was something from the garden scene 
 in " Tristan and Isolda." He jumped up when I 
 
IZOD OF CHAPELIZOD 95 
 
 opened the door, and exclaimed, " Ah, here comes 
 Bragaena ! " 
 
 " No, I am not Bragaena," I said, " and neither 
 are you Tristan," I added meaningly. 
 
 " Perhaps not," he replied, laughing ; " but there 
 is no King Mark. I have been telling Miss Cas- 
 sidy about the beautiful Irish princess St. Izod, 
 whom Tristan loved, and — would you believe it ? — 
 although she lives in Chapelizod, she never heard 
 of St. Izod, and says there is no such saint in her 
 prayer-book." 
 
 " No, I'm sure there isn't," the girl replied. 
 
 " Well, then, there ought to be. Henceforth you 
 shall be St. Izod of Chapelizod, and this day shall 
 be consecrated to you." 
 
 "No, no, not saint," she murmured, looking a 
 little frightened at his audacity ; " it is wicked." 
 
 "Princess, then," he said, with a smile; "and 
 here I pledge you my fealty," raising her hand to his 
 lips. " Now we must have a bumper to toast Prin- 
 cess Izod of ChapeKzod. Where are the others ? " 
 
 Eyre's voice calling us to hurry up answered 
 the question. 
 
 "Come in, you fellows, and drink to Izod of 
 Chapelizod." 
 
 So we all drank the toast in beer, while the girl 
 
96 o'grady of trinity 
 
 stood blushing before us as we pledged her under 
 her new name of Izod. 
 
 The drag and Donelly were already awaiting us. 
 Daly, who was always foremost in matters of the 
 kind, paid the bill and threw a shilling to the bar- 
 man, with a promise to come soon and test his 
 sack. So with many expressions of thanks to 
 Mrs. Cassidy and her daughter, who came to the 
 door to give us God-speed, we departed and drove 
 back to College. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 A LONG PULL AND A STRONG PULL 
 
 For several weeks after the ball at Enniskerry I 
 hoped every day that in some unexpected manner 
 I should hear of the Colquhouns, and that a happy 
 accident might bring myself and Bertha Colquhoun 
 together again. 
 
 Martin, of course, could have given me informa- 
 tion about them, but I dared not ask him, lest he 
 should suspect my secret. I knew that if I gave 
 the least hint of it I should have to run the 
 gauntlet of chaff, which I felt would now be in- 
 tolerable, and I was scarce unselfish enough to be 
 content to afford amusement to my friends at my 
 own expense. It made me wince to think what 
 a malicious joy Eyre would have in finding a 
 weak place in my armour, and I knew him already 
 well enough to be certain that he would use any 
 information without ruth or scruple. 
 
 None of us cared much for Ejrre, but his acknow- 
 ledged selfishness and outspoken cjniicism amused 
 
98 o'grady of trinity 
 
 us, while we were yet too young and too full of the 
 zest of life to regard the expression of them as 
 other than purely academic. Having to guard 
 well the secrets of my own heart, I became some- 
 what suspicious, and perhaps on this account I 
 formed a more definite opinion than the others 
 did of Eyre's character. 
 
 When one is at the 'Varsity it is impossible to 
 mope even if one is in love, and I did not. 
 
 Moreover, the term boat races were coming on, 
 and I was anxious to retrieve my character in the 
 sight of my uncle. I had drawn Bobs for the 
 Junior Pair races, and we had a fair chance of 
 being in the final boat even if we did not get our 
 pots. Bobs was undeniably lazy, but he had 
 plenty of grit. We had both rowed on the Corrib 
 when at school, but this was a different matter. 
 
 After our first experience of our tub we returned, 
 if not wiser, certainly sadder men. As a great 
 favour Martin had taken us out for a preliminary 
 coaching, and acted quite up to his reputation as a 
 master of expletives. When we reached the land- 
 ing-stage, after rowing like galley-slaves for about 
 half-an-hour, every joint in our bodies aching as if 
 we had been on the rack, Martin informed us that 
 our conduct was enough to make any self-respect- 
 
A LONG PULL AND A STRONG PULL 99 
 
 ing bargee blush for his kind. He said such 
 insulting things to Bobs about crab-catching and 
 disturbing the eels in the mud that at one time a 
 rupture, or at least suspension of diplomatic rela- 
 tions, seemed imminent. 
 
 But after our cold shower-bath and a glass of 
 stout — the staple refreshment of the 'Varsity Boat 
 Club — we felt such a delightful sensation of 
 pleasant weariness that we freely forgave our 
 tormentor. 
 
 Eyre sat at the fire smoking cigarettes and 
 gibing at the folly of those who imposed unneces- 
 sary torture on themselves. It was his favourite 
 role to play the part of spectator and critic, and 
 if he witnessed the drowning of his dearest friend, 
 his satisfaction in knowing that he himself was on 
 dry land wovild have amply secured him against 
 any mere human regrets. His maliciousness, 
 moreover, was quite candid, and he admitted that 
 he found abundant scope for his philosophy in the 
 Boat Club, especially at the end of term, because 
 if one crew were successful, at least half a dozen 
 would be lamenting their failure. 
 
 Once when Bobs and I with our unlucky cox 
 were swamped by the swirl of a river steamer, and 
 had to swim back to the boat-house, we found Eja-e 
 
lOO 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 awaiting us, quoting, with a grin of malicious glee 
 at our mishap, his favourite lines — 
 
 " Suave mari magno turbantibus sequora ventis 
 E terra magnum alterius spectare labor em." 
 
 This was more than we could stand after our 
 cold bath, and if Eyre had not been fleet of foot 
 and our limbs benumbed with cold, he would have 
 paid the penalty with a ducking. After this he 
 confined his remarks to the comparative safety of 
 the clubroom. 
 
 A few weeks of hard training had done wonders 
 for us, and though we did not notice it so much 
 ourselves, our rowing had vastly improved. Bobs 
 ceased his investigations in the mud of Anna 
 Liffey, and if he still feathered his oar a trifle 
 high, it was a good fault on such a river as ours, 
 especially when the wind blew strongly from the 
 sea. I had learned to pull a long, clean stroke, 
 and to get the work on at the beginning, and we 
 kept very good time. 
 
 A week before the race we were third favourites, 
 and on the eve of the trial, after we had been over 
 the course with Daly for our coach, we rose to 
 second place. One thing was strongly in our 
 favour: Martin was the best and lightest cox in 
 
A LONG PULL AND A STRONG PULL lOI 
 
 the club, and he knew the river, and how to take 
 advantage of wind and wave better than any one 
 else. 
 
 The first heat we won as we liked; but the 
 second was close enough to prevent us indulging in 
 any very great jubilation, as we got home by only 
 half a length. In the third heat our opponents' 
 stroke broke his oar soon after the start, and we 
 came home alone. On the last day, when we 
 rowed our final heat, there was as much excite- 
 ment as if the Eights and not the Junior Pairs 
 were striving for the palm. 
 
 Crowds of College men gathered at the starting- 
 point near the end of the river wall, many of them 
 on jaunting-cars, to watch the race and cheer their 
 favourites. The betting was now three to two 
 against us, having fallen from five to two ; and 
 Daly had backed us to the extent of five pounds 
 at the beginning, I believe more to give us heart 
 than because we had much chance of winning. 
 
 Martin would express no opinion of our chances 
 — on principle, he explained. The night before the 
 final struggle we were discussing our fate in Daly's 
 rooms, when Martin came in, shorn of his mous- 
 tache and whiskers, of which we knew him to 
 have been both proud and anxious. When asked 
 
I02 o'grady of trinity 
 
 the cause of this disfigurement, he declared that 
 he had sacrificed them in our interests in order to 
 Hghten the boat, and with this explanation we had 
 to be satisfied. 
 
 A light sou'-west wind was blowing. The spin 
 of the coin was against us, and we had to take the 
 outside station, our opponents having the shelter 
 of the wall. After a few words of counsel and 
 encouragement from our cox, the signal was given, 
 and we were off. We went away first, and were 
 leading by nearly half a length ; but inch by inch 
 our opponents crept up, and I found it hard, in 
 spite of Martin's injunction, to resist the inclina- 
 tion to quicken my stroke. 
 
 The crowd, which at the starting had been 
 silent, now ran or drove along the bank yelling 
 their encouragement, mingled with expressions of 
 blame or praise. Now we were neck and neck, 
 and Martin gave the word to quicken. The 
 stroke of the other boat did the same, and for 
 a while we were still level at half-way. Then 
 our opponents began to draw gradually away 
 from us. 
 
 I felt as if my last hour had come; and the 
 shouting on the bank sounded dull, indistinct, 
 and far away. At the three-quarters post I lost 
 
A LONG PULL AND A STRONG PULL IO3 
 
 sight of the rival boat. Then Martin shouted, 
 "Give her a dozen, boys, and take her home 
 first," and with cracking sinews and faiUng strength 
 we obeyed the summons. 
 
 I seemed to lose consciousness, and remembered 
 nothing until I heard Martin cry, "Easy. Well 
 rowed, boys. We have beaten them." 
 
 At the landing-stage eager hands were stretched 
 out to help our tottering steps, and honey-sweet 
 words of congratulation buzzed in our ears. No 
 Olympian victor ever felt prouder than I did as 
 I climbed the narrow staircase to the clubroom, 
 and at that moment I would not have changed 
 places with the greatest in the land. 
 
 It was only a tub race after all, but it was my 
 first victory, and to me it seemed the greatest in 
 the world. Never afterwards, even when I rowed 
 in the winning Eight, did I feel the same exulta- 
 tion as I felt in this my maiden triumph. It was 
 a good race all through, Martin told us afterwards, 
 but almost from the beginning and right up to the 
 last couple of boat-lengths of the course the odds 
 were against us. Then the bow of the rival boat 
 caught a crab, and we forged ahead and passed the 
 winning-post little more than the breadth of an 
 oar's blade in front. 
 
104 o'grady of trinity 
 
 Daly's joy at our success was hardly less than our 
 own. Neither of us had ever made any allusion to 
 that evening when I had discovered, through Daly's 
 momentary self-revelation, the strange melancholy 
 which underlay his gaiety and light-heartedness. 
 But I knew that it formed a bond between us, 
 closer and firmer than any that existed between 
 him and the others of our set; and only those 
 who knew what a fascination Daly had for us 
 could realise how proud I was of the distinction. 
 
 The reckless readiness with which Daly had 
 taken up the bets so freely offered against us 
 before the race, was amply justified by the result. 
 He had cleared a very respectable sum, and he 
 insisted, that as we had borne the burden and 
 heat of the day while he had merely looked on^ 
 the least he could do to show a proper sense of 
 his obligation and gratitude was to give the win- 
 ning crew a dinner at the Phoenix. 
 
 We left Eyre playing the part of Job's comforter 
 to the luckless bow who by his blunder had given 
 us the race, and jumped on a jaunting-car amidst 
 cheers from the jarvies who had been excited 
 critics of the contest. Martin went to have a 
 Turkish bath, and promised to join us at the 
 Phoenix in time for dinner. 
 
A LONG PULL AND A STRONG PULL lOJ 
 
 "Kemember seven sharp, and not a minute's 
 grace," Daly shouted after him ; but this warning 
 notwithstanding, Martin was late. We waited ten 
 minutes for him, and then Daly ordered dinner to 
 be served, our own requirements being so urgent 
 that we could brook no longer delay. 
 
 However, before we had finished our soup Martin 
 arrived, wearing the air of placid composure which 
 we knew portended the recital of some adventure. 
 " Chide me not, 0 my friends,'' he said solemnly, 
 as he seated himself, " because I am late. To-day 
 the Lord has been pleased to deliver mine enemy 
 into the hands of His servant. Verily my heart is 
 relieved of a great load ; the circumstances whereof 
 I will presently relate when I have refreshed the 
 inner man." 
 
 "Drop the language of metaphor, my good 
 Martin," Daly retorted, "and tell your tale in 
 plain English and without varnish. For every 
 wanton and unnecessary word or phrase we will 
 impose a fine upon you. Who was the enemy ? " 
 
 Martin emptied a glass of champagne, and replied 
 laconically, " Mulligan." 
 
 " Do you mean the cox of the Glengarry Eight ? " 
 
 " The same." 
 
 " What grievance have you got against him ? " 
 
io6 o'grady of trinity 
 
 " He lost us the race last year. I had to steer 
 into the current to avoid a foul." 
 
 " Yes, I remember. What have you done with 
 him ? " 
 
 "Listen. Ill unfold the tale. He was having 
 a Turkish bath, and I went into the shampooing- 
 room for a drink of water. Well, he followed me 
 in and asked me was I the shampooer." 
 
 We burst out laughing at this, and Martin went 
 on — 
 
 "I thought at first that he knew me, and 
 wanted to insult me, so I said very quietly and 
 humbly that I was. He lay down on the marble 
 slab at my mercy. I just uttered a pious ejacula- 
 tion of thanks to Providence, and seized the lather 
 brush and ran it over him, getting as much as 
 I could of the lather into his mouth and eyes. 
 Then when he spluttered and coughed, I thumped 
 his ribs as hard as I could, and pressed with all 
 my weight on his stomach until I thought his 
 eyes would leap out of his head. He tried to get 
 up, but I held him down; and when he opened 
 his mouth, I put the lather brush into it. 
 
 " That nearly choked him, and by this time he 
 was as blind as an owl. During the operation 
 the shampooer came in. Ho seemed surprised; 
 
A LONG PULL AND A STRONG PULL IO7 
 
 but I winked at him to say nothing, and he went 
 out with an appreciative grin on his face. MulHgan 
 by now had come to the conclusion that I was a 
 shampooer gone mad, and tried hard to escape. 
 
 " I let him go at last, for I was getting tired, and 
 he made for the cooling-room with me at his 
 heels. In his terror he missed the right door, 
 and fell into the tank, and if I hadn't been there 
 to save him he'd have drowned as sure as his 
 name is Mulligan. 
 
 "Now, boys, haven't I deserved well of the 
 'Varsity?" 
 
 We admitted that he had, and Daly ordered 
 more champagne to celebrate the event, for, as 
 he said. Mulligan was a little beast, and should 
 not be allowed to row with gentlemen. We 
 adjourned after dinner to Daly's rooms for coffee; 
 but even its stimulating influence could not keep 
 me awake, so I went off to bed, and dreamed wild 
 dreams of strange contests, in which I was less 
 successful than in my waking moments. Only 
 one part of my dream was connected enough to 
 remember afterwards. 
 
 I thought I was rowing a canal-boat, with a 
 pair of outrigger sculls, from Ringsend to Howth. 
 My competitor was Eyre, who, with a diabolical 
 
io8 o'grady of trinity 
 
 sneer, was standing on the bridge steering the 
 mail-boat. Despite all my efforts lie drew ahead 
 of me, and I saw him step on shore at Howth, 
 and receive a chaplet of flowers from the hand of 
 a lady whose face I could not see. Then suddenly 
 she turned and the sunlight fell on her — it was 
 Bertha Colquhoun. 
 
 I cried out in agony and awoke. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 AN INTER-'VARSITY CRICKET MATCH 
 
 My cricket was not yet good enough to give me 
 a place in the Eleven. I had had scarce any 
 coaching until I came to Trinity, but as soon as 
 the cricket season began I spent several hours 
 nearly every day at the nets bowling or batting. 
 Daly advised me to practise bowling as much 
 as possible, because it was the shortest way of 
 getting on the Eleven, amateurs finding it more 
 fascinating to wield the willow tolerably than to 
 excel with the ball. 
 
 Daly and Martin were probably the best bats 
 of their year. Daly had learned his cricket as well 
 as his classics at the Irish " Eton," St. Columba's 
 College; and Martin had been trained in that 
 famous nursery of cricketers, Clongowes Wood 
 College. 
 
 Of the two, Martin was perhaps the safer bat 
 to score on any wicket ; but once Daly got his eye 
 in, and began to open his shoulders, he treated all 
 
no 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 bowling, good and bad, alike. He hit all round 
 tbe wicket with equal confidence and daring; but 
 his clean, low drives on the off were delightful to 
 witness, and called forth more applause than when 
 he lifted the ball over the boundary, as he often 
 did, and lost it amid the shrubs of the Wilder- 
 ness. He was a good change bowler, too, with 
 a high, fast delivery, which he occasionally varied 
 with a slow break from leg that often puzzled 
 the batsman, and beat him before he recovered 
 from his surprise. Martin kept wicket with equal 
 skill and courage, and stood up to the fastest 
 bowling. 
 
 We used gloomily to bode disaster for the 'Var- 
 sity Eleven when time should have deprived it of 
 these two doughty champions, forgetting that in 
 a University one is only for his time, and when 
 that is past he must make way for the perpetual 
 stream of younger blood which fills his place. 
 We did not realise then what our elders could 
 have told us, that in a few years our glorious deeds 
 would be forgotten, and not even our names re- 
 membered, except by those of our contemporaries 
 who shared the joys of our triumphs or the sorrows 
 of our defeats. 
 
 In the glorious June weather it was good to 
 
AN INTER-'VAKSITY CRICKET MATCH III 
 
 lounge about the quadrangles in blazers and flan- 
 nels, or lie on rugs in the College Park, and smoke 
 while we watched the cricket. To Bobs especially 
 this seemed an ideal existence, and I found it 
 difficult to induce him, even for the sake of his 
 digestion, to adjourn to the tennis-courts and play 
 a few sets with me when cricket or the river was 
 no longer possible to us. With Bobs in any active 
 undertaking the beginning was everything, and 
 having once begun, he would fight winning or 
 losing game doggedly on to the end. 
 
 We were all eagerly looking forward to the 
 match with Oxford, which was to take place in a 
 few weeks. Even those who at other times showed 
 but little interest in cricket and cricketers were 
 now anxiously watching and criticising the form 
 shown by the champions of the 'Varsity. So far 
 the season had been a successful one, and our 
 standard had not yet been lowered by a single 
 defeat. We had lately beaten the Phoenix with 
 its formidable Eleven — invincible on paper — of past 
 University cricketers, and with this victory our 
 supremacy in Ireland had been established for the 
 season. Brown, a young Irishman from Australia, 
 had done wonders with the ball, and Kennedy, 
 like Martin, a ClongOAvnian, who had boAvled well 
 
112 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 for the Eleven the season before, had vastly im- 
 proved. Thompson (from Dublin High School) 
 and Daly were both good change bowlers. Every 
 man on the Eleven could bat and field, and we 
 had no " tail." 
 
 The most pessimistic among us acknowledged 
 that we had a good chance of winning ; and even 
 when the news reached us that Oxford had beaten 
 Cambridge by five wickets, our hearts still beat 
 high with hope and confidence. 
 
 As the days of this, our most important fixture 
 of the season, drew near, I found plenty of work to 
 do. The Eleven monopolised the nets during most 
 of the day, and my services as a bowler were largely 
 in demand. I threw myself heart and soul into 
 the work, as if the fate of the 'Varsity depended 
 on me alone, and with my zeal my effectiveness 
 also increased. Daly was batting brilliantly and 
 with confidence, and we agreed that if he lasted 
 out the first half-dozen overs he was certain of 
 a big score. But unfortunately that if was a 
 most troublesome quantity in Daly's cricket, as in 
 everything else he attempted. He could no more 
 change his style of cricket than he could his dis- 
 position. He had to hit whether he liked or not ; 
 and when he had tried to act merely on the defeu- 
 
AN INTER- Varsity cricket match 113 
 
 sive, he seemed so unhappy that one was almost 
 reheved to see him out to some ridiculously simple 
 ball which at other times he would have sent over 
 the boundary. 
 
 I had been bowling to him one evening two days 
 before the match, and had twice taken his wicket. 
 As we returned to the pavilion together he said to 
 me, " I am almost sorry you are not playing with 
 us on Thursday. However, it can't be helped now. 
 Anyway, I'm glad you won't be bowling against 
 us. You have improved wonderfully." 
 
 This praise from Daly was very gratifying to 
 me; but still I could not help feeling a pang of 
 regret, that however valuable my bowling might 
 be, it was too late to alter the selection of the 
 team. The thought of plajdng for the Eleven in 
 his first year was enough to make the head of an 
 ordinary freshman reel with joy and pride. Several 
 times the thought had occurred to me, but only 
 to be banished next moment as an overweening 
 presumption. But now when Daly had given 
 utterance to my unspoken hope, I felt as if some 
 great prize that my soul had yearned after had 
 been snatched away from me. 
 
 Daly, I think, noticed my disappointment; for 
 he put his hand on my shoulder with that kind 
 
 H 
 
114 o'grady of trinity 
 
 of caress which none of us could resist, and said, 
 " Never mind, old fellow, you have done as much 
 already as any of us could to win the match by 
 giving us so much good bowling, and if I should 
 happen to score I shall owe it to you. If we do 
 win, the honour belongs to us all/' 
 
 I had already grown ashamed of my weakness. 
 " If we win, Daly," I exclaimed impulsively, " and 
 if you make a big score, I shall be just as happy as 
 if I were playing myself." 
 
 "Dear old fellow, it is like you to say that," 
 Daly murmured, as we turned into the excited 
 hurly-burly of the dressing-room. 
 
 On the next day, as Daly and Martin were re- 
 serving themselves, I did not visit the College 
 Park, but went down to the boat-club for a spurt 
 on the river instead. I came back to College just 
 in time to dress for Commons. Outside the dining- 
 hall a group of men were standing, their faces as 
 grave as though their country's fate hung in 
 the balance. 
 
 "Hello, O'Grady!" one of them cried to me, 
 as I approached ; " have you heard the news ? " 
 
 " What news ? " I asked, with a readily quickened 
 interest. 
 
 " Devilish bad. Thompson has strained a sinew 
 
AN inter-Varsity cricket match 115 
 
 in his leg, and won't be able to play to-morrow. 
 It's too bad." 
 
