GOOD AND EVIL.
It was evening again at "Layton." The moon was shining down on Kathleen
O'Connor as it shone on her that night when Gerard walked beside and
tempted her. She was pacing the shadowed avenue with Denis Quirk beside
her. Their voices were low, mere faint murmurs to Father Desmond
O'Connor, who sat on the verandah beside old Samuel Quirk and spoke an
occasional word to the old man.
There was stillness in the garden, bright moonlight and dark shadows.
Overhead the heavens were glittering with a myriad stars. Well might
Kathleen's thoughts revert to that other night when danger paced beside
her. This night she had no dread, for Denis Quirk had been tried and
tempered by the furnace of suffering. Nevertheless, the girl's heart was
beating more rapidly than usual, because she recognised that this night
marked an epoch in her existence.
For three months since his wife's death Denis Quirk had abstained from
asking that which was constantly in his mind. This he did, not because
he felt himself bound by a specious loyalty to a false wife, but that
Kathleen O'Connor might become accustomed to him in his new position. He
would not hurry nor attempt to constrain her; he preferred to give her
time to consider him as one permitted to woo her honourably. He became
more attentive, more openly anxious to give the girl whatever she
desired, more courteous in speech and action; but he refrained from
asking the inevitable question.
As they walked side by side Kathleen had the feeling that Mrs. Quirk was
close to them. She could almost hear the voice calling "Kathleen" from
the drawing-room upstairs, but this night there was no note of warning
in the voice. She knew that "Granny" Quirk had looked forward to a union
between herself and Denis as the consummation of earthly happiness. She
believed that even in her present state of bliss her old friend would
rejoice in that union.
Denis Quirk softened his voice to a tender key that is not customary. As
a general rule he spoke in the tone of command or in a blunt, off-hand
manner. To-night he had chosen the note of entreaty.
"Kathleen" (he rested tenderly upon the word) "I have longed for you
many a day. Sometimes I have been torn by a tempest of passionate
desire. But I have always respected you, and that respect restrained me.
But if you had known the devouring furnace that has burned in me day and
night you would have pitied me. I was compelled to hold myself always in
hand, to avoid even an unguarded word or look, because I wished to walk
with honour beside me. Now I am free to speak all that is in my heart,
and that all is 'I love you and I desire you above all women.'"
Kathleen did not answer at once. She was moved by the passion in his
voice; she had come to love him, but she was afraid.
"I am frightened," she said in a low voice.
"Frightened of me?" he asked. "Why, I will protect you against the whole
world. There is no place for fear."
"You are asking me to give you myself, and if I give, I must give
unreservedly."
"Take any time you like to consider it. I can wait," he answered gently.
"No. I don't ask any longer time than a few minutes. Leave me alone for
ten minutes; then come to me."
Without another word he returned to the verandah and seated himself
beside Father O'Connor, lighting his pipe and blowing thick volumes of
blue smoke into the evening air.
Kathleen paced on alone. But suddenly the shrubs beside the avenue
parted and Gerard came out quietly. So softly did he step that he was
beside her before she recognised the fact. Then she shrank away from him
in terror.
"Kathleen," he said, "I've tried to forget you, but I can't. I came here
to-night to ask you to come with me; I heard that cursed Quirk speaking
to you. What can you care for an ugly brute like that?"
"He is as far above you," she said, "as that star is above the world.
How dare you even mention his name?"
He paid no attention to her remark.
"I don't come to ask you to share poverty. I offer you a good name and
a fortune," he said. "My father is dead and I am heir to great estates
and a time-honoured name."
"If you offered me the world I would refuse it," she answered.
"You loved me once----."
"Never. That was mere imagination on my part, not real honest love," she
cried. "Go, at once, before Mr. Quirk returns."
"No, I shall stay," he replied.
"Then take the consequences."
Denis Quirk's step was to be heard crunching the gravel as he came. When
he was near them Kathleen hurried to him.
Denis increased his pace until he came to where Gerard stood.
"I warned you not to come near this house," he said.
"The moth comes to the candle. Your warning was useless," said Gerard.
"Night after night I have walked this avenue with Kathleen O'Connor. Now
she is tired of me."
"Liar," cried Denis Quirk.
"Abuse cannot alter what I say."
"Put up your hands and defend yourself. I hate to strike a defenceless
man," said Denis, moved to fury.
"Do you fancy I am afraid of you?" Gerard asked tauntingly.
"Then take it," cried Denis Quirk, and his fist flew out suddenly, beat
down Gerard's guard, and stretched him on the gravel path.
"You have killed him," cried Kathleen in sudden terror.
"Not I. Such men as this never die."
Denis stooped and examined the prostrate man.
"He will live to lie again," he said. "I know him for a liar. Night
after night I have followed you, not because I distrusted you, but I
have seen him lurking about and I feared danger."
She came to him with outstretched hands and hid herself in the big man's
arms. They went side by side up the long avenue, and their steps seemed
to march to a triumphant anthem.
POST SCRIPTUM.
Grey Town after many years, and Grey Town in the early summer, when the
farmers were congratulating themselves on fat factory cheques. But a
changed Grey Town, for prosperity had transformed the town. It was no
longer merely a country centre for a pastoral and agricultural district,
but a busy industrial town, where the manufacturing interests were as
important as the farming interests; where every morning a stream of
workers flowed from the outside suburbs into the town; where there was
bustle and noise and confusion; where money circulated freely; where men
grew rich and proud in the power of their money bags. A happier Grey
Town? Perhaps not quite so contented as the lazy, easy-going, and
self-satisfied Grey Town, as Denis Quirk had found it, for here
comparative poverty stood side by side with riches, and suffered in the
contrast.
