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I went and came now to Brosna as one who had a right. I would come in upon Terence Murphy scrubbing a floor or polishing silver or some such thing, and he would look up as my shadow fell on him. "Any news, Miss Bawn?" "None, Terence, not yet." "Ah, well; sure, it's on its way. There's nothing like being ready in time." Day after day now he lit the fires in Anthony's rooms.
A quiet south wind marshalled the pearly clouds before it as though it were a shepherd driving a flock to the fold. As I entered Brosna by the garden-way I noticed that Terence had run up the Irish flag on the flagstaff which he had placed on the little lawn outside Anthony's rooms, and I remembered that it was the anniversary of a battle in which my Anthony had covered himself with glory.
The only way I could hope for it to reach him was by leaving it at his old home, which I knew he loved despite its state of ruin or perhaps the more because of that and he was sure to return there some time. So I addressed it to Captain Cardew, Brosna; and then, because I could trust no one but myself to deliver it I stole out of the house.
The raindrops of last night jewelled them in the rays of the sun. Dido and I broke whole silver forests on our morning walk to Brosna. I remember that the blackbird was singing deliciously, yet less poignantly sweet than he should sing at dusk. There was a mysterious stir and flutter of spring in all the coppices.
The rains of our moist climate had wept upon it and there were long green streaks extending down the walls. I saw now that there was a sunken storey with a sort of area that ran all round the house, so that Brosna, except for its thatched summer-room, was a house of three storeys, not of two, as it appeared at first.
They lost him, and returned to the house, firing shots at whatever they could damage, and smashing everything breakable, from the windows upwards. Brosna will lose the sight of one eye, which is practically beaten out. His servants, named Larkin, have been compelled to leave by means of threatening letters.
I noticed that they always whispered when they mentioned the name of Cardew, on account of my grandfather, no doubt, for he would always have it that Irene Cardew had been the cause of the tragedy which had resulted in Jasper Tuite's death and Uncle Luke's exile, and he hated her and Brosna and all the Cardews on her account. "He shows no sign of it," my godmother answered.
I did not want to meet Terence; and I had an idea, having heard of the great extent of Brosna indeed, it was easy to judge of it from the aspect of the place outside that I might slip in somewhere and leave my letter without meeting with him. So, without going near the hall door, I passed through a little iron gate in the wall at one end of the house, which I found led to an overgrown garden.
Brosna is now what it was meant to be, a stately, beautiful, well-kept house. We are rich: the treasure made us all rich; and that is a strange thing enough in our country, where there is no money to spare among the gentle-folk. And talking of wealth reminds me of Richard Dawson.
A few days ago a small farmer named Benjamin Brosna, aged 55, agreed with the proper authorities to graze some cattle on the land in question pending the arrangement of the matter.
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