 " Whom have they chosen instead of him ? " 
 I spoke with difficulty, for my heart seemed to 
 be in my mouth. 
 
 "Nobody as yet; but I believe they're having 
 a meeting after Commons to fill his place." 
 
 My head was in a whirl when I entered the 
 Hall. It is hard to be young and not to be gene- 
 rous. I strove to be sorry for Thompson's ill- 
 luck, and I think I had partly succeeded, when, 
 as we were leaving the Hall, Daly rushed up to me 
 and exclaimed in a whisper, "O'Grady, come to 
 my rooms after nine to-night. I may have good 
 news for you ; but don't be too sanguine." 
 
 I knew very well what he meant. Thompson's 
 misfortune was my opportunity. I went into the 
 smoking-room of the Philosophical, lit my pipe, 
 and tried to read the newspapers; but I was too 
 excited and too occupied with my OAvn fate to find 
 interest or distraction in the fate of others. When 
 Bobs lounged in with his placid air of lazy content- 
 ment, I carried him off to my rooms, having bribed 
 him to chmb my stairs with the promise of coffee 
 and a petit verve of cognac. But Bobs, the coffee 
 and cognac notwithstanding, proved a dull com- 
 
ii6 o'grady of trinity 
 
 panion, and as soon as I heard the bell for 
 night-roll I started up and hurried over to 
 Daly's rooms. I knocked at the door with a 
 trembling hand and entered. With Daly were 
 Martin and our captain, Wilson, a gigantic Wyke- 
 hamist. I saw at once by their faces that the 
 decision had been in my favour, and scarcely 
 needed the assurance of their hearty congratu- 
 lations. I had been chosen to play for the 
 'Varsity in Thompson's place. 
 
 After breakfast next morning I sent a telegram 
 to my uncle to tell him of my good luck. I met 
 Thompson limping across the quad on an im- 
 provised crutch. He was quite cheerful about his 
 mishap, and was generous enough to say that it 
 was all in the interests of the 'Varsity. As for 
 himself, he would be quite as happy looking on 
 as if he were playing. 
 
 The day was cloudless, and the pitch in perfect 
 order. Outside the boundary ropes crowds of 
 spectators, mostly collegians, lined the ground, 
 some on seats under the shade of the trees, others 
 stretched on rugs on the grassy bank. 
 
 Wilson won the toss, and the Oxford men took 
 the field amidst loud cheers. A few minutes later 
 Wilson and Martin followed, and were greeted 
 
AN inter-Varsity cricket match 117 
 
 with another burst of applause as they took their 
 places at the wickets. 
 
 Wilson faced the bowling, and a deep, almost 
 painful silence fell on the spectators as the captain 
 played the first ball. The bowling was good, and 
 dead on the wicket, and off the first over no score 
 was made. Martin batted with his usual ease and 
 confidence. He was the first to score with a hard, 
 low cut between point and slip, which reached the 
 boundary. After this runs came slowly but surely, 
 both batsmen playing cautiously, for bowling and 
 fielding were too good to allow of any unwarrant- 
 able liberties being taken. 
 
 I watched the play from the steps of the pavilion, 
 sitting beside Daly, who, padded and gloved, waited 
 to fill the first vacancy. The decades began to go 
 up on the telegraph-board more rapidly now, and 
 several changes in the bowling were tried. At 80 
 Wilson made a miss-hit, and was caught easily in 
 the slips for a faultless 45. The applause Avhich 
 followed the retiring batsman to the pavilion burst 
 out anew when Daly entered the field and faced 
 the last ball of the over. But it was enough. 
 
 For a moment we did not know what had hap- 
 pened ; then as Daly returned to the pavilion in a 
 silence very different from the applause which had 
 
ii8 o'grady of trinity 
 
 greeted him a moment before, we saw that the off 
 bail of his wicket had been removed. The loss of 
 Daly was a severe blow to us; but we had still 
 some good bats to follow, and Martin was well set. 
 The next wicket put on 20 runs, and brought up 
 the century ; but when we had lost seven wickets 
 for 160, things were looking gloomy enough, 
 although Martin was still at the wickets. The 
 Clongownian had completely collared the bowling, 
 and was beginning to score faster, but he was poorly 
 supported, and when I went in nine wickets had 
 fallen for 180. Wilson advised me to try to keep 
 my wicket up, and leave the scoring to Martin ; 
 so I played every ball that was on the wicket, 
 and only attempted the safest hits. 
 
 By a rather lucky snick which reached the 
 boundary I sent up the second century, and the 
 burst of cheering which greeted the figures showed 
 that the spirits of the onlookers were reviving. 
 The next ball I cut for 4, and I had already 
 become quite comfortable. I forgot Wilson's in- 
 junction, to keep my wicket up, and leave the 
 scoring to Martin. I began to despise the bowling 
 and to hit out. The bowler humoured me, and 
 after I had made two or three big hits, and was 
 becoming ambitious of making a good score, sue- 
 
AN INTER- VaESITY CRICKET MATCH II9 
 
 ceeded in having me caught in the long field. The 
 innings closed for 215, of which I had made 17. 
 Martin carried out his bat for an almost flawless 
 innings of 84. 
 
 Oxford started badly enough. A left-handed 
 catch by Daly off Brown's bowling dismissed their 
 captain for 5. But the next wicket gave us plenty 
 of trouble, and the hundred had just been tele- 
 graphed when Kennedy dissolved an expensive 
 partnership with a puzzling break from leg. An 
 hour and a half later the second century was 
 hoisted ; and when play closed for the day, Oxford 
 were 20 runs to the good with five wickets still in 
 hand. Brown and Kennedy had each secured two 
 wickets, and Daly one. 
 
 Twice I had been tried, but without effect. What 
 made it the more aggravating was the knowledge 
 that I was bowling much below the form which 
 I had shown for several weeks before, and which 
 had given me my place in the Eleven. 
 
 " I'm afraid I have done very little to justify my 
 selection," I said to Daly, as we were leaving the 
 field. 
 
 " Never mind, old fellow," he replied ; " if your 
 bowling didn't come off, your batting certainly did. 
 Wilson thinks you've done your duty so far very 
 
120 
 
 o'grady of teinity 
 
 well. How would you feel if you had lost your 
 wicket for o, and before you had played a single 
 ball? But thanks to the glorious uncertainty of 
 cricket, the game is never lost till it is won. 
 Cricket has no moral victories." 
 
 On the next day this uncertainty was exempli- 
 fied. The batsman who had defied all our efforts 
 the day before, fell an easy victim to Brown with- 
 out adding to his previous score, and the innings 
 closed for 286, Oxford having an advantage of 71 
 on the first innings. 
 
 After a short interval, during which the pitch 
 was swept and rolled, the Oxonians again took the 
 field. The crowd of spectators had greatly in- 
 creased, and the gay frocks and varicoloured sun- 
 shades of the ladies — many of whom wore Dublin 
 colours, and some few the dark blue of Oxford — 
 with the red coats of the mihtary bandsmen, made 
 the scene a brilliant one. 
 
 Wilson and Martin opened the Dublin batting. 
 For half- an -hour the play was slow, the runs 
 coming mostly in singles. At 20 the captain's leg 
 stump was knocked out of the ground, and Wilson 
 retired with 1 2 to his credit. Daly again filled the 
 vacancy, and was cheered as he went to the wicket. 
 
 He opened with a long drive to the pavilion for 
 
AN inter-Varsity cricket match 121 
 
 4, and his supporters gave vent to their relief 
 and joy by clapping enthusiastically. The next 
 ball he cut for the same amount, and the last ball 
 of the over he lifted to leg over the trees into the 
 Wilderness, thus making 12 off the first over. A 
 change of bowling was tried ; but still the decades 
 went up rapidly, Daly doing most of the scoring. 
 A great burst of cheering welcomed the announce- 
 ment that the deficit had been wiped off. 
 
 The century went up a quarter of an hour later ; 
 but when ten runs more had been added, Martin 
 was caught low down in the slips for 42, made with- 
 out having given a chance. Kennedy joined Daly, 
 and the score still rose rapidly. At lunch time the 
 total was 130; Daly 50, and Kennedy 10. When 
 play was resumed, in spite of several changes, runs 
 came freely. Daly treated all bowling alike, and 
 it did our hearts good to see his long, low drives to 
 the off — his favourite stroke. The second century 
 was registered, and a few runs later Kennedy was 
 bowled for a good 30, Daly having made 98. 
 Brown filled the vacancy, and things sloAved do^vn 
 a bit. 
 
 We were all anxious that Daly should make his 
 century, and his own anxiety seemed to make him 
 nervous. Several overs he played without scoring. 
 
122 
 
 o'geady of trinity 
 
 and twice the ball got past his bat dangerously 
 close to the wicket ; but a full pitch to leg which 
 he sent, amidst tremendous applause, in which our 
 opponents generously joined, over the boundary 
 for 4, carried him safely over the century, and he 
 continued batting with all his former freedom. 
 Brown left after putting on 20, and a few minutes 
 before the bell rang, Daly was bowled off his pads 
 for a magnificent score of 160. A scene of almost 
 indescribable enthusiasm greeted him as he re- 
 tired, the band starting up "See the Conquering 
 Hero Comes," as Daly hurried, blushing with pride 
 and modesty, into the welcome obscurity of the 
 pavilion. 
 
 After Commons he was seized by a number of 
 enthusiasts and carried round the quads, being 
 rescued with difficulty by the other members of 
 the team. 
 
 The innings closed next day for 320, of Avhich 
 I got 5 not out, and Oxford had 250 to make to 
 win. It seemed at one time as if they would easily 
 do it. They had made 200 for five wickets, the 
 captain being 80 not out, and apparently well set ; 
 but in cricket the odds are always on the side 
 which has the runs in hand. After a consultation 
 with Daly, Wilson gave inc another chance to 
 
AN INTER- VAESITY CRICKET MATCH 1 23 
 
 bowl, and with my first ball I knocked the Oxford 
 captain's leg stump out of the ground. With the 
 last ball of the over I got the new-comer caught 
 by Martin at the wicket, amid tremendous excite- 
 ment. The next wicket fell to Brown, the total 
 score being 210, and there was only half-an-hour 
 left. Would the two remaining wickets be good 
 enough for 40 more, or would they be able to last 
 till call of time ? 
 
 Five runs later another wicket fell to Brown. 
 The telegraph-board now showed the figures 215 — 
 9 — 3. The excitement had become intense. With 
 almost quixotic punctuality the last man took his 
 place at the wicket. Little more than fifteen 
 minutes was left. Would they try to keep up 
 their wickets and save the match ? But no ; the 
 last comer was determined to have a merry life, 
 even if it was to be a short one. 
 
 My first ball he lifted into the flower-beds 
 alongside the Engineering School, the next he 
 drove to the on for 3, the third went off his 
 pads for 3, and the over was altogether an 
 expensive one. But if we could get his mcket 
 before time expired, Ave did not mind losing 
 a few runs. Our men fielded and saved runs 
 as if their lives depended on it; but still the 
 
124 o'grady of trinity 
 
 runs came, and it looked as if Oxford might win 
 the match after all. At five minutes to six o'clock 
 240 went up. I took the ball from Brown, feeling 
 as if all my future hopes depended on the over. 
 The first two balls were played, the third was hit 
 for a single, the last was returned hard to me. I 
 scarcely knew what had happened — a great cry 
 rose up all round me, and caps were thrown in the 
 air; then I was seized and hoisted on Wilson's 
 shoulders and carried amidst cheers to the pavilion, 
 still holding the ball in my hand. 
 We had won by eight runs. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 COLLEGE LADY DAY 
 
 The Oxford men dined with us in Hall, and 
 finished up the evening in Wilson's rooms with 
 songs and complimentary speeches on both sides. 
 Wilson proposed the health of the Dark Blue 
 Captain, and paid him and his team a well- 
 deserved compliment for their sportsman-like con- 
 duct. When they had it in their power, he said, 
 to save the match, they had preferred, for the 
 honour and glory of cricket, to play for victory 
 or defeat. Dublin was no less proud of her 
 victory because she owed it to the magnanimity 
 of Oxford. 
 
 And so, after many pleasant speeches and 
 copious libations to our common gods, we went 
 from the somewhat garish light of Wilson's rooms 
 out into the sunshine, while the thrushes m the 
 New Square lifted up their voices and sang a p^ean 
 of triumph. 
 
 For the next few days I was busy sendmg 
 125 
 
126 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 tickets for the College Races, and invitations to 
 afternoon-tea to my friends in the country, in 
 fulfilment of promises long since made. I was 
 fain also to ask the Colquhouns ; but I refrained, 
 concluding that Martin, or even Eyre, had a prior 
 claim for the honour of their company by reason 
 of his longer acquaintance. 
 
 Absorbed as I had been in the cricket match 
 and its issue, I found opportunity withal to 
 search and search in vain for Bertha Colquhoun 
 amongst the little crowds of fair women who 
 wore our colours. It took somewhat from my 
 pride that she had not been present to witness 
 the last act in the drama, although she could 
 scarce fail to hear of the part which I had played 
 in it. 
 
 With a sigh of relief, I was addressing the last 
 envelope, when Daly came into my room and 
 threw himself dejectedly into a chair, exclaiming, 
 in accents of despair, ^/Xe, Moopo^ fie fcreivec 
 
 " I suppose you refer to our worthy and beloved 
 Tutor ? " I said, laughing at Daly's comical look of 
 distress. 
 
 " Yes ; but worthy and beloved no longer. I 
 never knew a man so full of guile and deceit." 
 
COLLEGE LADY DAY 12/ 
 
 " Come, Daly, you're humbugging," I said. " Dr. 
 Moore full of guile and deceit ! It's too absurd ! " 
 
 " Give me a glass of beer, 0' Grady, and thus 
 fortified I will to you a tale unfold which will 
 destroy for ever your belief in human nature." 
 
 Daly drank his beer, and proceeded to the story 
 of Dr. Moore's perfidy. 
 
 " A few days ago, just as I was finishing my 
 breakfast, Davil ushered in to me a lady and a 
 youth. 0 my dear O'Grady, such a youth ! 
 Picture to yourself a long lanky boy with a nose 
 like a bill-hook and a complete absence of chin, 
 goggle eyes blinking through spectacles, a shock 
 head, and a most noblemanly stoop beginning from 
 the base of his spine. There you have the picture. 
 Well, the lady — a Mrs. Latouche, by the way — 
 informed me that her son was coming to live in 
 Trinity, and that she was anxious to find a suitable 
 chum for him, and hearing that I was lookmg out 
 for a chum, she wished her boy to live with me. 
 
 "I attempted to explain, with as much deU- 
 cacy as possible, that I was not in want of a 
 chum, but this only provoked a recital of the 
 lad's virtues from his mother; and if she is 
 even approximately right, there's precious Httle 
 chance of the lad developing a few redeeming 
 
128 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 vices. Her boy was of a quiet and retiring dis- 
 position, and a regular attendant at Chapel, as 
 regular as I was, she said. Oh, ye gods! Dr. 
 Moore had strongly recommended me, and she 
 went on to tell me how much touched she had 
 been by Dr. Moore's story of my distress that the 
 Dean should accuse me of neglecting Chapel. She 
 concluded by saying that she could never be 
 suflficiently grateful for Dr. Moore's kindness and 
 thoughtfulness in recommending her such a suit- 
 able companion for her boy." 
 
 Although I was really sorry for Daly, I could not 
 help laughing. " Your sins have found you out at 
 last, Daly," I exclaimed. " Old Moore has only 
 repeated, with unfortunately too great accuracy, 
 your own description of yourself. You can't com- 
 plain if you find yourself hoist with your own 
 petard." 
 
 " It's the low cunning and duplicity of old Moore 
 that I mind the most." 
 
 "Well, but young Mr. Latouche may not come 
 after all," I suggested. "In the meantime, his 
 mother may interview the Dean, and then you 
 will be saved." 
 
 " No, it's too late now. I got a letter from Mrs. 
 Latouche this morning, saying that Dr. Moore had 
 
COLLEGE LADY DAY 1 29 
 
 secured half my rooms for her boy, and enclosing 
 a tract on the sin of drunkenness. The lad is to 
 arrive next term." 
 
 "Why didn't you go and see Moore before he 
 made the application and stop him ? " 
 
 " That's the worst of it. I was so busy with one 
 thing and another that I forgot all about it. Of 
 course I'll clear out next term and get rooms 
 somewhere else." 
 
 "My dear boy, you are morally bound to look 
 after your young protege, and justify old Moore's 
 high opinion of you. And, seriously, if the youth 
 is anything like what you describe, he'll save you 
 the trouble, and clear out himself when he finds, 
 as he certainly will, the atmosphere of your rooms 
 uncongenial. There's no use counting your chicken 
 before he's hatched." 
 
 " But he's as hatched as he'll ever be." 
 
 "Well, then, your egg before it's laid," I cor- 
 rected, laughing. 
 
 " I know you mean well, O'Grady," Daly replied 
 gloomily; "but metaphors are the last resort of 
 those who have no arguments. Pray leave them 
 to the theologians." 
 
 "Will you come to Howth and have a swim 
 this afternoon ? " I asked, as Daly was going out. 
 
 I 
 
130 o'grady of trinity 
 
 " I can't, old fellow. I've got an engagement for 
 the afternoon ; but 111 see you after Commons." 
 
 I looked forward to the day of the College Races 
 with somewhat mixed feelings. In the result of 
 the races I took but little interest, partly because 
 none of my intimate friends was amongst the com- 
 petitors, and partly, I suppose, because the greater 
 — in my eyes at least — event of the 'Varsity cricket 
 match had dwarfed the lesser. 
 
 But College Lady Day, as Martin not inaptly if 
 somewhat irreverently described it, depended for 
 its success not so much on the making and break- 
 ing of records as on that very variable quantity, 
 to wit, good weather. 
 
 For how shall a damsel smile sweetly or pout 
 prettily if Jupiter Pluvius have bereft her locks of 
 their curls, and her frocks of their grace ? If her 
 dainty French shoes sink deep in the mud of the 
 College Park, she may indeed answer your gallant 
 speeches with a smile ; but if she does, she smiles 
 a^ekdaT(p irpoad^irfp, with her thoughts not on you 
 or on your pretty speeches, but on her bedraggled 
 gown, and the indignity which the rain has caused 
 her undeserving sunshade. 
 
 But not even the most hardened pessimist could 
 find fault with the day when it came with a cloud- 
 
COLLEGE LADY DAY I3I 
 
 less sky, and a soft west wind to temper the heat of 
 the sun. I decked my rooms with flowers which 
 my aunt had sent me from home. I surveyed my 
 first attempt at decoration with satisfaction that 
 was, however, tinged with disappointment, because 
 she who to me was fairer than any rose should not 
 be there to rival them. 
 
 Then, with a sudden impulse, I took out of my 
 cupboard a little lily-shaped Venetian glass, and 
 poured water into it. I selected a few Cloth-of-gold 
 rosebuds — she had worn Cloth-of-gold roses in her 
 girdle when I had met her first — and placing them 
 in it, I set the tiny vase in the centre of the table. 
 This I would do in her honour, though she should 
 never know it. 
 
 I had scarcely set the rosebuds on the table 
 when my uncle entered the room. 
 
 "Hello, Hubert," he exclaimed, as he shook 
 hands with me, "this room smells like a bridal 
 chamber. In my time it would have smelt of 
 tobacco." 
 
 "Perhaps you had no good aunt to send j^ou 
 flowers," I replied, feeling my face flush guiltily ; 
 and fearing lest my uncle might indulge in any 
 further speculation as to the arrangement of the 
 flowers, I eagerly offered him some claret-cup, of 
 
132 , o'grady of trinity 
 
 which I had made several gallons, besides procur- 
 ing innumerable cakes and biscuits, such as are 
 dear to the feminine palate. But he refused my 
 claret-cup somewhat contemptuously, and invited 
 me to go to the Burlington for lunch, which 
 I did. 
 
 When we returned to College, the rather gloomy- 
 looking quadrangles were thronged with a gaily- 
 dressed crowd of youths and maidens, under the 
 more or less effective protection of their chap- 
 erons, passing through Library Square, New 
 Square, into the Wilderness, and from thence 
 through the gate to the Park. 
 
 My uncle stopped to speak to an old College 
 friend, and I left them both comparing the past 
 advantageously with the present, and joined the 
 crowd. At the pavilion I overtook Martin, who 
 asked me if I had seen his aunt ; she had 
 promised to preside at his tea-table for him. I 
 volunteered to help him to find her, in the hope 
 of finding the Colquhouns with her, for Martin 
 had told me that they had promised to come to 
 his rooms to tea. 
 
 We found Mrs. Martin near one band-stand, 
 talking and laughing with a little crowd of men 
 and women. 
 
COLLEGE LADY DAY I33 
 
 " Phil, have you heard the news ? " she exclaimed, 
 as we came up. 
 
 " No ; what news ? Has some one died and left 
 me the wherewithal to indulge my simple tastes 
 at leisure ? " 
 
 " Nothing of the kind. It's about Charlie Jeph- 
 son. He's going to be married." 
 
 "Humph!" rejoined her imperturbable nephew. 
 " I wish he was going to pay me the fiver he 
 borrowed from me last Christmas." 
 
 "I thought you would have been interested to 
 hear it. I suppose you will be getting engaged 
 next," Mrs. Martin went on. 
 
 Phil assumed a tragic look. "My heart is en- 
 gaged already, but, alas ! my hand can never be." 
 
 "Dear me, is it so serious as that?" the lady 
 asked, laughing. "Why, Phil, what is the diffi- 
 culty ? " 
 
 "Well, you see," Martin answered gloomily, 
 "without an Act of Parliament or a dispensation 
 or something of the kind, a man can't marry his 
 aunt." 
 
