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Updated: June 22, 2025
How lonely he must be up here all day! Perhaps he talked to his goats. He looked as if he might. One would get to have queer thoughts up here, get to know the rocks, and clouds, and beasts, and what they all meant. The goatherd uttered a peculiar whistle, and something, Lennan could not tell exactly what, happened among the goats a sort of "Here, Sir!" seemed to come from them.
Did he dare ask HER? Then he saw the young violinist go up, saw her rise and take his arm and vanish into the dancing-room; and leaning his forehead against a window-pane, with a sick, beaten feeling, he stayed, looking out into the moonlight, seeing nothing. He heard his name spoken; his tutor was standing beside him. "You and I, Lennan, must console each other. Dancing's for the young, eh?"
Through his head went a medley of sayings to soothe children that are hurt; but he felt unsteady, unlike himself. And suddenly she knelt, and put her hot forehead against his lips. It was as if she had really been a little child, wanting the place kissed to make it well. After that strange outburst, Lennan considered long whether he should speak to Oliver.
From behind those hands he uttered a sound, not quite like a human noise, turned sharply, and went out. She dropped back into the chair before her mirror, overcome by the most singular feeling she had ever known; as if she had lost everything, even her love for Lennan, and her longing for his love. What was it all worth, what was anything worth in a world like this?
The Black Lion cromlech in Cavan is encircled with a like ring of boulders, and another cromlech not far off rivals some of the largest in the immense size of its crowning block. Three cromlechs in the same limestone plain add something to the mystery that overhangs all the rest. The first, at Lennan in Monaghan, is marked with a curious cryptic design, suggesting a clue, yet yielding none.
"Stormer, I fancy, is quite an expert!" and turning to the lady whom the young 'Grundys' addressed as 'Madre' he added: "To me the great charm of mountain-climbing was always the freedom from people the remoteness." The mother of the young 'Grundys, looking at Lennan with her half-closed eyes, answered: "That, to me, would be the disadvantage; I always like to be mixing with my own kind."
And, as they made their way out to the hall, Lennan felt a hot little finger crooked into his own, as if she simply must have something to squeeze. He really did not know what to do with it. She seemed to feel this half-heartedness, soon letting it go. All the way home in the cab she was silent.
And once more, without knowing what he answered, Lennan murmured: "No, no! It'll be all right, dear it'll all come right. It must and shall." Again her fingers twined amongst his, like a child's. She seemed to have a wonderful knowledge of the exact thing to say and do to keep him helpless. And she went on: "I didn't try to love you it isn't wrong to love it wouldn't hurt her.
She knew that she had betrayed herself, made plain to Mark Lennan what she had never until now admitted to herself.
Was Lennan disappointed? Not so relieved, rather. But his ache was there all the time, feeding on its secrecy and loneliness, unmentionable feeling that it was. Why had he not realized long ago that youth was over, passion done with, autumn upon him? How never grasped the fact that 'Time steals away'? And, as before, the only refuge was in work.
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