He shook his head and crossed to the fireplace. "I owe you forty pounds," he said in an unsteady voice. "I'll leave thirty here"--he drew out the notes he had shown her at Carrigmore, and laid them under the clock on the mantelpiece--"the other ten I'll--I'll give you to-morrow." But Clodagh scarcely heard. "Do stay! Oh, do stay!" Again he shook his head, and pulled the bell-rope. "I've put the notes here--under the clock." "All right!--all right! But, Larry, can't you stay? It's a horrible night." "I can't!" Then, as the door opened and Burke appeared, he turned to him hastily: "Burke, bring me a lantern. I want to get the boat out." At last Clodagh's mind was torn from its own concerns. "The boat! You're not going to cross the bay on a night like this?" Old Burke came forward, looking from one to the other. "Wisha, Masther Larry, is it crazy you are?" Asshlin turned his flushed face on the old servant. "We're all a bit crazy now and then, Tim. But I was never afraid of the sea. Get me the lantern!" Still Burke hesitated. But suddenly Asshlin stepped forward, with a look so full of pride and domination, that by instinct he succumbed. "As quick as you can, Burke!" And the old man hobbled off. There was silence between the cousins after he had gone. Asshlin leaned upon the mantelpiece, with his face averted; Clodagh walked nervously about the room, changing the arrangement of the silver on the sideboard, snuffing the candles that had begun to gutter, doing any aimless and unnecessary thing that could blur her sense of impending solitude. At last she paused in the middle of the room. "Larry----" she began desperately. But at the same instant Burke's step sounded in the hall, and his voice came to them through the open door. "The lanthern is here, Masther Larry!" Asshlin started. "All right! I'm coming!" he called. "Good-night, Clo!" He walked forward almost awkwardly, and took her cold hand. She looked up into his face, her own misery blotting out all other things. "Larry! can't you stay?" Asshlin passed his hand across his forehead. "Don't ask me, Clo! Good-night!" An instant later he was gone. She ran out into the hall on the moment that she realised her desertion. "Larry!" she called--"Larry!" But her voice was drowned in the gale, as Burke opened the hall door and the wind rushed in, filling the wide black hall. There was a confused suggestion of storm and lantern-light; a vague silhouetted vision of Burke, bent and small, and of Asshlin, straight, lithe, and tall. Then the door closed with a thud. Lantern, figures, and storm were alike shut out from her knowledge. She was alone in the great house. CHAPTER XIX