 Mrs. Martin blushed with pleasure, and assumed 
 indignation at the compliment. 
 
 "You naughty boy," she exclaimed, "you are 
 quite incurable." 
 
134 o'geady of tbinity 
 
 ''Alas, quite!" Phil replied, with a sigh, as I 
 left him. 
 
 For the next two hours I was fully occupied 
 escorting my friends in batches of three and four 
 to my rooms for refreshments, and then returning 
 with them to the Park. My uncle, who had pro- 
 mised to help me, had basely disappeared, and I 
 had to depend altogether on Devirs imperfect aid. 
 I grew weary enough after a time, for the after- 
 noon was warm, and my rooms, despite the open 
 window, were like a forcing-house. Although I 
 was in the best of training, I had begun to feel 
 the effects of the warm weather, and the fatigue 
 of perpetually climbing the seventy-two steps to 
 my rooms. 
 
 I fulfilled my obligations as host as speedily as 
 was consistent with courtesy, in the hope of finding 
 an opportunity of speaking with Bertha Colquhoun 
 before she left, if she had not already left. 
 
 Mary Barton, a pretty brown-eyed maid who 
 lived near my uncle's house at Ballycory, and 
 with whom I had often ridden to hounds and 
 danced, and her brother, a lanky youth in the 
 Midland Militia, for whom I entertained a pro- 
 found contempt, were my last guests. 
 
 As I was leaving the Park with them, suddenly 
 
COLLEGE LADY DAY 1 35 
 
 I saw a sight which made me forget Miss Barton's 
 merry prattle about country dances and tennis 
 parties. I forgot, too, that she was very pretty, 
 and that none rode straighter to hounds than 
 she. I was oUivious of everything, save that my 
 uncle was deeply engaged in conversation with 
 Bertha Colquhoun. 
 
 Whatever may have been the subject of it, it 
 was sufficiently absorbing to prevent their noticing 
 me, although I passed close enough to them to 
 hear a low ripple of laughter from the girl, which 
 made my heart beat fast with envy and longing. 
 I suppose I proved but a dull host, for Miss 
 Barton, to her brother's evident surprise, suddenly 
 remembered that she had an engagement, and 
 leaving her tea unfinished, shook hands very 
 coldly with me and departed. I was consoling 
 myself with a glass of claret-cup when I heard 
 my uncle's voice, from the stair, as he explained 
 to some one what an ass his nephew was to live 
 in such an eagle's nest. 
 
 " Hubert," he exclaimed, as he ushered in Mrs. 
 Colquhoun and her daughter, " I persuaded these 
 ladies to come and see your rooms, and Heaven 
 forgive me for inducing them to undergo such 
 penance." 
 
136 o'grady of trinity 
 
 I murmured something grateful about the 
 honour they did me as I shook hands with my 
 new guests. 
 
 " I knew your father, Mr. O'Grady," Mrs. Colqu- 
 houn said, in a sweet voice which trembled a little, 
 and I thought I could detect moisture in her soft 
 eyes as she looked earnestly at me. " Long ago I 
 knew your father when we were both young. My 
 daughter told me she had met a Mr. O'Grady at 
 Mrs. Martin's dance, but I did not know it was 
 the same until Colonel O'Grady mentioned you 
 to-day. You are very like your father." 
 
 My head was reeling with pleasure at this un- 
 expected good fortune: what I answered I know 
 not, but I had a confused sense of silently calling 
 down blessings on my uncle's head. 
 
 While he and Mrs. Colquhoun talked about 
 old times, the latter emphasising his or her own 
 reminiscences with a little sigh, I turned to Bertha, 
 who had been examining the adornments of my 
 room with much interest. I scarce remember 
 what we talked about; it seemed afterwards like 
 a delicious and unreal dream. Only one incident 
 I can recall. 
 
 Bertha noticed my little group of roses which I 
 had placed in her honour. 
 
COLLEGE LADY DAY 1 37 
 
 " Oh, how lovely they are," she exclaimed ; " and 
 they are my favourite flowers." 
 
 " Pray take them," I said, with clumsy eagerness. 
 She opened her lips to protest ; but I took the roses 
 from the vase and gave them to her, repeating, 
 " Pray take them. I put them there for you." 
 
 " For me ! " she half echoed, and then suddenly 
 stopped, and with deepening colour fixed the rose- 
 buds in her bosom. 
 
 Mrs. Colquhoun stood up to leave. 
 
 " Come, my dear," she said, " we must not make 
 too great demands on Mr. O'Grady's kindness, and 
 we shall have just time to catch our train comfort- 
 ably." Then turning to me, she continued in her 
 soft, motherly voice, which made me fancy I must 
 have known her all my life, " Colonel O'Grady has 
 been telling me how good you are. I am so glad 
 to meet you." 
 
 I felt myself blushing to the roots of my hair. 
 
 It is embarrassing to be accused of virtue at 
 twenty. 
 
 I stammered some incoherent reply as she shook 
 hands with me. 
 
 "We shall be at home on Thursday, and shall 
 be glad if you will come and have tea with us in 
 the afternoon, and play a game of tennis." 
 
138 o'grady of trinity 
 
 I had intended going down on the next Tues- 
 day, but I did not say so. Instead, I promised 
 to come with great readiness. My uncle looked 
 at me with a half-smile. 
 
 " Why, boy," he remarked, " I thought you were 
 coming home with me. You said you would this 
 morning.'' 
 
 " Yes, I thought so then," I answered, with some 
 confusion ; " but I find that I have so many things 
 to do that I can't leave until next week." 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 love's young dream 
 
 The bustle and excitement which brought the 
 term to a close was succeeded by a deathlike 
 stillness. For several days after the College Races, 
 old Trinity gave itself up to mirth and revelry. 
 Night and day the quadrangles re-echoed with 
 songs and laughter, unrestrained by the warning 
 presence of the Dean, who benevolently turned 
 his head away, and, perchance, shed a tear to the 
 memory of the lost days of his youth when his 
 voice, too, had helped to make the welkin ring. 
 
 The stream of jaunting-cars which flowed rapidly 
 through the College gates grew gradually thinner 
 and slower, while the crowd of those who cried 
 "God speed" to their departing comrades, some 
 of whom were leaving the hospitable shelter of 
 alTYia mater never to return, was every hour be- 
 coming smaller, until at last Trinity seemed like 
 a great inanimate skeleton out of which had gone 
 
 the quickness of life and the vigour of youth. As 
 
 139 
 
140 o'grady of trinity 
 
 I watched the last car leave with its human 
 freight, I felt — 
 
 " Like one 
 
 Who treads alone 
 Some banquet-hall deserted, 
 
 Whose lights are fled, 
 
 Whose garlands dead, 
 And all but he departed ! " 
 
 The loneliness was oppressive, and as I wandered 
 through the deserted quadrangles, bathed in the 
 mid-day sun, I half expected to come face to face 
 with a ghost at every corner. 
 
 I was often strongly tempted to pack my port- 
 manteau, and catch the first train for Ballycory 
 and home; but I banished the thought instantly 
 when I remembered that the Thursday which was 
 to bring me again into the presence of Bertha 
 Colquhoun was surely, if slowly, drawing near. I 
 might still have played cricket, but with the end 
 of the 'Varsity season I seemed to have, for the 
 time at least, lost my interest in that best of 
 games. 
 
 Instead, I went out to Howth every day after 
 breakfast. There, after a glorious swim in the 
 deep blue-green waters which encircle the hill, I 
 lay on the heather, watching with half-closed eyes 
 the white sails of the yachts in the distance, and 
 
love's young dream 141 
 
 dreamed of Bertha Colquhoun and of her beauty. 
 The evenings I spent smoking and reading in 
 the rooms of the Phil, as we called the Philo- 
 sophical Debating Society. I was surprised at the 
 amount of knowledge which I amassed of local 
 and imperial matters when I had sifted the 
 journalistic wheat from the chaff. 
 
 But a watched pot does boil eventually, though 
 none the faster for the watching, and at last the 
 long-desired Thursday came. 
 
 I dressed myself with infinite pains and care, 
 and over my spotless flannels I donned my newly 
 acquired blazer with the University arms em- 
 broidered in gold thereon. It was perhaps a 
 pardonable piece of vanity, as I had only just 
 acquired the right to wear it. My skip. Devil, was 
 much impressed by my appearance, and remarked, 
 as he helped me to put on a light overcoat, that 
 I was like a bridegroom going to his wedding, and 
 the simile, although it may not have been a perfect 
 one, pleased me well. 
 
 Mrs. Colquhoun's dwelling was a delightful old 
 place, half manor, half farm-house, and some little 
 distance from the main road. Wlien I recalled 
 afterwards the instructions, as confusing as those 
 of Launcelot Gobbo, which I drew from a stone- 
 
142 o'geady of trinity 
 
 breaker whom I wakened out of his slumber to 
 direct me, I felt sure that an invisible guide had 
 led me into the right path. 
 
 There were few visitors when I arrived. I was 
 glad of it. On the lawn under an old oak-tree, 
 Mrs. Colquhoun poured out tea for us, while 
 Bertha made a most bewitching Phoebe in her 
 white serge tennis frock with a rose at her neck. 
 
 The only male present besides myself was a 
 military-looking, bronze-faced man of middle age, 
 who was introduced to me as Captain Lang, and 
 who said he had known my uncle in India. He 
 seemed devoted to Mrs. Colquhoun, and kept up 
 a running fire of compliments to Bertha and the 
 other ladies, which seemed to give himself, at all 
 events, great satisfaction, for he laughed with 
 hearty and undisguised enjoyment of every one 
 of them. 
 
 He was evidently prepared to like me, for he 
 congratulated me on my bowling against Oxford, 
 told me that he was captain of the local Eleven, 
 and invited me to come and have a day's fishing 
 with him whenever I liked, which I promised very 
 readily to do. He then plunged into a long dis- 
 sertation on fishing-rods and flies, which Bertha 
 fortunately interrupted by inviting liim to bo her 
 
love's young dream 143 
 
 partner in a set of tennis against me and Miss 
 Edith Carroll, a pretty tomboy with a black close- 
 cropped head, who seemed delightedly confident of 
 winning the game. 
 
 But she was doomed to disappointment. I played 
 so badly that I quite deserved my partner's sarcastic 
 question at the end of the game — if this was the 
 first time I had ever played tennis. I was guiltily 
 conscious that my thoughts had been more of the 
 beauty and graceful motion of Bertha Colquhoun 
 than of victory. My partner's mortification at 
 losing it brought me to my senses. 
 
 Fortunately for my reputation, Captain Lang had a 
 kind heart, if he had but little knowledge of tennis. 
 
 " Never mind," my dear boy," he said, patting 
 me consolingly on the shoulder ; " you'll play 
 tennis very well some day, but you'll need a lot of 
 practice. Now, just play a game alone with me, 
 and I'll give you a few hints that you'll find useful 
 to you." 
 
 I could scarce refrain from smiling at the cap- 
 tain's simplicity. I was about to thank him and 
 refuse, when I saw, or thought I saw, a little shade 
 of disappointment pass over Bertha's face. I was 
 satisfied that she should win at my expense, but I 
 was too young to allow Captain Lang to suppose 
 
144 o'grady of trinity 
 
 that it was his play which had vanquished me. I 
 instantly accepted his challenge, and determined, 
 with a want of generosity which made me feel 
 ashamed afterwards, to give him no chance of 
 winning — if I could help it. I was not a good 
 player, but a child could have beaten the simple- 
 minded captain, and I won the game to love. 
 
 At this conclusion Miss Carroll clapped her hands, 
 but Bertha looked distressed and said nothing. I 
 would have given worlds to play the game over 
 again with a different result, but it was too late. 
 I felt wretched until I had an opportunity of 
 explaining to Bertha why I had been so remorse- 
 less, especially as the captain took his beating so 
 well. 
 
 When we went round to the stables to look at her 
 pony, I found an opportunity of telling her that if 
 I had been ungenerous it was because I could not 
 bear to have her think me despicable, even in such 
 an unimportant matter as tennis; and although 
 she made no reply, I could see from her downcast 
 eyes and deepened colour that she understood, and 
 with understanding had come forgiveness. When 
 we returned to the tennis-ground, the other guests, 
 with the exception of Miss Carroll, who was staying 
 on a visit with the Colquhouns, and Captain Lang, 
 
love's young dream 145 
 
 were already taking their leave. I felt that the 
 time had come for me also to say good-bye. 
 
 Alas, that the hours had flown so fast ! 
 
 When I came to Mrs. Colquhoun to say farewell, 
 to my great delight she suggested that I should 
 stay and dine with them. I concealed my eager- 
 ness by making a conventional protest against 
 appearing at dinner in tennis costume, but Mrs. 
 Colquhoun laughed. 
 
 " We are country folk, Mr. O'Grady, and we need 
 not stand on ceremony. That is the privilege of 
 our rusticity. I promised your uncle to look after 
 you while you are in Dublin, and I will — that is, 
 of course, if you will let me," she said, with a 
 smile. 
 
 " It is awfully kind of you, Mrs. Colquhoun," I 
 replied, with some emotion. " I don't know why 
 you are so good to me ; I can hardly believe that 
 until a few days ago we were strangers." 
 
 "You must not think yourself a stranger any 
 more. Your father was a very dear friend of mine, 
 long, long ago, when we were both young, and for 
 his sake his son will always be dear to me," the 
 lady said very softly, and, I fancied, a little sadly 
 too. I did not know what to reply, but the tinkle 
 of the dinner-bell came pleasantly across the lawn 
 
 K 
 
146 o'grady of trinity 
 
 and relieved me from my feeling of awkwardness. 
 We went towards the house, followed by the two 
 girls and Captain Lang, who seemed to be relating 
 some excellent anecdote to them, to judge from 
 the peals of laughter which broke from their lips 
 every moment. 
 
 Captain Lang seemed to be a kind of Johannes 
 Factotum of the Colquhoun establishment. As a 
 matter of course, he remained to dinner, and took 
 charge of me with a kindness which showed no 
 trace of resentment. After dinner we exchanged 
 cigars; and while we sat smoking under the 
 verandah, before going to the drawing-room for 
 tea, he talked of my uncle, and told me stories 
 of his life in the army. 
 
 But all things, save sorrow, come to an end, and 
 last trains have a way of being punctual when one 
 depends on them to be late. I stood up to make 
 my grateful adieux to my hostess, promising to 
 come again as soon as I returned to College. 
 
 Captain Lang volunteered to accompany me to 
 the end of the avenue, so as to give me my final 
 instructions as to the way to the railway station. 
 
 " May we come too, captain ?" Miss Carroll asked, 
 looking up coquettishly at the veteran. " Come 
 along. Bertha." 
 
^ ^ love's young dream 147 
 
 " Take care you don't catch cold, children." Mrs. 
 Colquhoun came after them as we went out into 
 the soft June twilight. 
 
 Captain Lang and Miss Carroll went on ahead, 
 while I followed lingeringly behind with Bertha. 
 
 " What shall you do when you go home ? " my 
 companion asked me, as we came under the trees 
 of the avenue. 
 
 " Ride, dance, play tennis, and " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Dream of to-day." 
 
 She did not answer. 
 
 I went on. " Do you know why I shall dream 
 of to-day ? " 
 
 " No," she replied, in a very low voice. 
 
 " Because I think it is the happiest day of my life." 
 
 " You think, but you are not sure ? " 
 
 " If you give me the rose you are wearing, then I 
 shall be sure it is," I answered. 
 
 Without a word she took the rose from her neck 
 and gave it me. 
 
 " Bertha," I said, coming closer to her in my 
 eagerness, for we were nearing the end of the 
 avenue, "I promised Mrs. Colquhoun to come 
 again as soon as the Long is over. Do you care 
 if I do or not ? " 
 
148 o'grady of trinity 
 
 " Yes, I do care/' she replied, in a whisper. 
 " Very much ? " I persisted, for I was resolved 
 not to be cheated one whit of my happiness. 
 " Very much." 
 
 I seized her hand and pressed it passionately 
 to my lips. Then the cheery voice of the captain 
 broke out on the still night air — 
 
 " Come along, my boy, or you'll be missing your 
 train, and then you'll have to stump it home, unless 
 you share my bungalow." 
 
 I could have laughed out aloud. How little he 
 knew of my disregard of the coming and going of 
 trains at that moment ! 
 
 As I hastily said good-bye. Bertha raised her 
 eyes shyly to mine, and I saw shining in them 
 what I had never seen before. 
 
 It was the dawn of love. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 VILLAGE HEROES 
 
 During my first year at the 'Varsity my reputa- 
 tion in the neighbourhood of my home, and 
 especially in Ballycory, had greatly increased. 
 Amongst the more revolutionary of the inhabi- 
 tants of Ballycory it began even to be hinted, 
 although not as yet openly expressed, that - the 
 young master of Derryrone, as they called me, 
 was just as great a scholar as young Mick Doolin, 
 now the Rev. Michael Doolin, C.C., who had lately 
 returned from Maynooth to his native town, with 
 all his blushing honours thick upon him, to assist, 
 with proud humility, the aged parish priest in his 
 parochial duties. 
 
 The young curate was, I think, not unimpressed 
 by the exaggerated reports of my intellectual 
 prowess; and when I met him a few days after 
 my return, he treated me with so much respect 
 that I read in it the acknowledgment of my char- 
 acter for learning. He was a very good fellow, 
 
 149 
 
I50 o'grady of trinity 
 
 and modest withal, in spite of the influence which 
 he possessed both as a priest and as a great 
 scholar. Of his scholarship I knew nothing ; but 
 if his Latinity was as pure as his whisky, he must 
 have been a rare scholar indeed. 
 
 I was not long in discovering that I owed much, 
 if not most, of my reputation to the imagination 
 of Tom M'Nally, my uncle's groom and general 
 handy-man — an imagination untrammelled by any 
 concessions to fact. The stories of my achieve- 
 ments which he spread abroad and vouched for, 
 pledging his word for their truth, could only be 
 justified by the avidity with which they were 
 listened to and believed. One of his stories, and 
 that, too, not much more improbable than many 
 of the others, was that the Queen of Spain had 
 been so much impressed by my wonderful attain- 
 ments that she wanted me to marry her eldest 
 daughter, and that it was still doubtful if I could 
 avoid so embarrassing an obligation. 
 
 Father Mick used to collect these stories from 
 his parishioners, and retail them to me, and many 
 a laugh we had over them together. The friend- 
 ship which sprang up between the young priest 
 and myself during the long vacation was accepted 
 as a final confirmation of the supremacy of our in- 
 
VILLAGE HEROES I51 
 
 tellects over those of ordinary mortals, although we 
 never discussed any subject more erudite than the 
 breeding of horses and dogs, or the inexhaustible 
 delights of trout-fishing, for both of us professed 
 the creed of St. Izaak. 
 
 Although his purse must have been a short one, 
 and often enough empty, his generosity, like that 
 of the rest of his class, recognised no limitations, 
 and I found it well-nigh impossible to pass his 
 door on my way home, after a day's fishing with 
 him, without going in for " a taste of the crathur," 
 as he called it, or to resist the wheedling, " Sure, 
 now, a taste of it'll do ye no harm," with which he 
 supplemented his first invitation. 
 
 Before I returned to College we made many 
 arrangements for my next vacation ; but the Fates 
 had ruled otherwise, and our plans were destined 
 never to be carried out. One dark and stormy 
 night in November, Father Doolin, while on his 
 way to visit a sick parishioner, attempted to cross 
 the swollen river by a slender foot-bridge, and 
 was carried away and drowned in the waters which 
 he had so loved, and which he knew so well. 
 
 I do not know how far I may have been influ- 
 enced by the absurd views held by my humbler 
 neighbours concerning my abilities. I am quite 
 
152 o'grady of trinity 
 
 sure, however, that they had some share in modi- 
 fying my lately conceived opinions of University 
 life. In athletics I had already taken my part and 
 won some distinction, and my place on the 'Varsity 
 Fifteen next season was practically assured. 
 
 I began, therefore, to feel dissatisfied with a 
 purely athletic record, and to long for the sweets 
 of academic triumph. I had left school with the 
 reputation of being a good classical scholar. At 
 Trinity I had done little to sustain that reputation 
 except win a few prizes, after term lectures, for 
 Latin and Greek composition. My ambition to 
 become a Scholar of Trinity, which had lain some- 
 what dormant during the storm and stress of 
 athletic contests, burst forth anew in the long and 
 rather uneventful summer days which I spent at 
 home. 
 
 I resolved to go up for a Scholarship next year, 
 and having once made my resolve, the prospect 
 became more and more fascinating. Moreover, 
 even apart from the /cOSo? of being a Scholar of 
 the House, the pecuniary value of a Scholarship 
 was considerable, and that consideration was one 
 which I was in no position to despise. 
 
 Like most other youths who find themselves 
 suddenly in the possession of considerable sums 
 
VILLAGE HEROES 1 53 
 
 of money without the appreciation of its value, 
 which only comes of experience, I had spent my 
 allowance, if not recklessly, at least incautiously. 
 The result was, that at the end of the summer 
 term I had not a few debts and hardly any cash 
 in hand. It is true that these obligations were 
 not such as to cause me much uneasiness, being, 
 indeed, money due for goods received, and not 
 what are called " debts of honour." 
 
 But although I had often laughed both with and 
 at Phil Martin for the devious devices by which 
 he temporarily appeased irate creditors, I had no 
 desire to acquire either his skill or his necessity 
 for the exercise of it. My allowance was a fairly 
 liberal one, and I did not wish to ask my uncle 
 for an increase or for additional money to pay my 
 debts. 
 
 To win a Scholarship, therefore, appeared the 
 simplest and most satisfactory way to solve the 
 difficulty. 
 
 I told Colonel O'Grady of my intention, without, 
 however, taking him wholly into my confidence as 
 to the various causes which had led up to and 
 confirmed it. 
 
