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One impudent woman followed us for quite a way to sell us her photograph, as the photograph of Eily O'Connor, murdered here by her lover many years ago murdered not at the gap but in the lake. There was a large party of us and these followers, horse, foot and artillery, I may say were a persistent nuisance all the way.
The boy was pulling angrily at her sleeve, and an altercation was going on. "Shure 'tis himself will be glad to see me, ye spalpeen! Shame on yez to insult a poor girl. Musha, is it Misther Hamilton within and ashamed to spake to his Eily!" One more moment, then within that room in which art, and beauty, and refinement were gathered in one harmonious whole, a figure stole shyly.
Count von Eily, hearing 'that a king and friend was born to him', had bonfires lighted, and a torchlight procession on the ice that same night, and early in the morning came the Archbishop of Gran to christen the child. The Queen wished her faithful Helen to be godmother, but she refused in favor of some lady whose family it was probably needful to propitiate.
The feeling with which he regarded her now was rather of resentment than indifference, and it had been with a secret creeping of the heart that he had witnessed what he thought was the successful progress of Kyrle Daly's attachment. It was under those circumstances that he formed his present hasty union with Eily. His love for her was deep, sincere, and tender.
Grey taught drawing and painting; her pupils were few, her terms low; it was a difficult matter to make both ends meet, but she managed it by careful contriving, and sometimes had enough to treat her waiting-maid to a morsel of something savoury cooked on her own little stove. It was May. Eily was standing at the window while Mrs. Murphy went forth on a bargain-hunting expedition.
They entered the neat little room at the top of the stairs. Mrs. Grey, walking to the table, never pausing to unfasten her bonnet-strings or to unbutton her gloves, opened the book and laid it on the table, exclaiming in triumph, "There you are to the life, Eily! See! it is the picture of the year, and is called 'The Queen of Connemara."
She clenched the gold in her hands, and then with a bitter, passionate cry threw it into the street, and watched while two street-urchins picked it up and ran off with their treasure-trove. "May I help you, my poor girl? Are you in trouble?" Bee Vandaleur spoke gently and softly; she had heard all that passed between the artist and his model. Eily looked up.
Fie, for shame! an ignorant country girl like you should be thankful for such a start in life as you are getting." "I'm not ignorant," Eily answered with spirit, "and it's yourself that knows it!"
And a wondrous power of heart and voice came over Terence then, For a secret in his harp-strings lay, to call to the hearts of men, That he could make magic of common songs, and none might understand The words he said nor the dreams they bred for he had them of Fairyland. Eily she was a colleen fair, the light of the harper's eyes, And he won by the aid of the Leprechaun his long-desired prize.
"Oh, Eily, jewil, don't say that! don't!" he pleaded, his blue eyes looking earnestly into hers. "Whin ye go, you will take all the sunshine out of me poor heart; it's to Ameriky I will go, for nothin' will be the same to me without you, mavourneen! Eily, Eily, will ye stay?" But Eily was firm. "Faith, thin, I will not, Dermot! I'm weary of my life here; I want to see London and the world.
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