No Defense, Complete

meet you at the sessions, or

a wild young Irish spirit to his friend Dyck Calhoun, but

assizes, was a year or two older than his friend, and, as Michael Clones, his servant an

is, in all relations of life affected by the ten commandments-he was above reproach. Yet he was of the sort who, in days of agitation, then common in Ireland, might possibly commit som

imself with debt, which his angry father paid. Yet there never was a gayer heart, a more generous spirit, nor an easi

t have captured the highest honours. He had interested people of place in the country, but he never used promptly the interest

nt and damning the Irish Parliament. He even became a friend of some young hare-brained rebels of the time; yet

e the homeward path to his father's place, Playmore. With the challenge and the monstrous good-bye, a stone came flying up th

hat. Perhaps I'll kill a rebel some day, and then they'll take me to the session

minute h

like this-like this, under the bright sun, in the soft morning, with all the moor and valleys still,

and patted h

ing was the thing-stalking the things that never turned up, the w

into the sky at some larks si

away. What have we done, we Irish people, that we shouldn't have a chance in our own country? Lord knows, we deserve a chance, for it's hard paying the duties these days. What with France in revolution and reaching out her hand to Ireland to coax her into rebellion; what with defeat in America and drink in Scotland; what with Fox and Pitt at each other's throats, and the lord-lieu

f curses; but never mind, it's a fine world, and Ireland's the best

could drink in the yellowish green, with here and there in the distance a little house; and about two miles away smo

Cave of Mary. Still farther away, towards the south, was the great cattle-pasture, where, as he looked, a thousand cattle roamed. Here and there in the wide prospect w

chael Clones said, and there never was a man

he thirst for excitement of the adventurer, all the latent patriotism of the true Celt; but his life was undisciplined, and he had n

future came to him. He did not know which way his feet were destined to travel in the business of life. It

tress, his tall, slender, alert figure, his bony, capable hands, which neither sun nor wind ever browned, his nervous yet interesting m

o the sky, he heard a human voice singing; and presently there ran up a littl

ad, low forehead, Greek in its proportions and lines. The eyes were bluer even than his own, and were shaded by lashes of great

aw it, because she was singing little bits of wild lyrics of the hills, little tragedies of Celtic life-just bursts of the Celtic soul, as it were, che

k gold, with little green ribbons here and there. The gown was short, and her ankles showed. In spite of the str

der, interest, and speculation. Then she threw her head slightly back, and all the curls gathered in a

ok at a beautiful thing in a dream. He did not speak; he only

r head gave a little modest toss, her fine white teeth caught her lower lip with a little quirk of humou

her question w

it's Dyck Calho

. "Isn't that enoug

lately heard of old Miles Calhoun and his wayward boy, Dyck; and here was Dyck, with a hu

d to her: "And w

of my mother, a widow, visiting at L

laug

y, and he held out a hand to her. "I wouldn't have y

she hesitated; then sh

should not," she said. "

idelong glance, and with a whims

ered Dyck. "For an Irishman, he's dull-and he's a tyr

are, and a bi

you going?" he

d y

oss the valley. "Do you see that smoke c

ore, your father's place. Loyland Towers is betwee

t," he said, puzz

, because I go to the righ

y, I'm going with you," he said,

!" she rejoined with a littl

lk. I'd like to lis

suddenly came upon an

ad on a stone and had lost consciousness. He was an old peasant of the usual Irish type, coarsely but cleanly dressed. Lying beside him was a

posed to the sun and sky. At sight of him Dyck and Sheila ran forward.

id. "He's a figure in these part

does he

n he's at home, but he's generally on the go. He's

his own me

k a stone. There's the mark on his temple. He's been lying here unconscious

heila lifted the injured head, he bathed the old man's face with t

ver saw," remarked Sheila; "an

They were eyes of remarkable poignancy and brightness-black, deep-set, direct, full of native int

of ye!" Then he looked at Sheila. "I don't know ye," he said whisperingly, for his vo

girl said, taking her hand

and I'm all right

ing eyes glanced fr

rela

l a half-hour ago

ehind his back. As they touched his back, their fingers met, and Dyck's covered the girl's. Their eyes met, to

ght that his was the hand of a master-of a master in the field of human effort. Th

ng on his feet now. He was pale and uncertain. He

ing you any more, t

You've been kind to me, and I won't forget either

eave you until you're ins

. Llyn was her mother's maiden name. Sheila had never known her father. Never to her knowledge had she seen him, because when she w

endurable hurt his wife had freed herself. Then, under her maiden name, she had brought up her daughter witho

Limerick where she lived; only now had she come to visit an uncle whose hospitality she had for so many years

d yards, to the door of his house, which was little more than a cave in a sudden lift of the

n. There was a bed to the right, also wholesome and dry, with horse-blankets for cover. At the back, opposite the doorway, was a fireplace of some size, and in it stood a kettle, a pot, and a few small pans, together with a cover

ogan laid his bag on the bed and wav

made ye comfortable then and stroked ye all down yer gullet. As for you, Miss Llyn, you're as welcome as the shining of the stars of a night when there's no moon. I'm glad you're here, though I've nothing to give ye, not a bite nor sup. Ah, yes-but yes," he suddenly cried, touch

own, and drew out a squat little bottle of cordial. The bottle was beautifully made. It

ed the bottle and smelled the contents.

nfuls of the cordial that'd do anny man good, no matter how bad he w

and took them from the shelf. He placed them in the hands of the old man, who dre

dial into them. As he said, there was only a good porridge

a lady, too, born in the purple, that'd be glad of a

hrinking on earth; as if the Lord stooped down to give ye a cup of blessing from His great flagon of eternal happiness. Ye've got two kind heart

he liquid to the last drop. With a laugh not quite so merry, Sh

dhrink, and I hide it away under the bedclothes of time, as one might say. Ah, ye know, it's been there for three years, and I'd almost forgot it. It was a little angel from heaven whispered it to me whir ye stepped in

d like some ancient priest who had performed a noble rit

irit; he i

and he saw with the same feelin

rd, and we've had a good drink-the best I ever tasted. We're proud to pay o

d man took the two cups in one hand, and, reaching out the other, let Sheila's fingers fall upon his own. He slowly crooked his neck, and kissed her

you could do with a little help some time or another, the same as the rest of us. For all that's

and as he did so a

what have you for yourself, Christop

er? There was no food cooked was what I w

ide to make soup, and what more does a man want? With the scone cooked and inside ye, don't ye feel as well as though ye'd had a pound of beef

oad, he saw two figures, the girl's head hardly higher than the man's

anny mad friends, but you'll come all right in the end; and that pretty girl-God save her!-she'll com

yes stared out into

of ye, and she not believing wan of them. But oh, my God, but oh!"-his clenched

o, for somehow they had come nearer together than years of ordinary life might have made possible. They thought of the old man and his hut, and then broke away into

visiting, Dyck put into her hands the wild f

's meet again, and soon! I'm almost every day upon the hill

s at her lips, for she had a feeling they would not meet on the morrow. Suddenly s

d, and, laughing over her shoulder, turned