“And you drove all round the coast to see me, I hope,” said the girl, as they stood together under the battle-axes of the brave days of old, when the qualifications for becoming a successful knight and a successful blacksmith were identical.
“We drove round to admire the beauty of the lovely Daireen,” said The Macnamara, with a flourish of the hand that did him infinite credit.
“If that is all,” laughed the girl, “your visit will not be a long one.” She was standing listlessly caressing with her hand the coarse hide of King Corrnac, a gigantic Wolf-dog, and in that posture looked like a statue of the Genius of her country. The dog had been welcoming Standish a moment before, and the young man's hand still resting upon its head, felt the casual touch of the girl's fingers as she played with the animal's ears. Every touch sent a thrill of passionate delight through him.
“The beauty of the daughter of the Geralds is worth coming so far to see; and now that I look at her before me——”
“Now you know that it is impossible to make out a single feature in this darkness,” said Daireen. “So come along into the drawing-room.”
“Go with the lovely Daireen, my boy,” said The Macnamara, as the girl led the way across the hall. “For myself, I think I'll just turn in here.” He opened a door at one side of the hall and exposed to view, within the room beyond, a piece of ancient furniture which was not yet too decrepit to sustain the burden of a row of square glass bottles and tumblers. But before he entered he whispered to Standish with an appropriate action, “Make it all right with her by the time come I back.” And so he vanished.
“The Macnamara is right,” said Daireen. “You must join him in taking a glass of wine after your long drive, Standish.”
For the first time since he had spoken on the car Standish found his voice.
“I do not want to drink anything, Daireen,” he said.
“Then we shall go round to the garden and try to find grandpapa, if you don't want to rest.”