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That he meant to go alone, that no one, not even John Fairfield, knew of his coming, was not the least of his satisfactions, for the sight of the place of his forefathers, so long neglected, was becoming suddenly a sacred thing to him.
Bessie Fairfax stood to admire its glowing intricacy, and with a remarkable effort of candor exclaimed, "I think this is as pretty as anything in the Forest as pretty as Fairfield or the manor-house at Brook;" which amused her grandfather, for the south front of the old mansion-house of Abbotsmead was one of the most grandly picturesque specimens of domestic architecture to be found in the kingdom.
Mrs. Carnegie from the dining-room window witnessed the colloquy between the rector and her husband, and came out into the porch to receive her dear Bessie. "They will not expect you at Fairfield until they see you; so come in, love," said she, and Bessie gladly obeyed. The doctor's house was all the quieter for the absence of the elder boys at Hampton.
What! in broad daylight! Nonsense!" Here the parson made a spring forward, and, catching the arm of the person in question, who himself had stopped, and was gazing intently on the pair, exclaimed, "Sir, pardon me; but is not your name Fairfield? Ah, it is Leonard, it is my dear, dear boy! What joy! So altered, so improved, but still the same honest face.
Fairfield, with an approving glance at his pretty daughter; "and whenever you are in Vernondale, Mr. Harper, I hope you will come to see us." "I shall be very glad to," answered the young man, "and I hope to run out there soon." "Come out when we have our play," said Patty; "it's going to be beautiful." "What play is that?" "We don't know yet, we haven't decided on it."
"He went to the mines, and he got a sunstroke there and died," said old Mrs. Fairfield. Kezia blinked and considered the picture again... a little man fallen over like a tin soldier by the side of a big black hole. "Does it make you sad to think about him, grandma?" She hated her grandma to be sad. It was the old woman's turn to consider. Did it make her sad? To look back, back.
George Fairfield went off as happy as if he had been suddenly appointed Port Admiral. He felt not the ground he walked on, so light was his heart and also his tread as he stepped home with his eyes fixed on the stars, but his mind picturing that happy scene which had been all too short.
Fairfield, was an author and a poet; if so, he was unknown to fame, for no bookseller in the town had ever even heard of Mr. Fairfield's works. Then it was replied Mr. Fairfield had written under another name. What would that prove? Either that he was ashamed of his name, or that the works did him no credit. A man should never be afraid to put his name to what be wrote. But grant that Mr.
Hitherto, as I have said, the talents of Leonard Fairfield had been more turned to things positive than to the ideal, to science and investigation of fact than to poetry, and that airier truth in which poetry has its element.
Before the crown was ready to proceed with their trial, the third editor of the paper, Charles J. Kickham, was added to their company, having been arrested with James Stephens, Edward Duffy, and Hugh Brophy, on the 11th November, at Fairfield House, near Dublin.
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