"Well, a soft and gentle way. At first he struck me as being a man who was weak, mentally and physically. Later I had reason to think him a man of average, if not more than average, physical strength." "About how old was he then?" "I could not say exactly. Under thirty, I should think. He also struck me as a man of not quite good social position. His manners were uneasy, apprehensive, and his English uncertain. He was restless and ill at ease, and for my own peace of mind I was glad when I parted from him; for it struck me he would be much more comfortable if he and my husband were left alone together. "My husband spoke to me in the highest terms of Fahey, and said that although he wished nothing to be said about it just then, or until he gave me leave to mention it, Fahey had done him useful service in his time. That was all Mr. Davenport volunteered, and I asked no question. I was sure of one thing more--namely, that the less I was with Michael Fahey the better my husband would be satisfied. "I smiled when this conviction came first upon me. Up to the moment I felt it I had in my mind treated this Fahey as a kind of upper servant, who was to be soothed into unconsciousness that he was not an equal. For a short time I felt inclined to expostulate with Mr. Davenport on the absurdity of fancying Fahey could think of me save as the wife of his patron; but I kept silence, partly out of pride and partly out of ignorance of the relations which really existed between this man and my husband. You may, or may not, have heard of a circumstance which occurred shortly after my marriage?" "I remember nothing noteworthy. Tell me what it was." "At that time it was Mr. Davenport's habit to keep large sums of money in the house. Once upon his having to go away for a few days, he left me the keys of the safe in which the money was locked up. While he was away, an attempt was made to rob the house. A door was forced from outside, and two men were absolutely in my room, where I kept the key of the safe, when Fahey, who was staying in the village of Kilcash at the time, rushed in and faced the thieves. I was aroused and saw the struggle. Fortunately the men were unarmed. The light was dim--only my low night lamp. "The first blow Fahey struck he knocked one of the men through a window. Then he and the other man struggled a long time, and at last the thief broke loose and escaped by the way he had come in. Fahey had overheard the two thieves plan the robbery in the village, and had followed them that night to our house. My husband wished the matter to be kept quiet, and so it was hushed up. "The next time I met Fahey after that night I was alone on the downs. He was alone too. I stopped to thank him. I do not remember exactly what I said--commonplace words of gratitude, no doubt. While I was speaking I was close to him, and gazing into his face. I cut my speech short, for I saw a look in his eyes that told me I was not indifferent to him."