“She’s the lodgekeeper’s daughter,” said my cousin.
“She looked very pretty.”
“Yes, she’s not bad looking,” he said indifferently. “There are plenty of good-looking girls in these parts.”
The drive sloped down through a park to the level of a turf bog, which it skirted for some distance, and then entered a thick clump of trees, through which the moonlight only penetrated sufficiently to let me see that they were growing in a species of reedy swamp, from which, on this cold night, a low frosty mist was rising. We were soon out again into the moonlight, the horses quickening up as they came near their journey’s end. I saw a sudden gleam of sea in front, and on the left a long, low house, looking wan and ghostly in the moonlight.
CHAPTER IV.
THE MASTER OF DURRUS.
“My father’s brother; but no more like my father than I to Hercules.”