The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1879-10-04

prlSOnmenI lOr lneII, pIOpdpiy 10 peitai SCI
yitude?''
He said the words hardly and sternly
81 don't know what right you have to
cross-examine a prisoner in private" said L;
''but | do say SO, if it condemned me to be
hanged" added |, for there was no going
back now and | wasn't going to be bullied
by any man.
''Do you own this young Irish gentleman
for your brother, Grace"' asked he half
turning round.
My heart gave a great leap in me as saw
that Grace was there too: but L tried to keep
myself calm, and made all the signs L could
to her to own me and stand up Tor her own
good name. For to have gone through all
this for nothing would have been too hard,
not to speak of the waste Of it. We Con-
nors have wasted enough without wasting
anything more.
II thank you with all my heart, Mr.. Con-
nor" said she, looking at me as she'd never
looked yet, and God bless her for it, and for
every look she ever gave me! ''And how
shall l ever thank you enough, or get you to
forgive me for
could hear the tears coming before they
came; but they wern't like the last tears I'd
seen her in-theses were more content and
quiet-and she tried to go on:
"For having left you last night to"
But she couldn't go on, after all; and oh,
if I could only have had her as near me as
last night, think I'd have known what to
do.
''Mr. Connor,'' said the gentlaman, strik-
ing in to save her from trying to speak
while she was crying, II believe Grace; and
without the least grain of offence, l do not
believe YOU What reason you have had for
trying to serve family of whom you know
nothing is past my guessing, as much as it
is past my gratitude; but since you have
tried you will be glad to hear that thanks to
your throwing the constables off the traces,
the unfortunate young man whom you be-
once more-never, trust, to return. No,
Grace, never; and it is best so, and you
know it as well as |.
Was it a trap that was being laid for
me?
s'Then assure you,' said L, ''that you
owe me no gratitude in life, for l had not
the slightest intention CT befriending any
body at all. You say that my names Con-
nor and that Pm an Irishman, and you
have no more reason for saying either than
for being grateful. If l like the name Brand
better, I've right to fake itr and if I've a
fancy for being in penal servitude, it's moth
ing to anybody but me. Perhaps you'll tell
me first of anything why you think my name
isn't Thomas Brand, and why you take me
for an Irishman? 1t can't be the accent, for
I've got no accent at all Of any sort, not even
an English one."
And that was true; for though many peo-
pie say that I've never forgotten Dublin in
my speech, who should know better than a
Dublin man that Dublin is the only place in
the world that has the distinction of having
no accent at all?
''I will tell you," he said, very gravely,
r
He would not have refused three hundred a
year with scorn. 1t was Mr.. Frye's telling
me this that brought me here; for fear lest
some strange and terrible injustice should
be DONE"
II don't see why a man should sell his
soul for three hundred pounds" said 1, and
[ didn't see it then; though since I've been
older I've learned that it isn't quite such an
unheard of thing. anyhow, perhaps you
will let me know who it is Pm speaking
to-
''I am the Marquis of dorchester"
"Thank you, my lord,'' said, "for letting
that it makes things much more plain
''When this foolish child" said he,
heard that her brother was in danger Of ar
rest, instead of trusting to me to see him
safe from the worst, if only for his names
sake, she laid an absurd plan for carrying
him off by night into hiding with some yet
siller friends of hers at Walthamstow, as if
we lived in the Middle Ages. Grace, it is
only due to Mr.. Conner that it should be
explained. The coachman, whom she had
to take into her confidence, served her Sc
well that when he found the carriage pur-
sued, he-But why should l tell you any
more of this miserable story, miserable at its
best, when you must now understand it as
well as I? Grace has told me of your eager
ness to redeem your mistake, when you
found you had made one-of your honorable
attempt to shield her, when nothing else
was left for you to do. Can you forgive her
for her silence when she found that your
chivalry was giving her brother time and
misleading the officers? And what can do
for you in return?'
What would he have said, l wondered, if
she had told him all the things I'd said to
mistake at all? [ colored up when thought
of them; and somehow, without looking,
knew that she was coloring too.
''She was quite right to hold her tongue"
said L ''for hats all l wanted; and if her
brothers. clear off, Pm glad of it, for he's q
better fellow than you might take him for''
Pm glad / said that, for the look it brought
me-'there's nothing more to be done; No,
thank you, my lord. There's nothing you
can do for me; and don't like selling things
of that kind. But there's one thing I'll like
you to do; and that is, never to let that
nights ride harm the young lady. There's
been enough of mistakes and falsepretences,
and don't want you to think that I've been
irving to get into penal servitude for your
names sake, my lord; for which it isn't
likely I'd care much, seeing don't even
know it, or even for her brothers, though,
as it turns out now, he was once a friend of
nv own. So there's no call to talk of being
grateful If there's the least chance of her
being the worse off for last nights drive, I'd
like her to remember all L said to her at the
first and that it's truer now than it was
then; and that, now her brothers gone,
she'll never need to feel alone as long as
live.' said for she'd told me herself of
her being goyerness; and | didn't want her
to feel even for minute, in the middle Of
her troubles, thatsthere wasn't somebody in
the world enough in love with her to go to
the gallows for her if need be. 1t mayn't
have been the most convenient time or way
of saying so, but I d already told her | loved
her the first minute l saw her among the
ferns; and l felt that if it wasn't Now it
might be Never.
"Mr. Connor," said Lord dorchester,
''Mr Frye told me that you are cool hand
and think you ale. When / asked you
what | could do for you, scarcely thought
you would have made my offer include the
hand of my niece, Lady Grace Brand"
had put my foot in it at last! But I've
always observed that when one foot's in, the
only way of getting it out again, is to put in
the other.
''My Lord said I, Lady Grace will tell
you herself that thought her the governess;
and if her being any body else stands in the
way of my doing my best to win her if she'll
let me try, Pm sorry thought wrong. But
for the rest, I'm afraid it wouldn't have
made any di ference to me if l had known,
for it isn't my fault if she's the bravest and
loyalest as we'll as the most beautiful girl in
the woodland as I'd say that of her behind
her back, why, of course, | must say it to
her face too I'd say it of her if only for
trying to help poor Paul in that very way
it wasn't a cold-hearted way, anyhow. And
so l can't 90 back on my own words. l only
ask for time, my lord. And as to myself,
make no doubt that the Brands are a fine
old Saxon family; but I've yet to learn that
Conner, with the blood of kings in his
veins"
''Of course-of course" said he, natural
ly accepting an argument which indeed
there was no answering. ''But think it is
l and Lady Grace herself who5have need to
ask for time if you will kindly allow us a
little. AS soon as you are released, call up
on me, and we will consider what else there
l can do for you-whatever is to be, you