Castle Blair: A Story of Youthful Days

by Flora L. Shaw

"My poor little one, I suppose it will come upon you some day soon; and yet, God knows, I am doing the best I can for them!"

He spoke to himself, but the words were loud enough to reach Murtagh's ears, and they told him more than years of explanations could have done.

For the moment he felt as if he could almost have loved Mr. Plunkett. He dashed out of the ditch and away across the park. Find Pat he must and would. He saw it all in its true light now! How could he have helped in such a fiendish plan?

It was easier to determine to find Pat than to find him. In the woods by the island, on every island in their part of the river, in the shrubberies, in every clump of trees that dotted the park, he searched but searched in vain; and while he looked it grew dark.

But though he hurried from place to place he was comparatively calm now. He had quite made up his mind what to do, and his energy was the energy of resolution. He was not going to betray Pat by warning Mr. Plunkett if he could help it, and having thoroughly searched the park, he watched Mr. Plunkett without any fear as he crossed it on his way to dinner.

Then he entered the house, and fetching himself a cup of milk and some bread from the servants' hall he sat quietly enough upon the door-step while he ate it. Mr. Plunkett would not return home till ten o'clock, so there was a long anxious time to wait before Pat was likely to be found, and as Murtagh sat upon the step he planned with an almost curious calmness all that must come after.

Pat must be helped somehow. The only way would be, Murtagh thought, to tell his uncle all. Then he hoped things would be put properly right for Pat, and it was with a lighter heart than he had had for a long time that he got up to continue his search.

But the night was pitch dark, and towards half-past nine he was still unsuccessful. He was keeping careful watch upon the time, and the suspense now grew painfully intense, for he knew that if he had not discovered Pat when the stable clock rung out a quarter to ten, there would be nothing for it but to warn Mr. Plunkett. Was Pat not coming at all? and if not, where and how should he ever find him?

At last he began to call gently, "Pat, Pat!" and after a minute a cautious, "Whisht, sir!" from some bushes on his right told him that Pat was there.

He bounded forward. "I began to think that I should never find you!" he exclaimed. "Here, give me the gun! Oh, Pat, to think how awfully near we were doing it!"