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Some distance beyond them was Captain Fagan of the Kilwangan regiment, who was paying court to Nora's sister Mysie.
What had happened, when she saw the three grave gentlemen at the door early in the forenoon, Mistress Kitty Fagan could not guess. Something relating to Miss Myrtle, no doubt: she wasn't goin' to be married right off to Mr. Clement, was she, and no church, nor cake, nor anything? The gentlemen were shown into the parlor. "Ask Miss Withers to go into the library, Kitty," said Master Gridley. "Dr.
Lindsay said. Kitty Fagan, who had evidently been taught her part, stepped forward, and removed the cloth which concealed the unknown object. It was a lifelike marble bust of Master Byles Gridley. "And this is what you have been working at so long, is it, Clement?" Myrtle said. "Which is the image of your protector, Myrtle?", he answered, smiling.
In spite of my precautions to secrecy, then, I half suspected that my mother knew all, from the manner in which she embraced me on my arrival, and received our guest, Captain Fagan.
It was a longish kind of a pauper, and there was some blotches of ink on the back of it, an' they looked like a face without any mouth, for, says I, there's two spots for the eyes, says I, and there's a spot for the nose, says I, and there's niver a spot for the mouth, says I." This was the substance of what Master Byles Gridley got out of Kitty Fagan. It was enough, yes, it was too much.
Seeing that the attempt was futile, and resulted only in loss to themselves, the enemy retreated in confusion, their flight being accelerated by shell and round-shot from No. 1 Battery, and musketry from our outlying posts. A serious loss befell the army on this day in the death of Captain Robert Fagan, of the Bengal Artillery.
Strangely enough, Myrtle herself was fascinated, as it were, by the apparent solemnity of this mysterious sacrifice. She had kept her eyes steadily on him all the time, and was still gazing at the altar on which her happiness had been in some way offered up, when the door was opened by Kitty Fagan, and Master Byles Gridley was ushered into the parlor. "Too late, old man!"
Dan, ubiquitous, cheerful, commanding, lending a hand to one set of men, directing another, came upon a station two short of its quota. "Where are Phillips and Fagan?" asked Dan, sharply. "They bunked in the steerage," replied a sailor, choking in the smoke weltering up through the hose vent. The young Captain's breath caught; but there was no time for sentiment.
One of them having been fixed to the minor villain's neck, his sufferings were soon over; but a horrible and lingering death was reserved for Fagan.
How was me an' Fagan t' know their skins would soak in wather like a pillow case? Small blame to us, Dugan." The big mayor took his head between his hands and stared moodily at the floor. "Go awn away!" he said after a while. "Ye have done for me an' th' byes, Toole. Ye have soaked us out of office, wan an' all of us. I want t' be alone. It is all over with us. Go awn away."
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