 Rather to my surprise he approved very warmly. 
 He had no wish, he said, to discourage my desire 
 
154 o'grady of trinity 
 
 for reading honours, provided they were not 
 obtained at the expense of physical accomphsh- 
 ments. "I wanted you, my boy," he continued, 
 "to be strong and manly, in the first instance.. 
 After that, be as good a scholar as you can be. 
 Remember that Waterloo was won not so much 
 on the battle-field as in the playgrounds of Eton. 
 Bone and sinew and endurance have made more 
 empires than learning or skill in solving conun- 
 drums." 
 
 I made the necessity of beginning to read my 
 reason for hurrying back to College even before 
 term opened. But I had another reason. 
 
 I was impatient to see Bertha again. Exquisite 
 as was the repetition in my thoughts and dreams 
 of that night's parting, and of the confession which 
 I had drawn from her sweet, half-reluctant lips, I 
 was not satisfied to live on a memory of happiness, 
 however rapturous. I longed to be near her, to 
 breathe the same air with her, and to hear her 
 whisper shyly the confirmation of my hopes when 
 I should tell her that all my struggles and all my 
 triumphs were dedicate to her. 
 
 Then I remembered my dream of the night after 
 the boat-race, when I had seen Bertha crown Eyre's 
 victorious head with a chaplet of flowers, and a 
 
VILLAGE HEROES 155 
 
 cold chill of fear seemed to fall on my heart. In 
 a moment it was gone, but it left behind the 
 knowledge that, unless Bertha loved me, all my 
 hopes and all my triumphs would be but as Dead 
 Sea fruit. 
 
 My impatience and restlessness increased until 
 I returned to Dublin. As I passed Eyre's rooms 
 to my own I saw his outer door open. So he, too, 
 had come back. I did not care to meet him just 
 yet, so I went noiselessly up my own staircase. 
 My door was open, and when I entered my sitting- 
 room I saw Eyre sitting at the fire smoking 
 placidly, while Devil made preparations for my 
 return. 
 
 " Hello, O'Grady ! " the intruder exclaimed ; " I 
 found my own fire out, so I thought I'd come up 
 here and see that Devil did his work properly. 
 I've been sampling your whisky too, so that I 
 might be able to recommend it to you." 
 
 "Well, I hope you can," I said, feeling rather 
 annoyed at the cool confidence of my uninvited 
 guest. 
 
 " Yes, I can," he answered. " I think it's capital ; 
 and if you'll join me, I'll venture to have another 
 glass." 
 
 " That's good of you. Eyre. I don't know 
 
156 o'grady of trinity 
 
 whether I am more indebted to your kindness 
 for approving of my whisky or for looking after 
 Devil," I retorted, with somewhat obvious irony. 
 
 "My dear fellow," Eyre replied calmly, "pray 
 don't mention it. I assure you it is a pleasure to 
 me to be of service to my friends." 
 
 " Thank you. Eyre. I have no doubt as to the 
 reality of your friendship. What brought you 
 back to College so soon ? " 
 
 " For dissection. The dissecting-room has been 
 open for the last week." 
 
 " Is any one else of our lot back ? " 
 
 " No, I don't think so. Smith is here. Do you 
 know him ? " 
 
 " Yes, slightly." 
 
 "I had some fun with him. Yesterday his 
 governor arrived in Dublin. Smith asked me to 
 go with him to meet his father, and I went. As 
 we were driving down Sackville Street on the way 
 to the Shelbourne Hotel, old Smith, who by the 
 way seemed beastly uncomfortable on the side of 
 the car, grunted out, ' This hain't much of a 
 city.'" 
 
 " ' Why not ? ' I asked. 
 
 "'Well, you don't seem to 'avc any manufac- 
 tures.' 
 
VILLAGE HEROES 157 
 
 You're quite mistaken, sir/ I replied, as we 
 crossed O'Connell Bridge. ' Up there to your 
 right is the largest brewery and the finest dis- 
 tillery in the world.' 
 
 " He grunted something unintelligible, and when 
 he came in sight of Trinity asked, ' Well, and what 
 do you turn out of that place ? ' 
 
 ' Gentlemen,' said I. After that he said no 
 more until we got to the hotel. Then he asked 
 me to dine with him and his son, which I did. 
 Although both his English was bad and his man- 
 ners not much better, he knew how to dine. He 
 was not altogether destitute of taste either, for he 
 took a fancy to me and gave me his confidence. 
 By the time we had reached the cigar and coftee 
 stage, he had informed me that he was a self- 
 made man, which, indeed, was sufficiently obvious. 
 Then he proceeded to give me the history of his 
 early struggles, while young Smith listened some- 
 what uncomfortably. He concluded by sa3dng 
 that he was now the biggest drysalter in Bir- 
 mingham. 
 
 " ' Now, young man,' he continued, ' I bet you a 
 fiver you don't know what a drysalter is,' and he 
 looked at me with proud triumph. 
 
 " ' I bet you a fiver I do,' I answered promptly. 
 
158 o'grady of trinity 
 
 "He took a five-pound note from his pocket- 
 book and laid it on the table. 
 
 " ' Young man/ he said, ' that fiver is yours if 
 you guess right. What is a drysalter ? ' 
 
 " ' Tate and Brady's/ I replied at once.'' 
 
 "The reply wasn't very original, Eyre," I said, 
 laughing; "but did you convince him that you 
 had won the bet fairly ? " 
 
 " Yes, after carefully simplifying and explaining 
 the joke for upwards of an hour, with young 
 Smith's assistance. He had become a bit mellow 
 by this time, and he wanted to make it a tenner, 
 to show his appreciation of my cleverness. Finally, 
 when his son and I helped him to his bedroom, he 
 hiccupped an offer to me to become his assistant 
 in the drysalting business, and refused to let me go 
 until I promised to accept his offer. I think young 
 Smith already saw a prospect of being disinherited 
 in my favour, for he declined a hint to take me to 
 see his governor again. Are you going to dine in 
 Hall ? No ? Well, I am ; so an revoir. Alas ! one 
 cannot dine with drysalters every day/' and Eyre 
 lounged out and left me to my reflections. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 " Only, my love's away ! 
 I'd as lief that the blue were grey." 
 
 On the afternoon of the next day I set out to pay 
 my promised visit to the Colquhouns. I strode 
 rapidly along the road from the station until I 
 reached the gate of the avenue which led to the 
 house. I paused here for a few moments to recall 
 the last time I had stood at the gate. 
 
 I had told Bertha that it was the happiest day 
 of my life. Would to-day or any other day be as 
 happy ? I had read that love was a passion which 
 increased or diminished in intensity, but never 
 remained the same, and that joy in the hope of 
 possessing, pain in the fear of losing, made up the 
 ecstasies of loving. Had time, I wondered, wrought 
 in my favour or against me ? 
 
 Now that I was about to learn the best or worst, 
 
 my heart failed me, and I was craven enough half 
 
 to wish that I had been satisfied to indulge my 
 
 error, if it was an error, a little longer. But I 
 159 
 
i6o o'grady of trinity 
 
 knew that the dread of bad news never makes 
 one less eager to learn it, and with an effort I 
 cast off my hesitation and boldly approached 
 the house. 
 
 The air of loneliness and lifelessness which hung 
 about it did not reassure me. I rang the bell, and 
 listened to it as it echoed mournfully through the 
 house. An old woman opened the door, and, in 
 answer to my inquiries, said that the Colquhouns 
 were not at home. They had gone abroad for the 
 sake of Miss Bertha's health. She had been ill, 
 terribly ill, and the doctor had ordered her abroad 
 as the only chance of saving her life. She could 
 not tell when they would return. 
 
 A sudden sensation of faintness almost over- 
 whelmed me. I leaned a moment for support 
 against the doorpost ; then declining the old care- 
 taker's invitation to come in and rest for a while, 
 I descended the avenue again. At the gate I 
 paused to collect my thoughts, for I was still feel- 
 ing dazed at the suddenness of the untoward news. 
 
 My fears had been all for myself; but Bertha ill, 
 maybe dying, I had never thought of that. I 
 rested my arms on the gate, for I was still weak 
 and faint, and my heart cried out against the cruel 
 irony of fate. How different everything seemed 
 
"ONLY, MY love's AWAY ! " l6l 
 
 from that day in June a few short months ago. 
 Then in every tree the birds were singing — 
 
 " To give my love good morrow.'^ 
 
 Now my love was gone, and the birds were mute. 
 
 I do not know how long I had stood there when 
 suddenly I remembered Captain Lang. He would 
 know how Bertha was. Suspense was intolerable : 
 the relief from inaction brought me new life. 
 
 Every one in Lucan knew Captain Lang, and I 
 had no difficulty in finding The Bungalow, as he 
 called his dwelling. I was equally fortunate in 
 finding the owner of The Bungalow at home. 
 I dare say he was surprised to see me, but he 
 received me none the less heartily, if he was. 
 
 He led me into his smoking-room, and looked 
 at me for a few moments ; then he said, " You are 
 not looking well, my boy ; hope you haven't been 
 working too hard. Now, a little drop of whisky won't 
 do you any harm. This is Power's ten-year-old." 
 
 He took a decanter from a quaint old Chippen- 
 dale cellarette, and filled a glass from it. Then 
 handing me a cigar, he continued : " Now, my boy, 
 we can have a comfortable chat. How are your 
 people ? " 
 
 " They are very well, thank you, captain, but — " 
 
 L 
 
l62 
 
 o'geady of teinity 
 
 and I hesitated. Should I take Captain Lang, 
 whom I had only met once, into my confidence ? 
 " But what ? he asked. 
 
 " I called at the Colquhouns and found that they 
 were away," I went on hurriedly, "and the care- 
 taker told me that Bertha — Miss Colquhoun was ill. 
 O captain, can you tell me how she is ? " In my 
 eagerness I had risen and seized my host's arm. 
 
 " Yes, I can," he said kindly. " She. is getting on 
 very well. She caught a bad chill in the summer, 
 which turned to pneumonia, and for a time it 
 looked very serious ; but she pulled through, thank 
 God, and as soon as she was well enough her 
 mother took her abroad to escape the winter. 
 They are in Florence now. I had a letter from 
 Mrs. Colquhoun this morning, and she says Bertha 
 is quite herself again." 
 
 " Oh, I am glad," I burst out, resisting an impulse 
 to embrace the captain in my delight. " I'd give 
 my life for her. You don't know how I love her." 
 
 " Well, perhaps not," he replied, with a whimsical 
 smile ; but I had some notion of it the day you 
 gave me such a beating at tennis. No youth would 
 try to show off against a man more than twice his 
 years unless the woman he loved was looking on." 
 But I was too happy at hearing the good news of 
 
"ONLY, MY love's AWAY ! " 1 63 
 
 Bertha to be ashamed. " And then," Captain Lang 
 went on, " your disregard of the chances of missing 
 your train would have been sufficient to confirm 
 my suspicions, even without the hint which that 
 pretty Kttle Miss Carroll gave me. If I had not 
 known this I should not have been so ready to for- 
 give you for your determination to beat me. Youll 
 stay and dine with me, won't you ? I'll give you 
 some real currie as they make it in India, and a 
 bottle of good claret. Does that tempt you ? " 
 
 Of course, I was only too glad at the chance to 
 stay and hear more of the Colquhouns. 
 
 During dinner Captain Lang entertained me 
 with stories of his youth. 
 
 " I am always glad to see a young fellow fall 
 in love," he said, when the punch had brightened 
 his recollection and loosened his tongue. " It does 
 him good. When I was a young fellow I had no 
 time, I was so much taken up with sport and 
 horses and dogs. Then, when it was too late, I 
 fell in love with a girl, but before I had time to 
 propose she had accepted another. A few years 
 later I met her at a ball — a young and blooming 
 widow — and while we were talking of old tunes 
 she turned to me and said, '0 captain, I have 
 always thought what a nice name Lang is.' ' You 
 
164 o'grady of trinity 
 
 can have it if you like/ I blurted out eagerly ; but 
 she explained that it wouldn't work." 
 
 " Did you never propose again ? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes, I did. I was staying at a friend's house 
 in the country, and my host's daughter was a very 
 charming girl. One day — there was a large party 
 at the house — I asked her to come into the garden 
 with me, as I wanted to tell her something. She 
 consented readily enough, without, I believe, in 
 the least suspecting what I had to say. As she 
 stood under an apple-tree I said, 'I think you 
 are the loveliest girl in the world. You know 
 what I mean. Don't hurry; think it over for a 
 couple of weeks, and then I'll ask you again.' " 
 
 " Well, what did she say, captain ? " I asked. 
 
 " Ah, my boy, before the week was over, a young 
 subaltern just fresh from Sandhurst asked her to 
 marry him, and she said she would," the captain 
 replied, with a deep sigh. 
 
 I said something to the effect that plenty of 
 girls would be only too glad to marry him, but 
 he shook his head. "No, no, my boy, it is too 
 late. Just look at my figure now," and he glanced 
 sorrowfully at the buttons of his waistcoat. " Be- 
 lieve me, the right sort of girl always looks at the 
 figure, not at the face." 
 
"ONLY, MY love's AWAY ! " 165 
 
 "But surely," I objected, "she must know 
 whether a face is handsome or ugly." 
 
 "A man's features matter little to a woman," 
 Captain Lang proceeded sententiously ; "she may 
 know whether they are regular or not, but she 
 doesn't care a damn. It's the man's figure which 
 fetches her. Feminarum vita commentatio formce, 
 as some one says. Why, there was Bob Stratton 
 of the King's Own Lancaster, who had the reputa- 
 tion, amongst the men, mind you, of being the 
 ugliest man in the regiment; but he was built 
 like Hercules, and had the courage of the devil. 
 Well, sir, though his face was like a roll of putty, 
 and pock-marked besides, there wasn't a woman 
 in Simla, maiden or married, but would have 
 leaped jo3rfully on to his saddle-bow and gone 
 with him to the ends of the earth had he asked 
 her. Colonel O'Grady knew him, and was a sort 
 of rival of his in a way. Poor Bob, he played the 
 devil with himself afterwards ! " 
 
 "Why, what happened to him, captain?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " His colonel's wife persuaded him to run away 
 with her, and Bob died in six months. They 
 said it was jungle fever that killed him, but it 
 wasn't — it was remorse, for the colonel and he 
 
o'grady of trinity 
 
 had been schoolboys together and the warmest of 
 friends." 
 
 " Was the lady very beautiful V I inquired. 
 
 " The devil a bit of it ! She was a little, pale, 
 consumptive-looking creature, with a voice like a 
 kitten's, and a face like a doll; but she did for 
 poor Bob, and that, too, though the finest girls 
 in Simla Avere all but throwing themselves into 
 his arms." 
 
 And so the stream of Captain Lang's reminis- 
 cences flowed on, almost uninterruptedly, until I 
 had to leave. 
 
 As I said good-night, I asked if he thought that 
 I might write to Mrs. Colquhoun to inquire after 
 Bertha. 
 
 " Certainly, my boy," he replied. " It is only 
 what is expected of you, even apart from the 
 special interest which you have in Miss Bertha's 
 welfare. I know Mrs. Colquhoun will be very 
 pleased to hear from you. Her daughter's feelings 
 on the subject you know probably better than I 
 do. ' Foste Bestante, Florence,' will find her. 
 Good-night, my boy. Come and see me soon 
 again." 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 DILAPIDATIONS AND REPAIRS 
 
 The day after my visit to Lucan I wrote a letter 
 to Mrs. Colquhoun, to express my regret for her 
 daughter's illness, and my pleasure at learning 
 from Captain Lang of her convalescence. The con- 
 ventional phrases which I used seemed absurdly 
 formal and inadequate to express the difference 
 which it made to me to learn that Bertha was 
 no longer in danger. 
 
 In about a week's time the answer came, and 
 it was written in such cordial and almost affec- 
 tionate terms, that I felt sure it was at least as 
 much due to Captain Lang's account of me — for 
 Mrs. Colquhoun mentioned in the letter that she 
 had learned from Captain Lang of my visit — as 
 to my own expression of sympathy. But what I 
 prized beyond all else was a little note of thanks 
 signed " Bertha." This I put away in my pocket- 
 book, and carried about with me as a talisman to 
 give me hope as well as to shield me from despair. 
 
o'grady of trinity 
 
 I now set to work with, fresh energy to read 
 through the classical scholarship course, and I 
 found that I could read three hours a day very 
 well without interfering with my athletic progress. 
 
 College had begun to fill up again, and except 
 that a few familiar faces were missing, there was 
 little change noticeable. Daly had become captain 
 of the Fifteen for the season, and I had got my 
 place as a three-quarter back. 
 
 Daly had come back with the intention of 
 seeking other rooms, so as to escape the chum 
 whom Dr. Moore had imposed upon him. But 
 after the first week, to my surprise, he told me 
 that he had changed his mind. 
 
 "I find it no end of an advantage," he said, 
 "to have some one to keep the fire alight when 
 I am out, and to relieve me of the responsibility 
 attaching to our domestic arrangements. Latouche 
 is a perfect godsend to me, and while I have him 
 to talk to and laugh at — he's very amusing — I 
 think I shall escape the curse of the Celt — I 
 mean the depression and hopelessness which are 
 the penalty we Irish have to pay for our capacity 
 of joy and gladness. And yet to our dull neigh- 
 bours on the other side of the Channel we seem 
 the happiest people in the world. Yes, Latouche 
 
DILAPIDATIONS AND REPAIRS 1 69 
 
 IS a capital fellow, and I've begun already to 
 wonder how I got on without him." 
 
 I laughed, thinking how like Daly it was to 
 find good in every one; but the comradeship 
 between the handsome, brilliant young scholar, 
 and the delicate, ungainly youth, was not so in- 
 congruous as it appeared at the beginning. 
 
 Latouche's admiration for his chum was bound- 
 less, and the delight which he took in doing 
 services for him would have been almost ludicrous 
 if it had not been touching. He would sit and 
 gaze through his spectacles with a rapt expression 
 of happy contentment at Daly, while the latter 
 declared that he had never known what comfort 
 was until Latouche came to live with him, and 
 that he would back his chum's buttered egg or 
 "homilies" — Devil's expression for omelettes — 
 against the noblest discoveries of culinary science. 
 His simple devotion protected him from ridicule, 
 and none of us chaffed him. Martin had indeed 
 nicknamed him Martha, and as he seemed to 
 like rather than dislike the sobriquet as an im- 
 plied tribute to his skill, before long we ceased to 
 call him by any other name. 
 
 Brown, who had been Martin's chum for over 
 a year, was leaving College, and I, with Daly and 
 
lyo o'grady of trinity 
 
 Latouche, was asked to the farewell breakfast m 
 their rooms. The menu was entrusted to Latouche, 
 who excelled himself on the occasion, as much to 
 his own pride as to our satisfaction. When we 
 had satisfied our carnal appetites with the good 
 things of Latouche's creation, we turned to the 
 consideration of more important matters. 
 
 Brown was an expert revolver-shot, and had in- 
 dulged his pastime much to the detriment of the 
 doors, which were perforated in many places by 
 the clean-cutting bullets. These we filled up with 
 putty, and disguised their existence more or less 
 satisfactorily with paint. But when that had been 
 accomplished, the main difiiculty still remained. 
 
 Brown had, during a period of financial embar- 
 rassment, attempted to cut a dunscope through 
 the wall of his bedroom into the corridor, and so 
 remedy this serious deficiency in the architect's 
 plan. But he had little or no skill in house-break- 
 ing, and by the time he had succeeded in removing 
 one brick, the poker had become useless for that 
 or any other purpose. He was forced, therefore, 
 to adopt the less heroic alternative of satisfying 
 the demands of his importunate visitor. 
 
 But the jagged hole still remained in the wall to 
 bear witness against him, and if he was to rescue 
 
DILAPIDATIONS AND KEPAIRS 17I 
 
 any considerable portion of his deposit from the 
 clutches of the Junior Bursar, this evidence of 
 his unskilful attempt to add to the advantages of 
 residence in the College must be concealed, for the 
 time at least, from Dr. Podium's eye. During the 
 discussion we adjourned to Brown's bedroom to 
 view the breach in the wall. 
 
 On a sheet of brown paper in the middle of the 
 room was a heap of mortar with which Brown had 
 intended to fill up the hole ; but when we pointed 
 out that it would take at least a week to dry, and 
 until it did, it would be impossible to cover it with 
 paper, he sorrowfully admitted that it was no use, 
 and threw the paper of mortar out of the window. 
 We returned to the sitting-room in much per- 
 plexity, various devices having been suggested and 
 discarded. Brown's position was fast becoming 
 desperate. 
 
 "Old Podium will rook me of five pounds for 
 that bally hole," he remarked despondently; "so 
 it's precious little I'll see of my deposit. He and 
 his confounded clerk will be here at one, and I 
 can't get it built up before then." 
 
 The truth of this remark was so obvious that 
 we received it in silence. Our suggestions had 
 become exhausted. As we sat silently looking at 
 
172 o'grady of trinity 
 
 each other, Latouche suddenly drew Daly aside 
 and whispered something in his ear. I saw Daly 
 look at the wall. Then he exclaimed — 
 
 " By Jove, the very thing ! Boys, the situation 
 is saved. My chum has more understanding than 
 all of us put together." 
 
 On the wall was hung an unframed print of a 
 little girl saying her night-prayers by her bedside. 
 This Latouche took down and carried into Brown's 
 bedroom before we suspected what his intention 
 was. Then he pinned it over the hole, which it 
 little more than covered, and faced us with a smile 
 of shy pleasure. 
 
 " By J ove, you are a deep 'un, Martha ! " Martin 
 ejaculated, gazing at the youth in genuine admira- 
 tion ; " and for low cunning you'd beat old Podium 
 himself. Confound you. Brown, will you cease your 
 elephantine gambols, and remember that I have 
 still some use for the furniture," for Brown was 
 dancing a hornpipe to the imminent destruction 
 of chairs and tables. 
 
