LITMIR.BIZ

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says my father; ‘cut for deal. The ace of clubs, – you have it.’

      “Now the whole time the ghost was dealing the cards, my father never took his eyes off of him, for he wasn’t quite aisy in his mind at all; but when he saw him turn up the trump, and take a strong drink afterwards, he got more at ease, and began the game.

      “How long they played it was never rightly known; but one thing is sure, they drank a cruel deal of sperits. Three quart bottles my father brought with him were all finished, and by that time his brain was so confused with the liquor, and all he lost, – for somehow he never won a game, – that he was getting very quarrelsome.

      “‘You have your own luck to it,’ says he, at last.

      “‘True for you; and besides, we play a great deal where I come from.’

      “‘I’ve heard so,’ says my father. ‘I lead the knave, sir; spades! Bad cess to it, lost again!’

      “Now it was really very distressing; for by this time, though they only began for a pint of Beamish, my father went on betting till he lost the hearse and all the six horses, mourning cloaks, plumes, and everything.

      “‘Are you tired, Mr. Free? May be you’d like to stop?’

      “‘Stop! faith it’s a nice time to stop; of course not.’

      “‘Well, what will ye play for now?’

      “The way he said these woods brought a trembling all over my father, and his blood curdled in his heart. ‘Oh, murther!’ says he to himself, ‘it’s my sowl he’s wanting all the time.’

      “‘I’ve mighty little left,’ says my father, looking at him keenly, while he kept shuffling the cards quick as lightning.

      “‘Mighty little; no matter, we’ll give you plenty of time to pay, – and if you can’t do it, it shall never trouble you as long as you live.’

      “‘Oh, you murthering devil!’ says my father, flying at him with a spade that he had behind his chair, ‘I’ve found you out.’

      “With one blow he knocked him down, and now a terrible fight begun, for the ghost was very strong, too; but my father’s blood was up, and he’d have faced the Devil himself then. They rolled over each other several times, the broken bottles cutting them to pieces, and the chairs and tables crashing under them. At last the ghost took the bottle that lay on the hearth, and levelled my father to the ground with one blow. Down he fell, and the bottle and the whiskey were both dashed into the fire. That was the end of it, for the ghost disappeared that moment in a blue flame that nearly set fire to my father as he lay on the floor.

      “Och, it was a cruel sight to see him next morning, with his cheek cut open and his hands all bloody, lying there by himself, – all the broken glass and the cards all round him, – the coffin, too, was knocked down off the chair, may be the ghost had trouble getting into it. However that was, the funeral was put off for a day, for my father couldn’t speak; and as for the sexton, it was a queer thing, but when they came to call him in the morning, he had two black eyes, and a gash over his ear, and he never knew how he got them. It was easy enough to know the ghost did it; but my father kept the secret, and never told it to any man, woman, or child in them parts.”

      CHAPTER IX

LISBON

      I have little power to trace the events which occupied the succeeding three weeks of my history. The lingering fever which attended my wound detained me during that time at the château; and when at last I did leave for Lisbon, the winter was already beginning, and it was upon a cold raw evening that I once more took possession of my old quarters at the Quay de Soderi.

      My eagerness and anxiety to learn something of the campaign was ever uppermost, and no sooner had I reached my destination than I despatched Mike to the quartermaster’s office to pick up some news, and hear which of my friends and brother officers were then at Lisbon. I was sitting in a state of nervous impatience watching for his return, when at length I heard footsteps approaching my room, and the next moment Mike’s voice, saying, “The ould room, sir, where he was before.” The door suddenly opened, and my friend Power stood before me.

      “Charley, my boy!” – “Fred, my fine fellow!” was all either could say for some minutes. Upon my part, the recollection of his bold and manly bearing in my behalf choked all utterance; while upon his, my haggard cheek and worn look produced an effect so sudden and unexpected that he became speechless.

      In a few minutes, however, we both rallied, and opened our store of mutual remembrances since we parted. My career I found he was perfectly acquainted with, and his consisted of nothing but one unceasing round of gayety and pleasure. Lisbon had been delightful during the summer, – parties to Cintra, excursions through the surrounding country, were of daily occurrence; and as my friend was a favorite everywhere, his life was one of continued amusement.

      “Do you know, Charley, had it been any other man than yourself, I should not have spared him; for I have fallen head over ears in love with your little dark-eyed Portuguese.”

      “Ah, Donna Inez, you mean?”

      “Yes, it is she I mean, and you need not affect such an air of uncommon nonchalance. She’s the loveliest girl in Lisbon, and with fortune to pay off all the mortgages in Connemara.”

      “Oh, faith! I admire her amazingly; but as I never flattered myself upon any preference – ”

      “Come, come, Charley, no concealment, my old fellow; every one knows the thing’s settled. Your old friend, Sir George Dashwood, told me yesterday.”

      “Yesterday! Why, is he here, at Lisbon?”

      “To be sure he is; didn’t I tell you that before? Confound it, what a head I have! Why, man, he’s come out as deputy adjutant-general; but for him I should not have got renewed leave.”

      “And Miss Dashwood, is she here?”

      “Yes, she came with him. By Jove, how handsome she is, – quite a different style of thing from our dark friend, but, to my thinking, even handsomer. Hammersley seems of my opinion, too.”

      “How! Is Hammersley at Lisbon?”

      “On the staff here. But, confound it, what makes you so red, you have no ill-feeling towards him now. I know he speaks most warmly of you; no later than last night, at Sir George’s – ”

      What Power was about to add I know not, for I sprang from my chair with a sudden start, and walked to the window, to conceal my agitation from him.

      “And so,” said I, at length regaining my composure in some measure, “Sir George also spoke of my name in connection with the senhora?”

      “To be sure he did. All Lisbon does. What can you mean? But I see, my dear boy; you know you are not of the strongest, and we’ve been talking far too long. Come now, Charley, I’ll say good-night. I’ll be with you at breakfast to-morrow, and tell you all the gossip; meanwhile promise me to get quietly to bed, and so good-night.”

      Such was the conflicting state of feeling I suffered from that I made no effort to detain Power. I longed to be once more alone, to think, calmly if I could, over the position I stood in, and to resolve upon my plans for the future.

      My love for Lucy Dashwood had been long rather a devotion than a hope. My earliest dawn of manly ambition was associated with the first hour I met her. She it was who first touched my boyish heart, and suggested a sense of chivalrous ardor within me; and even though lost to me forever, I could still regard her as the mainspring of my actions, and dwell upon my passion as the thing that hallowed every enterprise of my life.

      In a word, my love, however little it might reach her heart, was everything to mine. It was the worship of the devotee to his protecting saint. It was the faith that made me rise above misfortune and mishap, and led me onward; and in this way I could have borne anything, everything, rather than the imputation of fickleness.

      Lucy might not – nay, I felt she did not – love me. It was possible that some other was preferred before me; but to doubt my own affection,

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