"I," laughed the other, "was never happier in all my life. Why, only to think that she is under this roof now, and that we are going on a long journey with her to-morrow, and that I am to be near her for a whole month! It's too good to be true." "I hope not." "Well, Jerry, I hope not too; but it seems too good. I know you are one of those men who never give way to their feelings until they know exactly whither their feelings are taking them. It isn't every one who has such complete self-command as you. I am willing to risk everything in the world for a woman. Some men are too cautious to risk anything." "There's a good deal of truth and a good deal of rubbish in what you say," rejoined Jerry, colouring slightly, and concealing his face from his companion by going to the window and looking out at the evergreens and leafless trees in the front garden. Alfred's last speech had not been exactly a chance shot. He more than guessed Jerry cared a good deal for Madge; but the tone of the other had exasperated him, and he made an effort to compel silence, if not sympathy, from him. Jerry was not prepared to retort. He did not want to deny or assert his own susceptibility to the unconscious arts of any woman; and, above all, he did not wish Madge's name to be introduced even casually. At last dinner came. It was an informal, a substantial, cosy meal. No special preparations had been made for the guests. There was no display, no stint, no profusion. Jerry sat beside Madge, and Alfred between Edith and Mrs. Davenport. Jerry was the most taciturn--Madge the most demure of the party. Mr. Paulton was chatty, cordial, and particularly gracious to the widow. Mrs. Davenport was polite, impassable, absent-minded. When they were waiting for the joint, Mr. Paulton turned to Jerry, and said: "Are you depressed at the prospect of spending a while with an invalid? To look at you both, one would think it was you, not Alfred, who wants change of air." "And so it is," said Jerry, stealing a look at Madge. In order to divert attention from her, for she felt her face growing hot, she said: "I believe the south of Ireland is very mild?" "Oh, very!" Jerry answered, with startling vivacity. "It's the mildest climate in the world; but the people are not particularly mild: they are full of fire and fight. I have no doubt Alfred will come back a regular Milesian. You know those who live a while in Ireland always become more Irish than the Irish." "Never mind," said Mrs. Paulton. "He may become as Irish as he likes if he at the same time grows as well in health as we like." "I intend coming back quite a Goliath, mother. I shall eat and drink everything I see," said Alfred gaily. "You would find some of the things in the neighbourhood of Kilcash rather hard to chew. I think Mrs. Davenport will agree with me that it would take Goliath a long time to make a comfortable meal of the Black Rock, or to make a comfortable meal on it?"