 Daly and Latouche departed as soon as the 
 arrangements for deceiving Dr. Podium were com- 
 pleted, but I decided to remain to see the result 
 of the scheme. By the time we had arranged the 
 rooms in what Martin called " tea-meeting order," 
 
DILAPIDATIONS AND REPAIRS 1 73 
 
 we heard the Junior Bursar and his clerk coming 
 up the stairs. 
 
 Dr. Podium was an old man with a long white 
 beard. He looked benevolent, and may have been 
 so once ; but if so, much taking of fines and fees 
 had warped his finer instincts. He was not popular 
 in Trinity, and many a gunpowder plot had been 
 planned in his honour, but he had a charmed life, 
 and always escaped to smile and fine again. Many 
 disregarded both his academic title and his baptis- 
 mal appellation, and called him simply " Judas.'' 
 
 " We will take the bedroom first, please," he said, 
 in answer to Brown's respectful salutation, "espe- 
 cially as you don't share it with any one else, 
 ha, ha." 
 
 Dr. Podium had an irritating habit of chuckling 
 at the end of every sentence. 
 
 " Very good, sir," said Brown, throwing open the 
 door and ushering the Bursar and his attendant 
 into the room. We all held our breath during the 
 first few minutes of scrutiny, for Brown's fate 
 depended chiefly on the success or failure of 
 Latouche's device. Old Podium at once dis- 
 covered three or four places where the paper had 
 been torn off the walls, and for each of these 
 sixpence was registered against Bro^vn's account. 
 
174 o'grady of trinity 
 
 Then with evident disappointment he looked 
 round the room. "My sight is not very good, 
 Thomas," he said, turning to his assistant, who held 
 the register of dilapidations ready to make a fresh 
 entry. "Do you see anything else here? Ha, 
 what is this ? " catching sight of a few grains of 
 mortar on the floor. " Have you been engaged in 
 any building operations? Ha, ha, young gentle- 
 men are so anxious to improve the place at their 
 own cost, he, he, he." 
 
 " No, sir ; that is the mud off my football boots," 
 the victim replied, with a readiness of which we all 
 felt proud, whatever the issue. " I ought to have 
 had it removed before you came, sir." 
 
 Dr. Podium looked thoughtfully at the sole 
 adornment of the room. "A very appropriate 
 picture for a bedroom, Mr. Brown. I hope you 
 follow the young lady's excellent example and say 
 your prayers at bedtime, ha, ha." 
 
 "Yes, sir, I do indeed," Brown replied, with a 
 fervour that at once awakened Dr. Podium's 
 suspicions. 
 
 " Ha, ha, no doubt you do," he retorted ; " you 
 appear to like praying everywhere except in Chapel. 
 How is the picture fastened, Thomas ? " 
 
 " Pinned to the wall, sir," the clerk answered. 
 
DILAPIDATIONS AND REPAIRS 1 75 
 
 "There is nothing behind it, I hope, Mr. Brown?" 
 
 " Nothing, except the wall, sir. Shall I take it 
 down for you ? " Brown asked, with splendid com- 
 posure. 
 
 But Dr. Podium thought he recognised in this 
 suggestion a trap to catch him. 
 
 " No, no," he said ; " the word of a gentleman, and 
 especially such a religious gentleman as you are, 
 is above suspicion, ha, ha. We will now look at 
 the sitting-room, if you please." 
 
 I saw that Brown could with difficulty refrain 
 from executing a war-dance of triumph as he 
 followed the scrutineers from the room. The prin- 
 cipal danger had been successfully evaded. But 
 unfortunately the light in the sitting-room was 
 against concealment. 
 
 As Dr. Podium was about to depart, having 
 registered a paltry sum against Brown's deposit, 
 he noticed one of the putty-stopped holes in the 
 door. He put his fore-finger on it, and lo ! there 
 was no resistance from the soft putty. He turned 
 round with a beaming face and gave vent to a long 
 chorus of chuckles. 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha, Mr. Brown," he began, while that 
 gentleman stood abashed, with a sheepish expres- 
 sion of discomfiture on his face. " Very ingenious 
 
176 o'grady of trinity 
 
 indeed, but soft putty ! 0 dear, why not butter ? 
 It would have done just as well. Ho, ho, here we 
 have another and yet another. Put them down, 
 Thomas, a shilling for each hole, and a shilling for 
 the attempted concealment, and, let me see, he, he, 
 sixpence for the bad workmanship. Ho, ho, Mr. 
 Brown, when you have a house of your own I hope 
 you will do things better. Nine holes at half a 
 crown each, ha, ha — that makes how much, Mr. 
 Brown, can you tell me ? Ho, ho, youVe forgotten 
 your arithmetic," for Brown declined to add to old 
 Podium's merriment. "Thomas, tell Mr. Brown 
 how much that makes. Yes, one pound two 
 shillings and sixpence; and for general dilapida- 
 tions, which Mr. Brown has so admirably concealed, 
 we will say, he, he, two pounds ten shillings. Ha, 
 ha, ha, good-morning, Mr. Brown." 
 
 We could hear him still chuckling as he crossed 
 the quadrangle, his chuckles growing gradually 
 fainter in the distance. Martin swore a mighty 
 oath on the altar of his chumship to avenge Brown 
 on the first opportunity, and to send the latter an 
 account of the transaction, wherever he might be. 
 
 And so Brown departed, as Dr. Podium had 
 done, leaving the honours divided. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 "OH, MY LOVE, MY LOVE IS YOUNG!" 
 
 The last important event of the academical year 
 was the contest with Cambridge University under 
 Rugby rules, in which we gained a not altogether 
 unexpected victory by two tries to nothing. 
 
 The Cantabs. were a characteristically English 
 team, strong, sturdy, and considerably heavier than 
 the Dublin men. Our fellows were light, sinewy, 
 and hard with training. We held our own in the 
 packs, but in the loose we fairly ran through our 
 opponents. 
 
 I think there was little to choose between the 
 backs on either side; but the Cambridge men, 
 playing behind a beaten pack, had to adopt saving 
 tactics, and had therefore less chance of distin- 
 guishing themselves. I played three-quarter back 
 on the left wing, with Daly as centre. 
 
 My lucky star was still in the ascendant. Shortly 
 before half-time, Daly got the ball and raced through 
 the whole team, dodging them in the most wonder- 
 
178 o'grady of tkinity 
 
 ful fashion. When he was just on the goal-Une 
 he was tackled by the Cambridge back, and passed 
 the ball to me. But eagerness had blinded my 
 eyes ; I bungled the pass, and the ball nearly went 
 into touch, the applause which had greeted Daly's 
 magnificent run being hushed in awful suspense. 
 With a desperate effort I recovered the ball and 
 grounded it behind the goal-line, with half the 
 Cambridge team on top of me. It was the first 
 blood drawn, and the omen of victory. Although 
 we had considerably the better of the game, we 
 only added another try to our score. 
 
 So my annus mirabilis, the year of my greatest 
 triumph, and, I think, of my greatest happiness, 
 came to an end. I felt really sorry when it was 
 over, for no year could be quite the same to me 
 again. And yet I had no foreboding of what evil 
 and sorrow the coming year was destined to bring 
 forth. 
 
 My mind was too much occupied with the anti- 
 cipation of winning a Scholarship, and of seeing 
 Bertha Colquhoun again, to heed any prophet of 
 evil, had there been one, and there was none. 
 
 There was less to distract me from my work than I 
 had expected, for, by a coincidence, most of my com- 
 panions were as occupied with exams, as myself. 
 
''OH, MY LOVE, MY LOVE LS YOUNG ! " 1 79 
 
 Daly's conduct rather puzzled me. I knew that 
 he was reading for classical Moderatorship, and 
 was practically certain to take the first place, and 
 had I not been on such intimate terms with him, 
 that would have been a sufficient explanation of 
 his frequent invisibility. I was aware, however, 
 that Daly did his reading at night and in the small 
 hours of the morning. Why was it, then, that 
 he could scarcely ever be found in the afternoons ? 
 He was no unsociable Timon to develop suddenly 
 a taste for his own exclusive company. 
 
 Latouche perhaps knew the secret ; but if he 
 did, he kept it to himself. There was some 
 indefinable change, too, in his manner which I 
 could not quite fathom, although he showed no 
 lack of friendship or affection for me. I made 
 one, and only one, attempt to draw from him the 
 reason of his frequent absences. I met him re- 
 turning to College just before Commons. 
 
 " ' What make you from Wittenberg ? I asked. 
 
 " ' A truant disposition good, my lord,' " he replied 
 jestingly, and immediately changed the subject. 
 
 After that I left the solution of the question to 
 time or chance to reveal. The change in Daly's 
 habits had evidently passed unnoticed by the 
 others, and I held my peace. 
 
i8o o'gkady of trinity 
 
 My examination was fixed for the 20tli of May, 
 and as that date drew near I saw little of any one 
 except Sullivan, who was grinding me in my work. 
 Daly lent me some of his own copies of the authors 
 which I had to read, and gave me his blessing. 
 
 " I know, old chap," he said, " it is kinder to leave 
 you alone. When you have won your Scholarship, 
 then you will have a free year before you to indulge 
 your love of social intercourse." 
 
 And, as few men cared to climb to my " eagle's 
 nest," on the chance of finding my door open, my 
 reading was uninterrupted. 
 
 One day, about a week before the date of my 
 trial, I read in the newspaper the announcement of 
 the arrival of Mrs. and Miss Colquhoun at Kings- 
 town from England, and it caused me such a flut- 
 tering of the heart that I could do no more work 
 that day. On the day following I found that my 
 excitement had increased rather than diminished. 
 At present, reading was out of the question. Per- 
 haps I had been working too hard. The more I 
 thought of it the more convinced I became that I 
 was really going rather " stale." A little relaxation 
 would do me good, and, besides, it was my duty to 
 call on the Colquhouns. I was conscious all the 
 while of seeking excuses rather than incentives. 
 
"OH, MY LOVE, MY LOVE IS YOUNG ! " l8l 
 
 In truth, the greatest academic honour had begun 
 to seem but a poor thing compared with the sound 
 of Bertha's voice or the touch of her hand. 
 
 Like a thief I crept hurriedly from College, 
 leapt on a car, and drove to the railway station. 
 I left myself no time for imaginary fears, and I 
 felt none until I stood waiting in the drawing- 
 room, my heart beating as though it would leap 
 from my bosom. 
 
 I took up an album of photographs and began 
 to look through it carelessly. Suddenly my eyes 
 fell upon a portrait, familiar, and easily recognisable, 
 in spite of age and discoloration. 
 
 It was my father as a young man, and before 
 he had taken orders. 
 
 I had scarcely recovered from my surprise when 
 the door opened and Bertha came in. For a 
 moment I could scarcely believe it was she. 
 
 The girl was gone, and in her place stood a 
 woman, tall and stately, and almost regal in her 
 beauty. The words of welcome died on my lips, 
 and a chill of fear smote my heart. Could the 
 one short year which had passed since we had 
 said farewell at the gate have wrought so much 
 change? The lovely girl seemed nearer to me 
 than the beautiful woman. 
 
l82 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 I muttered some incoherent words as I took 
 her outstretched hand. 
 
 " It was good of you to come so quickly to 
 see us/' she said, with a perfect self-possession 
 which contrasted strangely with my discomposure. 
 "Mother intended to write to you — she is only 
 gone to the village, and will be here soon — but 
 I thought you would come. It was good of you." 
 
 " Good of me ! " I exclaimed. " I could not 
 help coming. You might have known I should 
 come, did you not ? " 
 
 Her colour deepened a little. "Yes, I think 
 I did; but, of course, I could not be sure. It 
 is nearly a year since you were here, and many 
 things may happen in that time." 
 
 "Ah, yes; but if one thing has not happened 
 I don't care," I replied. 
 
 " What is that one thing ? " 
 
 "If you have not forgotten me. 0 Bertha, 
 how beautiful you are ! " I exclaimed. " Tell me 
 you have not forgotten me and that wonderful 
 night in June — tell me." 
 
 Her face flushed again. "No, I have never 
 forgotten," she murmured softly. 
 
 I took her hand and kissed it passionately. 
 " You are so beautiful. Bertha," I went on, gazing 
 
"OH, MY LOVE, MY LOVE LS YOUNG!" 1 83 
 
 into her face, "that it seems as if I must lose 
 you." 
 
 " Would you rather have me ugly, Hubert ? " 
 she asked, with a little musical laugh, calling me 
 by my name for the first time. 
 
 " I want to have you. Bertha, so that I can 
 stand between you and all the world. I envy 
 every one who looks on your beauty. I want to 
 have it to myself — to be mine altogether. Give 
 me a pledge — promise me that it shall all be 
 mine," I whispered, still holding her hand. " I 
 can't live without it." 
 
 She trembled a little at my passion and bent her 
 head. My lips were dry with eagerness. I knelt 
 by her side and kissed her on the mouth. 
 
 " That is the pledge that you belong to me for 
 ever, is it not — for ever ? " I asked, as I stood up 
 and looked down on her in triumph. 
 
 "Yes, for ever," she murmured, so low that I 
 could scarcely hear it. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 " A star was my desire, 
 And one was far apart, and one was near ; 
 And one was water, and one star was fire ; 
 And one will ever shine, and one will pass." 
 
 It was agreed that I was not to see Bertha again 
 until after my examination. It seemed an almost 
 intolerably long interval, but she was firm in re- 
 fusing to allow me to risk losing my Scholarship 
 rather than suffer a few days' banishment from 
 her presence. Mrs. Colquhoun had asked me to 
 come to her garden-party on the 30th of May, 
 and that was only a few days later than the last 
 day of my trial. As yet she knew nothing definite, 
 although she may have suspected much of the 
 relations between her daughter and myself. 
 
 The secret of our love was too sweet and too 
 sacred to be shared with any one. For a little 
 while we would keep it to ourselves. It did not 
 occur to either of us that a woman's, and more 
 especially a mother's, instinct would scarce need 
 
"A STAR WAS MY DESIRE" 1 85 
 
 any other avowal than that which she read in her 
 daughter's face and eyes. 
 
 At length the four days of my examination came 
 to an end. I had fared tolerably well, although I 
 had not shown any very conspicuous merit in 
 answering; and without being over-confident, I felt 
 hopeful as to the result. 
 
 Nothing could exceed my feeling of happy relief 
 as I lay in bed the next morning and knew that 
 the Campanile bell would not for some time again 
 spoil the reasonable pleasure which I took in my 
 breakfast. 
 
 I was trying to summon up sufficient resolution 
 to leave the comfort of my bed, when Daly came 
 into my room. 
 
 " Will you get up and give me some breakfast, old 
 chap ? " he asked. " I came to you because I wanted 
 to avoid some fellows. I told Martha to entertain 
 them if they came, but not to tell them where I was. 
 That's the worst of living on the ground-floor." 
 
 " Or the worst of being the most popular man in 
 College," I answered, laughing, as I prepared to get 
 up. "Yes, if youll wait until I've had my tub, 
 I'll give you breakfast." 
 
 " Thanks. You don't mind if I shut your outer 
 door, do you ? " 
 
1 86 o'gkady of trinity 
 
 " Not a bit" I replied ; " though I don't think 
 any one but Eyre is likely to come in here at this 
 hour." 
 
 Humph ! I think it's safer to shut it. I can 
 eat my breakfast all the better of Eyre's absence," 
 and Daly went out and closed the door. I felt 
 very proud of Daly's having chosen my company 
 when he was seeking to avoid the company of 
 others. 
 
 After breakfast we sat together, smoking our 
 pipes in silence. Daly seemed absorbed in the 
 contemplation of the empty grate, and said little. 
 We heard steps approach the door, and a voice — 
 I think it was Martin's — say, " Poor devil, let him 
 sleep," and they moved away again. Daly stood up. 
 
 "For this relief, much thanks," he said. 
 " O'Grady, I want you to come up the river with 
 me; will you?" 
 
 " Yes, if you like ; but why not go out to Howth 
 and have a swim ? It's better than the boat-club 
 to-day." 
 
 " I don't mean the boat-club ; but let us go up 
 to Chapelizod, and take a boat there." 
 
 " Very well," I replied ; " that is nearly as good." 
 
 " Come along, then, before any other chaps turn 
 up." 
 
"A STAK WAS MY DESIRE" 1 87 
 
 Daly's anxiety to avoid meeting any of the 
 others rather surprised me, but I asked no ques- 
 tions. 
 
 We got on a car in College Green, and drove to 
 the gate of the Phoenix Park, where we took the 
 steam-tram to Chapelizod. Then Daly suddenly 
 turned to me, and said — 
 
 " O'Grady, do you know why I wanted to avoid 
 seeing any one but you ? " 
 
 " No, I don't ; but I've been wondering," I an- 
 swered. 
 
 " I suppose you have. Well, it's because I don't 
 want any one but you to know — I am going to 
 see Izod." 
 
 " Izod ! " I exclaimed, for the moment unable to 
 realise who Izod was. 
 
 " Yes, Izod. You remember, don't you — ' Little 
 Mary Cassidy, the cause of all my misery ' ? " he 
 answered, with a smile. 
 
 A light broke suddenly on my mind. Ah, this 
 was the explanation of Daly's mysterious disap- 
 pearances. Now that I knew it, I wondered I had 
 not suspected it before. 
 
 " Perhaps you'd rather not come, O'Grady ? " Daly 
 went on, noticing and misinterpreting my silence. 
 
 " Dear Daly," I answered warmly, " of course I'll 
 
i88 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 come, if you wish me to come. I'd do more than 
 that for you." 
 
 "Thank you, O'Grady. I knew I could trust 
 you;" and my companion relapsed into silence, 
 which remained unbroken until the tram stopped 
 at Chapelizod. 
 
 I was so gratified at being the chosen friend and 
 confidant of Daly that I did not think seriously of 
 the consequences which might result from the 
 intimacy between my friend and this low-born 
 village beauty. 
 
 Daly was evidently a frequent visitor to the 
 little hostelry, for the barman greeted him with 
 respectful familiarity. We went into the little 
 private room where we had many months ago 
 toasted St. Izod in bumpers of beer. 
 
 Down the stairs came the light patter of foot- 
 steps, and Izod entered the room, her face radiant 
 with love and pride in her lover. I do not think 
 she was aware of my presence. She went straight 
 to Daly and crept into his embrace, hiding her 
 face on his shoulder, while he stroked her hair 
 and kissed her brow. 
 
 I turned and looked guiltily out of the Avindow, 
 ashamed of being an accidental observer of this 
 sudden revelation. 
 
"A STAR WAS MY DESIRE" 1 89 
 
 "You have not forgotten Mr. O'Grady, Izod?'' 
 Daly asked at length, drawing the girl towards 
 me. "He is the dearest friend I have." 
 
 The girl held out her hand to me, and then 
 turned and gazed fondly at her lover. 
 
 The somewhat rude glow of health in her cheeks 
 which I remembered, had given place to a delicate 
 colour, and love had refined and beautified her face. 
 Her voice, too, had grown softer, and her step more 
 graceful. She explained to me that a girl friend 
 had come to stay with her while her mother was 
 away, and that I was sure to like her. 
 
 I then saw that this boating party had been 
 arranged beforehand, and that I was expected to 
 look after Miss ConoUy. 
 
 "You don't mind, old fellow, making yourself 
 agreeable to a pretty little rustic, do you ? " Daly 
 asked, when Izod went to put on her hat and 
 cloak. 
 
 "Not a bit, Daly," I said, "if you and Izod 
 guarantee her prettiness." 
 
 But I had all the while an uneasy feeling about 
 this boating excursion, and a sense of impending 
 mischief 
 
 " Well, here is Miss Conolly, and you can judge for 
 yourself," Daly answered, laughing. " Mr. O'Grady 
 
190 o'grady of trinity 
 
 is traitor enough to doubt your charms," he said, as 
 we went down to the river-side. 
 
 Miss ConoUy was pretty enough to need no 
 apology; she had rather daring black eyes and a 
 somewhat adventurous coquetry, and I think she 
 would have been well enough pleased to have me 
 become to her what Daly was to Izod. The girls 
 sat in the stern of the boat, Izod holding the tiller- 
 ropes, while Daly and I took the oars and rowed 
 slowly down the stream. 
 
 There was no sound, save the measured plash of 
 the oars in the smooth water, and the girls' voices 
 as they appealed to Daly or to me. It was a 
 drowsy warm day, and we were glad enough to 
 adopt Izod's suggestion to pull up under a willow- 
 tree when we had turned the head of the river, 
 and take our little luncheons of sandwiches and 
 beer. 
 
 When I had made the boat fast to the tree, 
 Daly took his place beside Izod in the stern, 
 while Miss Bridget ConoUy came and sat by me, 
 and prattled to me as I munched my sandwiches. 
 Her soft Irish-English was musical enough, though 
 what she said was neither original nor profound, 
 and I found such questions as — was it true that I 
 hated girls ? did I think her pretty ? would I take 
 
"A STAR WAS MY DESIRE" 191 
 
 her for a row again ? — easy enough to answer with- 
 out any verbal admission, and although she made a 
 little pretence of resistance at first, Izod's example 
 seemed to satisfy her scruples. 
 
 Daly stretched himself in the boat, and, with his 
 head on Izod's knee, smoked cigarettes which the 
 girl rolled for him in her dainty fingers. Then 
 Bridget must needs perform the same office for 
 me, which she did, laughing merrily at her clumsi- 
 ness — but she would learn to do it better. I com- 
 plained that the cigarette would not draw ; so she 
 made another for herself, and put it between her 
 lips. 
 
