"Then I'll tell you what," said I, "we'll have
the gathering there, in spite of fate. You and
I will go together; you shall introduce me to
all the Ballyhuckamores, and we'll have such a
house-warming as never was there before."

If we had not been walking down Fleet-street,
I believe Gorman would have thrown up his hat
and given three cheers. It was in July that
we talked thus; and when December drew near,
we had not forgotten our plan.

I need not describe Ballyhuckamore to you
who know it. I never was so agreeably
disappointed in any place. A snow-storm had just
cleared away as we drove to the Hall by a
short cut through the wood, with the dry
branches crackling like fireworks under our
wheels. A sulky red sun was dropping
behind a copse, seeming to kindle sparks in the
underwood, glowering on the boles of the oaks,
throwing crimson splashes on the whitened
knolls, and wisping a mazy murky light about
the deepening gloom of the brown stripped trees
on before us.

Gorman was in a state of wild exhilaration,
and I myself was in unexpected delight with
my new possession.

"Let us alight," I said, "and send this
machine back to the village whence it came.
We shall enjoy better to walk through this very
jolly wilderness."

And so it was that we arrived on foot, and
without fuss, at Ballyhuckamore Hall.

I felt curious to see the house, and quickened
my steps, as we came up a by-path in the shrubbery
which brought us out upon the gravel
sweep under the front windows. I remember
doing so, and how the next moment my attention
was fixed, not upon the old house frowning
before me, but upon a lady, who was standing
on the top of my flight of Ballyhuckamore
steps, with my Ballyhuckamore hall-door lying
open behind her. And such a lady! She held
up her green velvet riding-habit with both
hands, and her little boots were almost lost in
the snow, which lay thick upon the steps. She
had a handsome brunette face, and bands of
magnificent hair under her riding-hat. She
looked about thirty years of age, had a perfect
figure, and a jewelled whip, and seemed in the
act of taking counsel with herself upon the
weather. These were the items regarding her
that I summed up during the space of some half
dozen seconds.

"Tracey," said I, "is there any mistake about
the place; or did you ask any friends to meet
us here? Can this be little Peg?"

"Stuff and nonsense!" he said, "there is no
mistake, and I know nothing about it. Peg's
hair was as white as flax. Shabby Peg got up in
that extravagant style! I have no idea who this
may be. Some wonderful bird of passage."

Meantime the lady had tripped into the house,
whither we followed as quickly as possible.
We took off our hats to her in the hall, where
she stood transfixed by amazement at our appearance,
with her hand on the drawing-room door.
We turned into the dining-room, where a speedy
summons brought the housekeeper to us,
quivering in black silk, and blooming in a cap
like a pickled cabbage.

"Oh, sir, an' I give you my word it's hardly
ever I took my eyes for one blessed minute off
the avenue since mornin'; an' to think of your
slipping in unknownst to us afther all! An'
there's Lady Fitzgibbon an' her friends that
were drove in for shelter from the storm two
hours ago, an' her ladyship's runnin' in an' out,
an' thinkin' she'd never get away before you'd
arrive, sir. An' the dinner'll be done to the
minute, sir."

"And who is Lady Fitzgibbon?"

"Oh, sir, a beautiful lady—a widow lady, sir
—who has taken Kilbanagher Park and
furnished it splendid, so as it's fit to dazzle your
eyes, sir. An' she's that rich, they say, she'd
as lief eat bank-notes as bread-and-butter."

I looked at Tracey, and Tracey looked at me,
and we both looked at the window. It was
snowing more heavily than ever, and growing
dark besides. There was only one thing
to do. In a few minutes I was in the drawing-
room, and had transformed the uncomfortable
intruders into my bidden guests, who had
promised to stay the night under my roof. Lady
Fitzgibbon sat on my right at dinner.

How charming she was that evening! How
her eyes sparkled over the champagne, and how
those languishing eastern shadows under them
enhanced the brilliancy of her complexion! How
white her hands were, as she poured out our tea;
how musical her voice was, as she told us
anecdotes of every one in the neighbourhood. How
amusingly she described the confusion of
herself and friends when they heard of my arrival;
how charmingly she ridiculed her own appearance.
A riding-habit by way of evening dress!
"A pretty figure!" she said. A very pretty
figure I thought; and as for Gorman, he had
become her slave without a struggle.

What was she talking of, that she kept my
friend Tracey so enthralled? Doubtless,
introducing him afresh to all his old acquaintances;
for she knew every one, this charming widow,
and was gushingly communicative about her
neighbours' affairs and her own. Her friends
resided somewhere far away (the Antipodes,
perhaps), but she, being her own mistress, had
chosen to come, for change of air, to this
delightful country. She had resided here a year;
she was the centre of society in the locality;
she was adored by all who knew her. She liked
amusement, and believed that country
neighbours ought to be social, especially at the
Christmas season. These were the facts I
gleaned from her discourse.

O'Gradys, Desmonds, Burkes, O'Sullivans?
Yes; she knew them all. O'Shaughnessy?
Oh! (with a shrug), surely Mr. Tracey must
have heard about poor Sir Pierce?

No, Mr. Tracey had not heard.

"Oh, he ruined himself, you know, and then
he went astray in his mind. For some years he
has not been able to leave his house except on
Sunday, in dread of seizure for debt."