Prosperity had come to the town on sound lines, thanks to Denis Quirk.
He had provided that riches should not be accumulated in Grey Town at
the expense of suffering and discomfort to the poor. It was thanks to
him, so the Grey Towners said, that the factory area was separated from
the residential portion of the town. They also hinted in Grey Town that
he was largely responsible for the Government Bill, compelling
landlords to provide their tenants with sufficient space for a garden
and yard of greater extent than one might swing a cat in. There were
others in it, Grey Town acknowledged that; but their Member, their Denis
Quirk, was the prime mover.
He was rich now, and happy, but I may safely say that no poor man paused
beside his gate to hurl a curse at the oppressor of the unfortunate. He
still had enemies--his determined and combative nature made that
unavoidable--but his enemies were of those who had been prevented from
exploiting the poor by his agency. These termed him an enemy to
progress, their notions of progress being summed up in self-progress.
And they vowed that "that demagogue Quirk" should go out when the
country recovered its mental equilibrium, lost for the time in an absurd
humanitarianism. He was in his garden, sitting on a garden seat, with a
book in his hand, but work had been declared an insult by the two rosy
rogues, a boy and a girl, by the way, who had escaped from Nurse, now
vainly seeking them in the house. Kathleen was beside her husband,
watching in an amused manner the subservience of the master of men to
the children.
Kathleen, the elder, was a copy of her mother; Denis, the boy, promised
to be as good as his father; singly, they were powerful; united, as
to-day, they were irresistible. And they had decided that "Daddy" must
play a game with them, and the game should be hide and seek.
"Hide 'oo eyes and count," said Kathleen, junior, in a compelling voice.
"But Daddy wants to read," expostulated Mother, in a tone of entreaty.
"Daddy mustn't read to-day. It's Denny's birfday. Daddies don't read on
their little boys' birfdays, does they, Denny?"
"No," replied Denny, in a voice of conviction.
"What do Daddies do under such circumstances?" asked Denis, senior, in
an amused tone of voice.
"What their little girls wants them to do, doesn't them, Denny?"
"'Es," answered Denny, seeing no reason to controvert this reasoning.
"But it's not your birthday, Kath," suggested Mother.
"It's Denny's, and Denny gave it to me, 'cos I told him I wouldn't kiss
him if he didn't."
Here the peculiar injustice of this proceeding suddenly struck Denny,
and he began to cry, not in a quiet and subdued manner, as a respectable
boy would, but in a stentorian roar.
It was at this moment that Molly Healy came up the avenue, and she
rushed at and snatched Denny up in her arms.
"Were they cruel to my boy on his birthday? Never mind. Molly's brought
you something nice," she cried.
"Now, be under no misapprehensions, Miss Molly Healy. Neither Kathleen
nor I have done anything to deserve that scornful look. If you must
scold anyone, there is the culprit. Kath. has swindled Denny out of his
birthday."
Kath. had noted the result of Denny's roaring, and she argued that
similar conduct on her part would meet with similar treatment.
Therefore, she took up the strain of loud weeping, from which Molly had
interrupted her brother.
"Something for you, too, Kath.," cried the kind-hearted and impulsive
Molly, handing Kath. a parcel similar to that which the boy was hugging
in his arms. Straightway Kath. ceased from tears, and consented, when
Nurse appeared, to accompany her indoors and there investigate the
contents.
"I've done it at last!" said Molly, when she had ceased from bestowing
kisses on the children, greatly to Nurse's indignation, and had
permitted them to be led away.
"You don't mean to tell me!" cried Kathleen, springing up impulsively
and kissing Molly.
"Done what? Murder, suicide, or the Confiding Public?" asked Denis.
"Oh! you old stupid. You never understand," cried Kathleen.
"I claim to understand the English language when it is openly expressed.
But I lay no claim to a knowledge of female wireless telegraphy. Miss
Molly tells you, in the tone of one who confesses a crime, that she has
'done it at last.' If she will explain, I may possibly be able to change
the sentence from murder to justifiable homicide."
Kathleen went to him and whispered in his ear.
He rose, and grasped Molly's hand so firmly that she winced under his
pressure.
"And why was this not done years ago?" he asked. "Why keep an
unfortunate poor man constantly on the verge of suicide?"
"I was getting over Desmond," replied Molly! "It takes a girl a long
time to recover from a heart affection, and I was trying him to learn if
he was constant."
"Well, better late than never. I wish you and Cairns joy. Have you
mastered housekeeping yet?"
"There you are!" cried Molly triumphantly. "How should I marry and never
know how to look after the man's house? But I am getting on now, and I
don't expect to be much better this side of the grave, so when he came
with his monthly 'Will you?' I just dropped into his arms, and that
ended it."
"And what did Cairns do under those distressing circumstances?"
"He didn't know exactly what to do until I told him. Then he did it
fairly well for an amateur."
"And when do you intend to be married?" asked Kathleen.
"Next week, to be sure," answered Molly without hesitation.
"Impossible! It would be an outrage on the conventialities," cried
Denis.
"And haven't I been outraging them ever since I came to Grey Town? If
they expect anything ordinary of Molly Healy, they won't get what they
expect. Next week will be Easter, and Desmond here to marry us, and next
week will see Molly Healy Molly Cairns."
[Illustration: THE END]