 I bent my head closer to hers to light her 
 cigarette from mine. A little red ash fell on her 
 dress, and she cried out, " 0 Mr. O'Grady, you 
 have burned my dress. What shall I do ? " 
 
 " I shall buy you another, little one," I said. 
 
 I had scarcely spoken, when I heard beside me 
 the movement of oars. I turned half round, and a 
 boat came round the bend of the river and passed 
 close to us. In the stern of the boat sat Mrs. 
 Colquhoun, and Bertha, her head averted, looking 
 cold and proud, rowed swiftly past us, without 
 any sign of recognition. 
 
 The unexpected catastrophe almost stunned me. 
 
192 o'grady of trinity 
 
 The whole folly of this unlucky excursion dawned 
 on me. What would the consequences be ? I did 
 not dare to think. One thing was clear — we must 
 return to the boat-house at once. There was just 
 the chance — a slender one I had to admit — that 
 we had not been recognised. 
 
 In answer to Bridget's alarmed inquiries I 
 muttered something about the heat and sunstroke. 
 The girl was really frightened. "I am so sorry," 
 she murmured ; and, I suppose not knowing what 
 else to do, she bent down and kissed me, not 
 coquettishly as before, but with real feeling. 
 
 But her lips seemed to burn me like a coal of 
 fire. 
 
 " It is nothing ; you needn't trouble about it," I 
 answered a little roughly. She seemed a little 
 hurt at this sudden rebuff, and I added more 
 gently, " My dear Bridget, I shall be all right 
 presently, as soon as I get back." 
 
 By this time Daly had noticed that something 
 was wrong. When Bridget told him I had got a 
 sunstroke, he started up in real concern. 
 
 " My dear O'Grady," he exclaimed, " take my hat 
 and he down in the boat. Ill scull you home at 
 once." 
 
 But I refused to allow him to scull us back. I 
 
"A STAR WAS MY DESIRE" 1 93 
 
 insisted on taking an oar. My great desire was to 
 return before we could be passed by the Colquhouns 
 again. 
 
 We pulled up stream, both girls watching me 
 with anxious sympathy, and Bridget rather tear- 
 fully. 
 
 When we reached Chapelizod I would only wait 
 to drink a glass of brandy. I had a sort of feeling 
 that the sooner I left Chapelizod the less chance 
 there was of my having been recognised. 
 
 Daly refused to allow me to go alone. " My dear 
 boy," he said, " if you feel ill you must see a doctor. 
 I shall come with you." 
 
 So we said good-bye to our disappointed com- 
 panions in this luckless enterprise. 
 
 I felt some anger against Daly for this disastrous 
 ending; but he showed so much concern for me 
 that I could not feel long embittered. 
 
 "There is really nothing the matter with me 
 physically," I said, in answer to his inquiries, as 
 we steamed along to Dublin. " 111 tell you about 
 it afterwards." 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 " Hath the pearl less whiteness 
 Because of its birth ? 
 Hath the violet less brightness 
 For growing near earth ? 
 
 In my perturbed mental condition I could not 
 bear the idea of dining in Hall, and of answering 
 questions as to bow I bad fared at tbe examination. 
 
 I proposed therefore to go to tbe Pboenix and 
 dine tbere instead. 
 
 "I ougbt really to say grace tbis evening at 
 Commons/' Daly replied ; but I dare say Sullivan 
 will do it for me. Yes, I'll come." 
 
 After a silent and ratber melancholy dinner at 
 tbe Pboenix, Daly took my arm, and we walked 
 back to College together. I knew that he was 
 anxiously awaiting some explanation of my strange 
 conduct; but he asked no questions until we had 
 reached my rooms and I had closed my doors. 
 Ho watched me curiously while I poked up the 
 fire and put on the kettle to make some coffee. 
 Then at last he said — 
 
 194 
 
"HATH THE PEAKL LESS WHITENESS?" 1 95 
 
 "My dear O'Grady, I wish you'd tell me the 
 secret of this mystery. You look as gloomy as 
 though you had just been condemned to death, 
 instead of being as merry as a lark now that you 
 are certain of your Scholarship." 
 
 " I don't feel any less gloomy than I look, Daly/' I 
 replied, " for I have lost to-day what I value more 
 than Scholarship or anything else in the world." 
 
 A puzzled expression came over Daly's face. 
 
 " Dear O'Grady," he said, " I can't make out 
 what you mean. When did you lose this thing 
 which you value so much ? Not since we went 
 to Chapelizod to-day, surely ! " 
 
 "Yes, since we went to ChapeUzod," I replied 
 bitterly. 
 
 "What have you lost? Surely you can trust 
 me, old fellow ? " My companion laid his hand on 
 my arm. 
 
 "The love of a girl for whom I would sacrifice 
 everything. It is cruel to lose it just when I came 
 to know that I had won it." 
 
 Daly looked perplexed, and I went on — 
 
 "Did you see a boat pass us while we were 
 smoking under the trees ? " 
 
 " No, I didn't. Whose was it ? " my companion 
 asked, with a quickened interest. 
 
196 o'grady of trinity 
 
 " Mrs. Colquhoun's. She and her daughter passed 
 us while I was fooling with Bridget ConoUy." 
 
 " Ah, that was unfortunate. I knew nothing 
 of this. And she loves you? You are a lucky 
 fellow, and I congratulate you with all my heart. 
 She is very beautiful." 
 
 "Thank you, Daly; but your congratulations 
 come a little too late," I answered. 
 
 " Then why didn't you tell me sooner, and they 
 would have been given you in time. But con- 
 gratulations are always in time." 
 
 I was fast losing my temper. Daly either could 
 not or would not understand. 
 
 " Hang it, Daly," I exclaimed angrily, " don't you 
 see that it's all over now ! Your accursed boating 
 excursion has ruined everything." 
 
 Daly's face flushed a little at my sudden outburst. 
 
 " I'm afraid I don't understand," he said gently. 
 
 " I know you don't. Can't you see that she will 
 never forgive me for fooling with that pretty rustic 
 of yours ? " 
 
 "But she may not have recognised you," my 
 companion replied more thoughtfully. 
 
 " I know she did. I saw it in her face. I am 
 certain she will never forgive me. I am the most 
 wretched fellow alive ! " I burst out vehemently. 
 
"HATH THE PEARL LESS WHITENESS?'' 1 97 
 
 Daly put his hand on my shoulder caressingly. 
 
 " Dear old fellow, don't be cut up about it. She 
 may not have seen you; and if she has — well, a 
 man does not lose either his life or his love for 
 a kiss. No," he went on; "if she loves you, she 
 will be angry perhaps, but she will love you still. 
 If she does not " 
 
 " I tell you, Daly, that she does," I interrupted ; 
 " at least she did." 
 
 " Well, if she did, she loves you still. You must 
 make your peace with her. Make me the scape- 
 goat — say it was all my fault. I know it was, and 
 I'm deuced sorry. Shall I write and tell her that 
 it was my fault ? " 
 
 " No, no, that could do no good. It would be 
 absurd for you to take the blame of my kissing 
 the girl." 
 
 Daly burst out laughing. 
 
 "Yes," he admitted, "I suppose it would. But 
 why on earth did you kiss the girl ? " 
 
 " Why ? " I repeated somewhat confusedly ; " what 
 else could I do ? You kissed Izod. I suppose that's 
 why I kissed Bridget." 
 
 " I don't suppose it is," Daly said drily. 
 
 "Why not?" I asked. 
 
 " Because I love Izod, and you don't love Bridget." 
 
198 o'grady of trinity 
 
 "You mean that you are fond of Izod, don't 
 you, Daly?" I corrected. "You don't love lier 
 as — as " 
 
 "As you love Miss Colquhoun, my boy," Daly 
 answered, finishing my uncompleted sentence. " Is 
 that what you mean ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, I do." 
 
 " But look here, Daly," I exclaimed in surprise ; 
 " it's awfully unfair of you to take advantage of a 
 defenceless girl." 
 
 "Defenceless girl!" Daly cried out — "Izod a 
 defenceless girl ! Why, my boy, have you forgotten 
 what the Greek poet says — 
 
 viKO, de Koi (ribrjpov 
 Koi TTvp koXt] Tis ovaa. 
 
 It is I who am defenceless against her beauty." 
 
 "Daly!" I said more seriously, "you know 
 what I mean. I saw to-day that Izod was in love 
 with you. What are you going to do ? " 
 
 " To go on loving her." 
 
 " Till when ? and what is to become of her after- 
 wards ? You can't marry her, and it will only end 
 in wretchedness for her at all events. Give her up, 
 Daly. It will be easier for her now than later." 
 
 I saw that my words went home. Daly sat with 
 
"HATH THE PEARL LESS WHITENESS?" 1 99 
 
 his head bowed, and his arms hanging limp by his 
 side, an attitude which always in him expressed 
 dejection. 
 
 " I can't give her up, O'Grady. She grows more 
 beautiful and more dear to me every day — 'as 
 dear as are the ruddy drops which visit my sad 
 heart.' And why should I give her up for dis- 
 tinctions which are purely arbitrary ? But for a 
 generation or so, she is my social equal. Would 
 you love Bertha Colquhoun less if she were a 
 peasant girl as Izod is ? No, you would not ; you 
 need not tell me, I see it in your face. Then how 
 can you tell me to give her up ? " 
 
 Daly had stood up; his face was flushed, and 
 his chest heaved with emotion. Then he threw 
 himself back into the chair. 
 
 "I cannot," he went on, more to himself than 
 to me — "I cannot, even if I dared, give her up, 
 now that every thought of hers belongs to me, 
 and I am become dearer to her than heaven itself. 
 Where can you find love like that amongst your 
 ladies who think more of the gains than of the 
 sacrifices of love ? But Izod is a saint, and I am — 
 dearer to her than God." 
 
 " Will you marry her, Daly ? " I asked softly. 
 
 He threw his head forward and covered his face 
 with his hands. That was his only answer. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 JEALOUSY, CRUEL AS THE GRAVE 
 
 Martin and Eyre, as well as several other Trinity 
 men, were going to Mrs. Colquhoun's garden-party. 
 Daly, I discovered afterwards, had not been in- 
 cluded in the invitation. 
 
 I was nervous and irritable, and would gladly 
 have avoided Eyre's company if I could, but I had 
 no excuse for doing so, although of late I had 
 found his company less tolerable and his cynicism 
 less amusing. 
 
 I could not help admitting that he looked hand- 
 some enough in his well-fitting grey flannel suit, 
 in spite of the habitual sneer which gave a some- 
 what sinister appearance to his very regular fea- 
 tures. He had, too, an irritating habit of fixing 
 one with his eye-glass before giving utterance to 
 some insolent sarcasm. 
 
 Martin, seeing the racket in Eyre's hand, began 
 to chaff him on the unusual event. " Is Eyre also 
 amongst the tennis-players ? " he exclaimed. " Why, 
 
JEALOUSY, CRUEL AS THE GRAVE 20I 
 
 you will soon be developing a sense of honest 
 humour. Fresh air and exercise will haply cure 
 you of your uncouth habit of jesting. I have 
 always believed, Eyre, that your tongue was the 
 organ of a disordered liver. So youVe found it 
 out. Why else this unwonted sight ? " 
 
 " Your inference is wrong as usual," Eyre retorted. 
 "I have brought my racket, partly to show you 
 fellows how tennis ought to be played, partly to 
 do credit to Bertha Colquhoun's selection." 
 
 My blood boiled with rage as Bertha's name fell 
 trippingly from Eyre's lips, and I could with diffi- 
 culty restrain myself from picking a quarrel with 
 him there and then; but fortunately I remem- 
 bered that I could scarce do her a greater dis- 
 service than make her the cause of a quarrel 
 between myself and Eyre. 
 
 "0 insolence unparalleled, unpardonable con- 
 ceit!" ejaculated Martin. "My good Eyre, had I 
 introduced my boot-black to Miss Colquhoun, she 
 would have been equally agreeable to him." 
 
 "No doubt, if it relieved her of the dulness of 
 your society," Eyre replied, with unruffled com- 
 posure. "You shall see for yourselves how she 
 prefers my delicate wit to the obviousness of your 
 boisterous jokes. What proof would you like of 
 
202 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 her preference ? If she wears a rose in her dress, 
 I bet you five pounds, Martin, that she will give it 
 me, and you shall see it in my coat." 
 
 " I bet you five pounds she doesn't, Eyre," Martin 
 answered. " O'Grady, you be witness of the bet." 
 
 I bent my head in silent acquiescence. My heart 
 was almost bursting with fury. If I had never 
 before known what hatred was, I knew it that 
 moment. And, in spite of myself, I had been made 
 a witness of a wager that the girl I loved, and who, 
 till a few days ago, I believed, loved me, would give 
 the preference to the one person in all the world 
 whom I regarded in the light of an enemy. 
 
 Martin changed the conversation by asking me 
 if I knew why Daly was not coming to Lucan. ' I 
 replied truthfully enough that I did not know. 
 
 " I can't make Daly out," Martin went on ; " he 
 used to be the most outspoken man in College, and 
 now he's become as reticent as a conspirator. And 
 the curious thing about it is that Martha, too, is 
 become equally reticent, and goes about as if he was 
 carrying some mighty secret ; and if you ask him 
 where Daly is, he thinks for a few moments before 
 he gives you an answer, which is obviously meant 
 to put you off the scent. I wonder is there a woman 
 in the case ? " Eyre pricked up his ears at once. 
 
JEALOUSY, CRUEL AS THE GRAVE 203 
 
 "A woman — yes, there must be. Daly has be- 
 come quite rational lately," he remarked. " O'Grady, 
 you ought to know ; do tell us if you do." 
 
 " How the deuce should I know, Eyre ? " I burst 
 out angrily ; and if I did, what the devil business 
 is it of yours ? " 
 
 "Ha! so it is true, then," Eyre replied calmly. 
 "O'Grady, if you want to keep a secret, never 
 show anger when you are accused of possessing it. 
 Having admitted so much, you may as well tell us 
 who the girl is ? " 
 
 "I tell you I have admitted nothing," I said 
 furiously ; " and if you don't believe it, I'll prove it 
 to you in the only satisfactory way. If you doubt 
 my word, say so. I'm ready to answer you." 
 
 I don't know what Eyre might have replied if 
 Martin had not intervened. "Of course it's no 
 business of Eyre's," he said, " and that's of course 
 why Eyre takes such an interest in it. But all the 
 same, O'Grady, I don't see why you should lose 
 your temper over it. If Eyre wants to know, let 
 him find out for himself" 
 
 "I have found out for myself," Eyre answered 
 calmly. " O'Grady's beastly bad temper gave me 
 the clue." 
 
 " Who is it, then ? " Martin asked incredulously. 
 
204 o'grady of trinity 
 
 " The fair ' Mermaid of Chapelizod/ " Eyre said, 
 looking hard at me, while I bit my lips in impotent 
 vexation. 
 
 " How do you know ? " Martin inquired again, his 
 curiosity fully aroused ; " there may be many fair 
 mermaids both at Chapelizod and elsewhere." 
 
 " No, there is only one, as O'Grady knows," Eyre 
 went on, with aggravating confidence; "it's just 
 come to me by inspiration. Yesterday that excel- 
 lent jarvey known as Booze drove me to the Phoenix 
 Park. We had a difference of opinion as to the 
 proper fare, and Booze referred to Mr. Daly in sup- 
 port of his claim. That gentleman always gave 
 him half a sov. for driving him to Chapelizod, he 
 said. 
 
 " I asked him how often he drove to Chapelizod, 
 and he said, three or four times a week, and some- 
 times oftener. It was, I admit, stupid of me not 
 to have discovered it sooner; but I'm obliged to 
 you all the same, O'Grady, for supplying the miss- 
 ing link. Here we are at Lucan ; are you going to 
 walk or drive ? " 
 
 I knew that if I said anything more of the matter 
 I should only confirm Eyre's suspicions, so I kept 
 silent as we walked from the railway station to the 
 Colquhouns' house. 
 
JEALOUSY, CRUEL AS THE GRAVE 205 
 
 Mrs. Colquhoun was kind and gentle as ever, but 
 I thouglit I detected in her greeting lack of a cer- 
 tain quality of interest and sympathy with which 
 I had grown familiar. I was embarrassed, too, 
 remembering the unlucky incident of the river. 
 
 It was a large gathering, and tennis was already 
 in full swing. At the third court near the trees of 
 the orchard I saw Bertha playing. If I could only 
 have a few minutes with her alone. I came up and 
 stood quite close to the players, watching for my 
 opportunity when the set was over. She must 
 have seen me, but she kept her face averted. I 
 knew then that she had recognised me on the 
 river. 
 
 I felt I must speak to her, though I had only a 
 vague sense of what I would say to make my peace 
 with her. As she was moving away after the set 
 was finished, I stood before her, so that she could 
 not any longer ignore my presence. 
 
 She flushed a little, but did not smile as she 
 gave me her hand. 
 
 " Have you no partner, Mr. O'Grady ? " she asked, 
 in a coldly conventional tone, as if she were ad- 
 dressing a stranger. " I must find you one." 
 
 "Not yet, please," I exclaimed hurriedly. "I 
 want to speak with you for a moment. Let us go 
 
206 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 into the garden — do, pray, Bertha, just for a 
 moment." 
 
 I think she might have yielded ; but just as I 
 was about to follow up the slight advantage I had 
 gained, Eyre came across the lawn. 
 
 "You will be my partner for this set. Miss 
 Colquhoun, will you not ? " he asked, with his 
 usual confidence. "O'Grady, will you make up 
 the fourth with Miss Carroll?" 
 
 I remembered the wager, and instinctively my 
 eyes rested on the pink rose which Bertha wore at 
 her throat. Eyre noticed the direction of my 
 glance. He smiled meaningly at me ; and with a 
 sickening feeling of hatred for Eyre, and of despair 
 for myself, I joined Miss Carroll at the other side 
 of the court. 
 
 The game ended quickly and ignominiously for 
 me. I was not at any time a match for Eyre at 
 tennis, and now my eyes were so full of rage and 
 fury that I could see nothing. Eyre's supercilious 
 smile of triumph maddened me, so that I longed to 
 spring at his throat. 
 
 It was not possible to mistake Bertha's intention. 
 Indeed, it was hardly creditable to my intelligence 
 that she should have made it so obvious. I 
 watched them enter by the gate, and disappear 
 
JEALOUSY, CRUEL AS THE GRAVE 207 
 
 in the tangled old garden. Then, scarcely knowing 
 what I did, I followed them, answering at random 
 the fire of questions which Miss Carroll kept up 
 by my side. 
 
 It was a quaint, old-fashioned garden, with thick 
 rows of box edging the flower-beds and straggling 
 fruit-trees that had long escaped the pruner's 
 hands, their boughs still rich with the fair promise 
 of the autumn yield. 
 
 We turned the corner of the pathway, and saw 
 Bertha and Eyre approaching. My first impulse 
 was to turn back, but I conquered it and went on. 
 The path was hardly wide enough for two to walk 
 abreast. 
 
 I drew back to let Miss Carroll pass first, while 
 Ejrre fell in behind his companion. Something 
 like fear was in Bertha's face as she looked at me ; 
 she half-halted as if to speak, but, without meeting 
 her eyes, I stood aside to make way for her. 
 
 I saw a triumphant smile on Eyre's face. As he 
 passed he raised his left hand to the lapel of his 
 coat. My cup of bitterness was full. Eyre had 
 won his wager. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 " The lie was dead 
 And damned, and truth stood up instead." 
 
 I HAD fled from the garden-party with my heart 
 almost bursting with anger, and for several days I 
 was conscious of a recklessness and exhilaration 
 which had in them the elements of feverish 
 triumph. 
 
 But as the fire of my passion gradually died out, 
 I realised the full measure of my wretchedness. 
 Hope and ambition seemed suddenly to have 
 vanished from my life, and I felt like a rudderless 
 ship at the mercy of wind and wave, and with no 
 volition of its own. 
 
 Daly had said that a woman will forgive every- 
 thing to the man she loves. Bertha had not for- 
 given me. The conclusion was inevitable. Her 
 conduct had been unmistakable, and left no margin 
 for doubt. She had chosen the most cruel means 
 of waking me from my dream. 
 
 I had urged Daly to give Izod up, and had pitied 
 
 him because he loved her. 
 
 208 
 
"THE LIE WAS DEAD AND DAMNED" 20g 
 
 Now it seemed incredible that I should ever 
 have thought that he stood in need of pity. He 
 had no doubt — there was room for none — that 
 Izod loved him. Now I understood how little 
 everything else mattered: 
 
 For days I sported my oak, and shut myself 
 up alone, with the vultures of anger and despair 
 gnawing at my heart in silence. I pleaded illness 
 as my excuse for not enjoying my newly acquired 
 freedom from the necessity of working, and I had 
 already become ill enough to justify the plea. 
 
 On Trinity Monday the list of new Scholars was 
 declared, and a crowd of men rushed to my rooms 
 with boisterous congratulations on my success. 
 
 I had been looking forward to the result with 
 indifference ; but as soon as I learned that I had 
 achieved the object which I had so long desired, I 
 experienced a reaction from my former depression. 
 Indeed, I should have been more than human to 
 remain untouched by the very evident pleasure 
 which my College friends felt at my success. 
 
 With something like my old cheerfulness I set 
 
 about making the necessary preparations for the 
 
 spree, which always celebrates such an event. I 
 
 would gladly enough have omitted Eyre from the 
 
 number of my guests had it been possible, but it 
 
 o 
 
2IO 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 was not, and, after all, it would make but little 
 difference. 
 
 There is scarce anything so characteristic of life 
 in Trinity as the spree. 
 
 The reckless gaiety, the spontaneous mirth, the 
 joyous laughter, the speeches with their ready wit 
 and hyperbolic phrase, the toasts, the songs, the 
 jests — these shall dwell in your remembrance, 
 echoes of the spring-time of youth, and sweeter far 
 than the reahsation of youth's fondest hope. 
 
 I was more fortunate than I had expected. Eyre, 
 whose presence would have marred the harmony of 
 our rejoicing, did not come, and I was spared the 
 necessity of playing the part of an unwilling host 
 to an unwelcome guest ; and that the congratula- 
 tions of the others were no mere lip-service, I was 
 fully assured. 
 
 It was Daly who proposed my health, and I 
 think his speech fell as a surprise on most of us. 
 We had expected eloquence from the most bril- 
 liant speaker in the Philosophical Society, and in 
 this we were not disappointed. But we had looked 
 for wit and humorous phrase itistead of the touch- 
 ing and almost mournful vein which ran through it. 
 
 And, when he closed his peroration by saying 
 that to this spree was consecrate one pigeon-hole 
 
"THE LIE WAS DEAD AND DAMNED" 211 
 
 in the memory of every one present, for that in all 
 human probability we should never all of us meet 
 together again, and certainly never under the 
 same circumstances as we had met together that 
 night, a painful sense of foreboding fell on us, 
 which I fear my own reply did not do much to 
 dissipate. 
 
 But as the night wore on, the chink of glasses 
 grew merrier, and song, jest, and laughter drove 
 away all semblance of gloom. 
 
 I was sorry when the end came; but it was 
 already seven o'clock in the morning, and after 
 singing " Auld Lang Syne,'' some thirty of us hold- 
 ing each other's hands and forming an unbroken 
 circle, my guests, one after the other, spoke their 
 last good wishes, and departed. 
 
 Daly alone remained behind with me, and waited 
 until Devil had cleared away glasses and bottles, 
 and got ready some breakfast for us. We extin- 
 guished the lamps, and let in the sunlight, which 
 had for hours struggled through the chinks in the 
 shutters. 
 
 We had hardly finished our breakfast when I 
 heard footsteps on my staircase. Daly and I in- 
 voluntarily looked at each other, and I knew that 
 we both anticipated the same visitor. Before we 
 
212 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 had time to speak, Eyre came into the room, in 
 his dressing-gown, wearing his eye-glass as usual. 
 
 He did not appear to notice the coolness of his 
 reception ; and indeed if he had, it would not have 
 made much, if any, difference to him. 
 
 " I'm sorry I couldn't come last night to join your 
 festivities," he said. " I had partly composed a 
 speech in your honour, with several admirable bons 
 mots, which, I'm sure, would have delighted you." 
 
 " Thanks, Eyre, I'm much obliged to you," I an- 
 swered. "I hope you won't think it necessary 
 to make the speech, now that the occasion is 
 over." 
 
 " No, I don't ; but I should just like to mention 
 one little mot I intended making, with your permis- 
 sion, O'Grady, and yours too, Daly." Then, as we 
 did not reply, he went on : "I was going to express 
 the hope that you would be as successful in the 
 Courts of Love as you were in the Halls of Learn- 
 ing. Happy, wasn't it ? " 
 
 I knew what he meant, but I resolved to keep 
 my temper. 
 
 " Yes, it's not bad — for you," I retorted. 
 
 " I thought you would like it," he replied, with a 
 grin. " And, by the way, Daly, what a selfish fellow 
 you are, and I always thought you would share 
 
"THE LIE WAS DEAD AND DAMNED'' 21 3 
 
 everything with a friend. It was mean of him, 
 wasn't it, O'Grady ? " 
 
 " What ? " I asked, with a foreboding of coming 
 trouble. 
 
 "Oh, you know — about that httle mermaid of 
 Chapehzod." 
 
 I glanced at Daly. His face had gone deadly 
 pale, and I saw his hands clench as he stood by the 
 fireplace. 
 
 " What of her ? " he asked, in a cold, strained 
 voice. 
 
 " She was very well when I saw her last," Eyre 
 answered jauntily; "but I think a little change 
 would do her good. Don't you think so ? I have 
 arranged to take her for a day to the seaside." 
 
 " Has she promised to go with you ? " Daly hissed 
 through his set teeth. 
 
 " Oh yes ; she was " 
 
 He did not finish his sentence. Daly had sprung 
 before him, his frame trembling with passion. " Liar ! 
 liar ! " he shouted, looking him full in the face — 
 " liar and coward ! " 
 
 The glass dropped from Eyre's eye; the sneer 
 left his face. 
 
 He struck out swiftly with his left hand; but 
 Daly dodged the blow, swerving to the right. 
 
214 o'grady of trinity 
 
 Before I could utter a word of protest the fight 
 had begun, and I was powerless to prevent it. I 
 would have given anything to have taken the 
 quarrel on myself. The odds seemed in favour of 
 Eyre. He was the bigger man, with a longer reach, 
 but the heavy dressing-gown rather impeded his 
 movements. Daly was lighter and more agile, and 
 wore only a cricket shirt, trousers, and blazer. 
 
 I do not think there was much to choose between 
 them as far as regards knowledge of the art, but 
 Eyre was the cooler of the two. 
 
 He seemed anxious to pin Daly in a corner, so 
 that his activity should not be of service to him. 
 
 Daly drew the first blood, getting in a blow on 
 Eyre's mouth, which began to bleed freely; but 
 trying to get in another, he missed, and before he 
 could recover himself Eyre landed one on his neck, 
 which sent him sprawling over the table. He was 
 up again in an instant, and I pushed the table into 
 the corner of the room. He fought more cautiously 
 now, and seemed bent on tiring his opponent out. 
 
 I throw open the door of my bedroom and let in 
 more light, and the sun fell on their flushed and 
 panting faces, and the blood -stains on Eyre's 
 dressing-gown. 
 
 Daly got in a swift blow just above his oppo- 
 
"THE LIE WAS DEAD AND DAMNED" 21 S 
 
 nent's belt, and Eyre seemed in distress. Then 
 recovering himself, he rushed, and landed a swing- 
 ing blow above the ear, and Daly came down to 
 the ground with a crash. 
 
 I rushed between them ; but Daly was on his 
 feet again, though he seemed tired and rather 
 dazed. I longed for some one, even Devil, to 
 come and help me to separate them; but no one 
 came, and they did not hear or heed my remon- 
 strances. 
 
 They seemed to have lost consciousness of every- 
 thing, save the desire for blood. 
 
 For a time Daly merely acted on the defensive, 
 avoiding the other's blows, as if saving himself for 
 a mighty effort. Eyre had grown tired of waiting 
 and seemed determined to end the fight. 
 
 Suddenly he made a mad rush at Daly. With 
 cat-like activity Daly swerved to the left and 
 ducked his head, then rising before Eyre could 
 recover himself, he struck him a tremendous blow 
 under the right jaw. This, added to his own im- 
 petus, sent Eyre sprawling full length, his head 
 striking the floor with a horrible thud. There he 
 lay motionless, while Daly stood over him with 
 heaving breath and quivering nostrils, like a 
 thoroughbred race-horse. 
 
2l6 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 For the moment I felt a wild throb of exulta- 
 tion at the downfall of one who was really more 
 my enemy than Daly's. But alarm lest Eyre 
 should be dead quickly took the place of this 
 feeKng. Daly was leaning against the bookcase, 
 still seeming half-dazed with his struggle and the 
 result of it. 
 
 I knelt down beside Eyre and forced some brandy 
 between his clenched teeth. He was only stunned. 
 A moment later he drew a deep breath and opened 
 his eyes wearily. 
 
 "I'm all right," he muttered, as I helped him 
 to his feet. Then as I was supporting him to the 
 door, he stopped and looked hesitatingly at Daly, 
 who was still leaning against the bookcase, pale 
 and exhausted. 
 
 " Daly, I beg your pardon," he said feebly, and 
 with an effort. "It was only a joke. It was not 
 true about the girl." 
 
 But Daly looked straight before him as though 
 he had not heard, and answered nothing. 
 
 I left Eyre at his own door, and that was the last 
 I ever saw of him. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 "CHOICE OF THE HEART'S DESIRE" 
 
 The most eventful term which I had yet spent in 
 Trinity came to an end, and I had heard nothing 
 of or from the Colquhouns. This silence destroyed 
 the last faint remnant of hope, which I still had, 
 that Bertha might give me an opportunity of 
 pleading my cause with her. But as the days 
 went on and they made no sign, I interpreted 
 their reticence as a proof that they were desirous 
 my intimacy with them should cease. 
 
 After summing up the evidence with what I 
 considered to be the utmost impartiality, I came 
 to the conclusion that Bertha's feeling for me 
 had only been a passing fancy, and that Eyre 
 had awakened in her the real feeling of love. 
 
 It was too absurd that the cause of offence, 
 
 which I had given on that unlucky excursion on 
 
 the river, should be great enough to turn love 
 
 into indifference. No, it could not be, I told 
 
 myself; but, in reality, since her feelings towards 
 
 217 
 
2l8 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 me had changed, she had made this the occasion 
 of breaking off an intimacy which she no longer 
 desired. 
 
 Having come to this important decision, I 
 attempted to take refuge under the segis of my 
 wounded pride; but the attempt was not very 
 successful. When I declared, in words which 
 sounded brave enough, that I would live without 
 her, that I would forget her, that it was not she 
 but my mistaken conception of her which I had 
 loved, my heart still gave the lie to my lips. 
 
 I tried to grow used to the thought that she 
 
 would belong to another — even to Eyre, whom I 
 
 hated with the intensity of a single passion — and 
 
 to tell myself that I did not care. But, the pity 
 
 of it, I did care and always should. I essayed to 
 
 murmur the lines — 
 
 " If she be not fair to me, 
 What care I how fair she be " ; 
 
 but I cast them quickly from mo as being un- 
 worthy of myself and of my love. No ; I said — 
 
 " Love is not love 
 Which alters when it alteration finds, 
 Or bends with the remover to remove." 
 
 Bertha might change — had changed — but I would 
 still love her. 
 
"CHOICE OF THE HEART'S DESIRE" 2ig 
 
 I was glad of Daly's happiness, although it hurt 
 me a little. On the day following his conflict with 
 Eyre he came to me and said — 
 
 " Dear O'Grady, congratulate me. I have seen, 
 what I ought to have seen long ago, that you were 
 right. Yesterday afternoon I asked Izod to be my 
 wife, and now that it's done I feel happier than 
 I've ever felt before. I know that with her beside 
 me I shall have no more blue devils at my hearth. 
 I shall tell my mother about her when I go home." 
 
 " Will she approve, do you think ? " I asked. 
 
 A little shadow fell on the brightness of Daly's 
 face. 
 
 " Yes, after a time," he answered. " Of course it 
 will be a surprise at first, but she will do anything 
 for me. I shall marry her the day after I take my 
 degree, and you shall be my only wedding guest." 
 
 And so it was agreed. 
 
 I think my uncle was rather puzzled by my 
 conduct when I went home. I refused to go to 
 any tennis or garden parties, and, instead, went 
 for long, lonely rides over the moors. I missed 
 my friend Michael Doolin and his cordial and 
 pleasant brogue more than ever, and my fishing- 
 rod hung idly on the wall. At first, my uncle 
 chaffed me good-naturedly on my silence and lack 
 
220 O'GRADY of trinity 
 
 of energy, and thougli he still tried to interest me 
 in his own pursuits, I think he understood. 
 
 My aunt, I believe, suspected something of the 
 truth from the beginning. She never spoke to me 
 of the Colquhouns ; but she showed her sympathy 
 by an increased tenderness towards me, and by 
 knitting socks for me with an amazing rapidity, so 
 that, at the end of the Long, I had enough to last 
 me a lifetime. 
 
 When I returned to College I found Daly read- 
 ing for classical Moderatorship. He was in high 
 spirits, and looking forward to his final examina- 
 tion with confidence and delight. I asked him 
 how his mother had received the news of his 
 approaching marriage. 
 
 " She was a little shocked at first," he answered, 
 laughing. "You see she has always regarded me 
 as an incorrigible boy. I imagine she thinks I 
 still believe as implicitly as ever in Santa Claus. 
 Well, she cried a little over me, and then con- 
 sented to ask Izod to stay with her until the 
 wedding. Oh, I know they'll get on famously 
 together, and in time she'll forget all about Izod's 
 birth and that sort of thing. No more blue devils 
 now, O'Grady, but an angel in their place. Izod 
 has banished them all." 
 
"CHOICE OF THE HEART'S DESIRE" 221 
 
 Then, as if he suddenly remembered, he laid his 
 hand caressingly on my shoulder. 
 
 " Dear old boy, things will come right for you in 
 the end, and you will be as happy as I am. It 
 was selfish of me to have forgotten. I wish I 
 could help you." 
 
 I pressed his hand in silence, well knowing that 
 my case was beyond his help. 
 
 However much I loved Daly and desired him 
 happiness, I could not but wish that he had found 
 it possible to postpone his marriage for another 
 year. I hardly dared think how much I should 
 miss him when he had left Trinity. But with 
 Daly action followed close on the heels of 
 thought. 
 
 When this " winter of my discontent " had gone, 
 I promised to spend half the next vac. as the guest 
 of Daly at his " old rookery," as he called his home 
 on the coast of Galway. 
 
 Izod was already there, and it seemed, from the 
 reports which came regularly to her betrothed, as 
 if she had captivated the mother as she had the 
 son. 
 
 One morning in early October, just a week 
 before the classical Moderatorship, while I was 
 puzzling my head over sines and co-sines and 
 
222 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 dreary mathematical formute, Daly burst ex- 
 citedly into the room with a letter in his hand. 
 
 " O'Grady," he exclaimed, " this is the devil ! If 
 it were a fortnight later I should not mind; but 
 now — it beats the devil." 
 
 I took the letter and read — 
 
 " Dear Ned, — Unless you come to the assistance 
 of Tom OTlaherty, you'll never see that unhappy 
 gentleman again. The Fates have combined against 
 me again, curse them, and just when I had a chance 
 of being even with the devils. But if you stand by 
 me, 111 circumvent them yet. I have put every 
 penny I possess in the world, and a damned deal 
 more, on Shameen's winning the Joycetown Steeple- 
 chase on the loth, that is, next Wednesday; and 
 he'd win it easily and save me from ruin if I could 
 ride him myself, but I can't hold a rein. I broke 
 my confounded bridle-arm yesterday hunting with 
 the Blazers, and I can't get any one to ride Shameen, 
 except Larry M'Kenna, the little Cork jockey, and 
 I can't trust him. To make a long story short, I 
 want you to ride him. You're the right weight, and 
 if Shameen doesn't get into one of his tantrums, 
 will win easily. If he does, you must give up the 
 race; but God send he won't, for he's dangerous 
 
"CHOICE OF THE HEART'S DESIRE" 223 
 
 then. I think it right to tell you this. So, let me 
 have a line the first thing if you'll come, and I'll 
 ' have rooms for you in the town. — Yours ever, 
 
 "Tom O'Flaherty." 
 
 I handed the letter back to him. 
 
 " What do you intend doing, Daly ? " I asked. 
 
 " What ? Why, ride him, of course. I couldn't 
 desert poor old Tom, even if I were to lose my 
 exam. ; but I shan't." 
 
 "You may lose something more valuable even 
 than Moderatorship, Daly," I said earnestly. " The 
 horse is dangerous ; so your friend admits." 
 
 Daly laughed out merrily. 
 
 " What a Cassandra you have become, O'Grady," 
 he cried. " You are growing dull as the times are. 
 As for me — 
 
 * Give to my youth, my faith, my sword, 
 
 Choice of the heart's desire. 
 A short life in the saddle, Lord ; 
 Not long life by the fire.' " 
 
 "Don't ride the horse, Daly," I said again en- 
 treatingly. 
 
 A shade of annoyance passed over his face. 
 " Your Saxon blood in you, O'Grady, has drowned 
 your Celtic spirit," he answered, with a touch of 
 
224 o'grady of trinity 
 
 bitterness. " I must for my honour's sake ride the 
 horse, and save, if I can, my cousin." 
 
 "Say or think what you will of me, Daly," I 
 answered, a little hurt at his tone ; " but don't ride 
 the horse — for Izod's sake." 
 
 The shaft went home. His lips quivered a little, 
 and I think he trembled. 
 
 " Even for Izod's sake I cannot refuse," he said 
 very slowly. "My honour is dearer to me even 
 than Izod. I must ride the horse. Away with 
 your warnings. ' Whoso loveth his life ' " 
 
 "Shall lose it," I interrupted. "And you love 
 your life." 
 
 " Well, be it so, O'Grady," he answered sadly. " I 
 love my life, and, as you will have it, I shall lose it." 
 
 " Daly," I cried, putting my hand on his shoulder 
 as he was turning away, " your life is more precious 
 than mine. Let me ride the horse for you. I am 
 a pretty good horseman, and 111 do my best. For 
 Izod's sake let me take your place." 
 
 "Dear O'Grady," he replied, his voice almost 
 choked with emotion, "I would trust my honour 
 and everything else I possess in your hands, but 
 it is not possible. I must ride the horse. If you 
 will — it is selfish of me to ask you — come to 
 Galway with me, will you ? " 
 
"CHOICE OF THE HEAET's DESIRE " 22$ 
 
 "Yes, I will," I exclaimed readily. "When do 
 you go ? " 
 
 "We must leave College at four o'clock. Till 
 then, farewell." He went to the door and then 
 turned back. " O'Grady," he said, " I have never 
 told you, but I feel as if I must tell you now, that 
 you are the dearest of my friends — next to Izod 
 and my mother, I love you best." 
 
 I could not speak. 
 
 A moment later I heard him descending the 
 stairs, singing as sweetly and as hopefully as 
 ever — 
 
 D'ye ken John Peel with his coat so grey ? 
 D'ye ken John Peel at the break of day ? 
 D'ye ken John Peel when he's far, far away, 
 
 With his hounds and his horn in the morning ? " 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 " A short life in the saddle, Lord ; 
 Not long life by the fire." 
 
 During most of the long, dreary journey to the 
 west of Ireland, Daly seemed thoughtful and rather 
 depressed. But after we had passed Athlone he 
 was seized with an almost feverish excitement. 
 
 " It does my heart good," he exclaimed, " to be 
 breathing the same air with Izod again. I must 
 run over to see her for a moment after the race. 
 Half a day more or less will not make any dif- 
 ference." 
 
 It was my first visit to the " Citie of the Tribes " 
 since my school-days, and I could hardly believe 
 that it was only a few short years ago since I had 
 left it and my boyhood behind me. 
 
 We reached Galway about half-past nine, and 
 Tom O'Flaherty was at the railway station 
 anxiously awaiting us. 
 
 He was a little man, with a clean-shaven face 
 and a very "horsy" appearance. His favourite 
 
"A SHORT LIFE IN THE SADDLE, LORD'' 22/ 
 
 occupation might easily have been guessed, even 
 without the aid of his gaiters and the gold hunt- 
 ing-crop pin which he wore in his scarf. He 
 carried his left arm in a black silk sling. 
 
 He had been eagerly scanning the passengers as 
 they alighted from the carriages, and when he 
 caught sight of Daly he ran forward with a cry 
 of relief. 
 
 " I was on tenter-hooks for fear you might not 
 come," he exclaimed, as he wrung Daly's hand and 
 then turned to greet me. "I've taken rooms for 
 you at M'Kenna's Hotel. Mr. O'Grady can put 
 up there too. Will you have supper first, or come 
 and have a look at Shameen ? He's looking splen- 
 did. It's a pity there is no time for you to try 
 him ; but perhaps it's as well as it is. He's stabled 
 just a little way out of the town, and will be taken 
 over to Joycetown in the morning. I thought it 
 better to keep him just as long as possible, his 
 temper is so confoundedly uncertain." 
 
 We got on a car, and drove about a mile to the 
 stable. 
 
 The horse on which depended the fortunes of 
 O'Flaherty was a beautiful creature, with a black 
 glossy coat and long clean limbs. He certainly 
 seemed as gentle as a lamb when he turned in 
 
228 
 
 o'grady of trinity 
 
 his loose box, and with his great liquid eyes gazed 
 a mild inquiry at his visitors. 
 
 His owner was meanwhile giving Daly " tips " 
 about the handling of him. 
 
 " Hell win in a canter if he keeps his temper ; 
 but if he doesn't, give up the race. The moment 
 he throws up his head with a shake and tries to 
 hold the bit, get him off the course by hook or by 
 crook. Once he does that he won't rise to any 
 jump: he'll go through everything. Keep your 
 eye open for any sign of this, especially at the last 
 jump; it's a solid stone wall, remember, and not 
 loose like the others." 
 
 My mind misgave me at these directions. 
 O'Flaherty seemed to read what was in my 
 mind. 
 
 " Ned, perhaps you had better not ride him," he 
 said ; " I can get Larry to ride instead." 
 
 But Daly would not consent. 
 
 "Is it show the Avhite feather on my native 
 heath?" he answered, laughing. "I'll wager this 
 race will be the talk of the county for many a day." 
 
 After a light supper with O'Flaherty we retired 
 to bed early. 
 
 For a long time I tossed uneasily on my pillow, 
 sleepless with anxiety and a sense of unpending 
 
"A SHORT LIFE IN THE SADDLE, LORD " 229 
 
 misfortune. What would I not have given that 
 this race were safely over ? 
 
 At last I fell into a troubled sleep, in which my 
 dreams more than realised my waking fears. 
 
 I felt tired and unrefreshed in the morning when 
 Daly came into my room, his face glowing with 
 health and beauty after his cold tub. 
 
 " Arise, 0 sluggard," he cried, " and come down 
 to breakfast. O'Flaherty has been out of bed these 
 two hours. I want to introduce you to another of 
 my clan, my cousin. Dr. Daly." 
 
 " All right, old fellow," I answered. " I shall be 
 down in a few minutes." 
 
 It was a bright, cold morning, and after my tub 
 I shook myself free of most of my depression. 
 
 I ran lightly down the stairs to the breakfast- 
 room, where Daly and his cousins were awaiting me. 
 
 " Mr. O'Grady of Trinity, the best of good fellows. 
 Dr. Daly, genialest soul and best bone-setter in the 
 county," Daly said, presenting me to the doctor, a 
 tall, handsome man, with something of O'Flaherty 's 
 sporting appearance. " Here's the breakfast at last. 
 I'm as hungry as a penitent in Lent." 
 
 It would have been impossible to feel gloomy 
 in such company. Both Dr. Daly and O'Flaherty 
 were good story-tellers, and whatever anxiety the 
 
^30 O^GEADY OF TRINITY 
 
 latter might feel as to the result of the race, he 
 showed none of it in his manner or conversation. 
 
 I admitted as we rose from the table that it was 
 the liveliest and merriest breakfast-party at which 
 I had ever had the good fortune to be present. 
 
 A little while later we were rattling out of the 
 town on a car, behind a fast hack, to the racecourse. 
 
 Daly's race was third in the list, and while he 
 and O'Flaherty went into the paddock, Dr. Daly 
 and I mounted the members' stand, which was 
 crowded with sporting men of every social degree, 
 but all now brought to the same speculative level. 
 
 Dr. Daly knew every one present, and as he 
 greeted one after another he whispered a joke or 
 anecdote about him. 
 
 "Got your instrument-case with you, doctor?" 
 one of them asked. 
 
 " Yes ; I never travel without it," was the reply. 
 
 " Ha, ha, hope no one will need your skill." 
 
 It was a good course, two miles in circuit, and 
 from the stand I could see the once familiar waters 
 of Galway Bay, and the blue hills of Clare in the 
 background. 
 
 The shrill cries of the "silver bookies" on my 
 left grew more insistent, and then suddenly became 
 silent ; the second race was over. 
 
"A SHORT LIFE IN THE SADDLE, LORD 23 1 
 
 Neither my companion nor I had taken much 
 interest in the result, although it was a good race 
 enough and well contested. We waited eagerly 
 until No. 3 went up on the index board. Then the 
 cries of the bookies broke out afresh. The betting 
 began at 20 to i against Shameen ; but gradually 
 the odds fell to 5 to i as the news leaked out that 
 the horse was showing wonderfully good temper, 
 for it was well known that the odds were against 
 not his racing powers but his temper. 
 
 The bell rang; the riders mounted and rode 
 slowly from the paddock to the starting-place. 
 There were seven of them, but Daly had not 
 arrived yet. I looked anxiously at my companion, 
 but he reassured me. 
 
 " Hell keep Shameen back as long as possible," 
 he whispered. " You may trust Ned, he knows his 
 business." 
 
 I turned and watched the horses return from their 
 preliminary canter to the starting-point. When 
 they had taken their places, Daly rode along with 
 O'Flaherty by his side, wearing his cousin's colours, 
 white and green. He nodded in answer apparently 
 to O'Flaherty's last words of counsel, and then 
 looked round him. His face was flushed with 
 excitement, but his figure betrayed no tremor. 
 
232 o'grady of trinity 
 
 He caught sight of me, smiled and kissed his 
 hand to me. O'Flaherty rushed up the steps, and 
 took his place by our side. 
 
 In another moment the signal was given, and 
 they were off. A deathlike silence of suspense 
 succeeded the tumult of excitement. Men and 
 horses seemed like a huddled mass, and for several 
 minutes I could not distinguish one rider from 
 another. Then I fixed my glass on the white-and- 
 green jacket and the thick brown hair of Daly, for 
 he rode with his head uncovered. Gradually I 
 began to see more clearly. They had turned the 
 bend on our right, and were racing almost parallel 
 to us. At the second jump a horse fell. My heart 
 stood still with fear ; but Shameen cleared it with 
 a bound, and came up two places to the third. 
 The first mile was covered by the three leaders. 
 
 Now the pent-up excitement burst out around 
 me; a confused babel of voices sounding in my 
 ears, " Wild Man wins," " Son of a Gun is second," 
 "Shameen is second," "Shameen is first." I felt 
 almost choking with joy and dread. There was 
 no doubt of it; Shameen was leading, and was 
 increasing his lead. 
 
 As he came up towards the winning-post a 
 great cheer rose up which almost deafened me; 
 
''A SHORT LIFE IN THE SADDLE, LORD " 233 
 
 but suddenly in the middle of it broke out beside 
 me a cry of agony and despair, and O'Flaherty 
 rushed wildly down the steps and along the course 
 towards the coming horseman. 
 
 "Turn him aside, Ned!" he cried, as Daly 
 approached the wall which stood between him and 
 victory, while the shouting was hushed in wonder 
 and alarm — " turn him aside, for the love of God, 
 Ned ! he cried, waving his hand vehemently — 
 " don't take the jump ! " 
 
 Whether Daly heard him or not, I do not know. 
 On he came with a smile of triumph on his face, 
 the others far behind. The shouting broke out 
 again and drowned O'Flaherty 's cries. Then I re- 
 membered OTlaherty's warning. Daly was within 
 a few lengths of the wall. I saw him try to lift 
 Shameen, his hands followed the reins, he bowed 
 his head ; then came a sound which seemed to tear 
 my heart in sunder ; a cry of horror arose, and I 
 found myself struggling frantically to get from the 
 stand with Dr. Daly in front of me. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 " For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, 
 Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer." 
 
 As tenderly as if he were a child or a woman, Dr. 
 Daly lifted him in his arms, the crowd standing 
 round us awe-stricken. 
 
 The smile was still on his lips, and the flush of 
 triumph on his cheeks. 
 
 The doctor raised his head, and in his face I 
 read the terrible truth. Gently he closed his eyes, 
 and pushed back the clustering hair from the brow. 
 
 " Is there no hope, doctor ? " I asked, in a 
 whisper. 
 
 "None," he answered huskily. "His neck is 
 broken." 
 
 He gathered him up in his strong arms, and 
 
 bore him from the course, the crowd making way 
 
 for us ; every head was bared, and many crossed 
 
 themselves and nuittered a prayer for the sweet 
 
 soul so untimely sped. 
 
 Selecting a waggonette from amongst the 
 234 
 
''FOR LYCIDAS IS DEAD*' 235 
 
 vehicles freely offered, the doctor laid Daly's life- 
 less body in it, and reverently covered it with a 
 cloak. 
 
 O'Flaherty's grief was terrible to witness. At 
 first he refused to believe that his cousin was really 
 dead, and besought Dr. Daly to apply restoratives. 
 Then, when he could no longer doubt the fatal 
 truth, he broke down utterly, reproaching himself 
 bitterly with having sacrificed Daly's life, and 
 bursting out into wild sobs of grief and despair. 
 By the time we reached the hotel he had relapsed 
 into a silent stupor almost as painful to witness. 
 
 We carried Daly upstairs, and laid him on 
 his bed, his hands crossed over his breast. Then 
 the doctor drew me aside and whispered to 
 me — 
 
 " I am going to break the news to his mother. 
 God help her, and me for having to do it. Don't 
 leave O'Flaherty alone for a moment while I am 
 away. I don't like his sudden silence. I shall be 
 back as soon as I can." 
 
 I promised that I would stay with O'Flaherty, 
 and the doctor pressed my hand gratefully and 
 went away. 
 
 All the long day I remained in the room. 
 O'Flaherty spoke not a word, but sat in the corner 
 
236 o'grady q-^ thinity 
 
 with his head bent on his breast. Every few 
 minutes a knock came to the door, and an anxious 
 inquirer asked if the news were true, and on hear- 
 ing that it was, departed sorrowfully, to be suc- 
 ceeded by another a little while later. But all 
 the time O'Flaherty made no sign. 
 
 It was near ten o'clock when the doctor re- 
 turned. 
 
 " I have broken the news," he said, " and God 
 grant I may never have to do the like again." 
 
 I could well believe him, for his face in those 
 few hours had become lined with suffering. 
 
 " How did she take it ? " I asked. 
 
 " As a mother the death of her only son," he 
 replied sorrowfully. " I am glad the young lady is 
 with her. Poor thing, and she was, I believe, to 
 have married Ned in a week or so. God help 
 them both." 
 
 " Can I do anything to help you ? " I said. 
 
 " No, at least not here. We are going to take 
 him home to-morrow morning ; the funeral," with 
 a little catch in his throat, " will take place in a 
 few days. No, there is nothing you can do except 
 tell his friends how ho died. You will catch a 
 train at midnight. You would like to see him 
 alone once more before you leave ? " 
 
"FOR LYCIDAS IS DEAD" 237 
 
 I bowed my head silently, and left the room. 
 
 Reverently I lifted the sheet from the face of the 
 friend who had been inexpressibly dear to me. He 
 seemed as if he were still asleep, the smile was still 
 on his lips, and the light of the candles which 
 burned at his head and at his feet gave to his face 
 the hue of life. 
 
 I knelt for a lew minutes at the bedside. Then 
 I rose and kissed the cold, pale forehead, and draw- 
 ing the sheet over his face again, I crept noiselessly 
 from the room. 
 
 I had taken my last farewell. 
 
 In the corridor I met a maid-servant sobbing as 
 though her heart would break. When she saw 
 me she made a sudden movement towards me as 
 if she would speak, and then suddenly drew back 
 into the shadow. I passed on, envying her the relief 
 of tears, for my own eyes were dry. I returned to 
 the room where Dr. Daly and O'Flaherty were. 
 
 A decanter of brandy and some glasses were on 
 the table. 
 
 " You have just time for a drink before catching 
 your train," the doctor said. " A brandy-and-soda 
 will do you good. I know you want it." 
 
 I drank the brandy and said good-bye. The 
 doctor came to the door with me. 
 
238 o'grady of teinity 
 
 "Good-bye," he said, grasping my hand; "and 
 remember, whenever you want a friend, you have 
 Jim Daly, for the sake of — " He wrung my 
 hand and turned away, thus eloquently finishing 
 his sentence. 
 
 I had not expected to be able to sleep, but ex- 
 haustion brought me some relief. During most 
 of the journey to Dublin I dozed, with occasional 
 interludes of wakefulness. I was still too dazed 
 to realise with all its poignancy the terrible event 
 of the day, and the merciful limitation which 
 Nature sets to human suffering tempered in some 
 degree my pain. 
 
 On my way to College I noticed on a newspaper 
 placard the line. Terrible Accident at a Racecourse. 
 I stopped my car and purchased a copy of the 
 paper. When I reached Trinity I went to my 
 rooms. My skip had not come yet, so I lit the 
 fire and put on the kettle to make some tea. 
 
 Then I opened the newspaper and read the 
 account of Daly's death, with a kind of morbid 
 sensitiveness as to details. These were correct in 
 the main, although there were some journalistic 
 inaccuracies. Underneath this there was a list 
 of names, of which one caught my eye as being 
 vaguely familiar. I looked again at the heading ; 
 
"FOR LYCIDAS IS DEAD" 239 
 
 it was a list of the successful candidates at the 
 recent examinations at the Royal University. 
 
 Under the heading of D.Litt. Degrees was the 
 name of Agnes Smart. Then I remembered. So she 
 had won the desire of her heart, and Daly ? 
 
 Then I fell to wondering how the news would 
 affect her. It was strange that the two names 
 should occur thus together for the first and last 
 time. The puffing of my boiling kettle roused me. 
 I put the paper aside. 
 
 "Tell his friends how he died/' Dr. Daly had 
 said to me. I drank my tea and went down the 
 stairs, and across to the Bay. 
 
 The door of Daly's rooms was open, and I 
 went in. Devil was on his knees before the fire- 
 place, polishing the grate. He looked up as I 
 entered. 
 
 " 1 was afeared we'd never get it done before Mr. 
 Daly came back," he said apologetically. "Mr. 
 Latouche and I have been hard at work for the 
 last two hours. 
 
 " Where is Mr. Latouche ? " I asked. 
 
 "He'll be back in a few minutes, sir. I'll be 
 ready to go to your rooms in a quarter of an hour ; 
 but, sure, will have to make his rooms look clean 
 in honour of the event. That's what Mr. Latouche 
 
240 o'grady of trinity 
 
 says. An' he won the race ; bedad he's a great 
 rider — there's not many hke him." - 
 
 I turned to leave the room, and stood face to 
 face with Latouche. 
 
 " Ah, you're back ! " he exclaimed, his face beam- 
 ing with excitement. "I was afraid our spring 
 cleaning wouldn't be over in time. Where's Daly ? " 
 
 " He hasn't come back," I replied, seeking wretch- 
 edly the easiest way to break the news to him. 
 
 " Why hasn't he ? " he asked, with a note of 
 alarm in his voice. 
 
 " He's ill — he's hurt," I stammered. 
 
 " 0 my God ! " Latouche cried out — " he's dead, 
 he's dead ! I see it in your face. Dead ! dead ! — 0 
 my God ! " and he threw himself on the lounge, 
 and buried his face, sobbing and crying. 
 
 I looked at him helplessly for a moment, then 
 knowing that I had no consolation to offer, I went 
 out, leaving him crying and moaning, and Devil 
 blubbering by the fireside. 
 
 In Parliament Square I met Sullivan. He had 
 already heard the news. He shook hands with 
 me in silence, and then asked me how it had 
 happened. In a few words I told him. 
 
 When I had finished, a blackbird sang out, 
 breaking the silence. 
 
"FOR LYCIDAS IS DEAD'' 24 1 
 
 Sullivan looked up suddenly, and then quoted 
 softly — 
 
 " There's a bird on the under bough, 
 Fluting ever more and now : 
 * Keep — young ! ' but who knows how ? " 
 
 " Daly ! " I murmured, as we turned into the 
 New Square to look for Martin. 
 
 Q 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 " The world were not so bitter 
 But a smile could make it sweet." 
 
 The loss of Daly was irreparable. His strong 
 and attractive personality had bound together his 
 common friends, even those of the most different 
 and irreconcilable tastes. Now that the link was 
 severed, Daly's friends drifted apart and broke up 
 into smaller knots. 
 
 Sullivan and Martin were left, as well as my old 
 schoolmate Bobs, and the memory of our dead friend 
 kept us still more closely together, for to us he 
 had been nearer, and with us more intimately asso- 
 ciated during the last year of his life. Of Eyre I 
 had seen nothing since the day I had left him at 
 his door, but he was believed to have gone abroad. 
 
 Bobs had given up the study of classics in despair, 
 and had sorrowfully admitted his doom as a scientist; 
 and Martin was near the end of his law course. 
 
 A few days after I had brought the fatal news to 
 
 College, Latouche had gone home, and I learned 
 
 later that the shock of losing the friend whom he 
 
 242 
 
"THE WORLD WERE NOT SO BITTER" 243 
 
 loved devotedly, had so affected his already weak 
 constitution, that his physician had convinced his 
 mother of the undesirability of his continuing his 
 academic career. 
 
 The cloud which had tinged with gloom the care- 
 less happiness of youth, although, as time went on, it 
 grew lighter, yet was never altogether dissipated. 
 
 I had at first found life at College almost un- 
 endurable without Daly ; but although I had loved 
 him at least as well as any of the others did, yet 
 I had an additional reason for my grief which they 
 knew nothing of 
 
 Although months had gone by, neither Mrs. 
 Colquhoun nor Bertha had shown any sign of re- 
 lenting, nor given me any ground for hoping that 
 I might be forgiven. Sometimes I thought of 
 going boldly to Lucan and of seeking an interview 
 with Bertha, but then a feeling half of shame, half 
 of wounded pride, prevented me. 
 
 One day, shortly before the end of midsummer 
 term, I was sitting in my room smoking, and 
 miserably recalling the year before and what it 
 had promised. I heard steps approaching my 
 door. I went out, half expecting to see my uncle, 
 who was coming to spend a few days in Dublin 
 with me before I " went down," 
 
244 o'grady of trinity 
 
 When I threw open the door I saw not my uncle, 
 but Captain Lang. He laughed at my surprise. 
 
 " Ha, ha, my boy, never expected to see an old 
 fogey like me at this elevation ! " he exclaimed, 
 as he struggled hard for breath. "It's no easy 
 matter to convey fifteen or sixteen — it may be 
 more for all I know — stone up these stairs of 
 yours. But give me a glass of beer, my lad, and 
 then I want to have a talk with you." 
 
 " My dear captain," I answered, " I'm delighted 
 to see you. I wish I had something better to offer 
 you than beer, though it is in good condition." 
 
 " I want nothing better, my lad," Captain Lang 
 replied, draining the glass. And then looking at 
 me with a humorous smile, he went on : " So you're 
 glad to see me, eh ? Well, boy, I spent yesterday 
 afternoon with the Colquhouns; does that make 
 you any more glad to see me ? " 
 
 My heart began to beat painfully. In spite of 
 myself, my voice trembled as I asked in turn — 
 
 " Why should it make any difference to me ? " 
 
 " Come now, my boy," he said, " you needn't 
 mind taking an old chap like me into your con- 
 fidence. You did so once before, you know. Tell 
 me all about it; and then perhaps I may tell 
 you something in return." 
 
"THE WORLD WERE NOT SO BITTER" 245 
 
 So I told him about the river excursion and the 
 garden-party. He listened in silence, only mutter- 
 ing when I mentioned Daly, " Poor fellow ; saddest 
 thing I ever knew." When I came to the end of 
 my story he said, "And Miss Bertha saw you 
 kiss the girl Well, well, and that's the cause 
 of it all." 
 
 "No, she didn't see me kiss her," I burst out, 
 hoping rather disingenuously that Captain Lang 
 might take it as a denial that I had kissed Bridget 
 ConoUy. But Captain Lang burst out laughing. 
 
 " Don't be so indignant, boy," he replied ; " and 
 even if you had kissed the girl, there'd be no great 
 harm in it. A young chap can't always be as cir- 
 cumspect as — as — his lady-love might wish; but 
 of course ladies do regard these things as more 
 serious offences than we do. But you have made a 
 great mistake in sulking in your tent because Miss 
 Bertha chose to punish you for your momentary 
 faithlessness by flirting with that fellow Eyre. 
 You should have eaten humble pie, and then 
 you would have been rewarded by her forgive- 
 ness. In my time a young fellow wouldn't have 
 given up the game so easily." 
 
 " What could I do when she refused to give me 
 an opportunity of explaining the matter to her 
 
246 o'grady of trinity 
 
 privately ? I couldn't have asked her forgiveness 
 before a crowd of people ? " I inquired rhetorically. 
 
 " Why the devil didn't you lie in wait for her, 
 if you had to spend weeks or months to do it, and 
 compel her to listen to you. I don't know what 
 the young fellows are coming to. Hanged if I 
 don't think I deserve her better myself than you, 
 who don't know how to win her. Now I want to 
 know if you really love the girl as much as ever." 
 
 "A thousand times more," I cried out vehe- 
 mently ; " she is dearer to me than all the 
 world." 
 
 " Very well. Now, I've come as a sort of irregu- 
 lar ambassador — not a plenipotentiary, you under- 
 stand, for how can any one have those credentials 
 in the court of love, save the lover himself ? And 
 now I will let you into a little secret — if you go 
 to Miss Bertha and ask her forgiveness I think 
 you will obtain it." 
 
 " O captain ! " I exclaimed, almost overcome 
 with delight, " how can I thank you ? You have 
 made me the happiest man in the world. And 
 Bertha loves me still. I can scarcely believe it." 
 
 "You may believe it; though why you didn't 
 try to find it out before passes my comprehension," 
 he answered. But I did not heed him. 
 
"THE WORLD WERE NOT SO BITTER" 247 
 
 " When shall I go, captain ? " I asked impatiently. 
 " Shall I go now ? " 
 
 " No, my boy ; you'd better wait until you hear 
 from them," he replied ; " perhaps to-morrow. Are 
 you free to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Yes — any time. I'm expecting my uncle to- 
 day, but that won't matter." 
 
 " Ah, will Colonel O'Grady be in town then too ? 
 No, as you say, it won't matter ; but Mrs. Colquhoun 
 might like to see him. Good-bye, boy, or rather 
 aub revoirr 
 
 And the captain went out, leaving me in a 
 rapture of almost incredible delight. 
 
 My uncle arrived during the afternoon. I dined 
 with him, and afterwards we went to the theatre 
 together. I felt like a condemned man reprieved, 
 like a prisoner just set free from the chains of his 
 thraldom. 
 
 The change in my manner could hardly have 
 escaped the notice of even a less observant person 
 than Colonel O'Grady. Although I gave him no 
 explanation, I knew that he understood. The 
 morning post brought me a little note from Mrs. 
 Colquhoun, asking me to lunch with them that day. 
 At the same time came a similar request to my uncle. 
 I took it to him, and he smiled as he read it. 
 
248 o'grady of trinity 
 
 " I suppose we must go, Hubert," he said, " espe- 
 cially as there is hardly time left us to decline." 
 So we went. 
 
 Mrs. Colquhoun was alone in the [drawing-room 
 when we entered. I looked round expecting to see 
 Bertha. Mrs. Colquhoun srailed. 
 
 "Bertha is somewhere in the garden," she ex- 
 explained; "would you mind fetching her? The 
 luncheon-bell will soon be ringing." 
 
 I needed no second bidding, but hurried out 
 through the open French window to the lawn and 
 thence to the garden. I found her there. 
 
 We did not return immediately. Indeed, the 
 hmcheon-bell may have rung, but we did not hear it. 
 
 We came back to the drawing-room at last. Mrs. 
 Colquhoun and Colonel O'Grady were standing 
 together in earnest converse, and I noticed that 
 the lady's cheeks were wet with tears. 
 
 With a little cry Bertha ran to her mother and 
 buried her face on her shoulder. My uncle gripped 
 my hand fast in his and murmured, "God bless 
 you, boy. I hope you may be happy." 
 
 Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. 
 Edinburgh and London