Peg O' My Heart Part 82

"You surely are not returning to America now?" said Hawkes, in surprise.

"Why, of course, I'm goin' to me father now. Where else would I go?"

Hawkes hastened to explain:

"If you return to America to your father, you will violate one of the most important clauses in the will."

"If I go back to me father?"

"Or if he visits you--until you are twenty-one," added Jerry.

"Is that so?" And the blood rushed up to Peg's temples. "Well, then, that settles it. No man is goin' to dictate to me about me father. No dead man--nor no livin' one nayther."

"It will make you a rich young lady in three years, remember. You will be secure from any possibility of poverty."

"I don't care. I wouldn't stay over here for three years with" she caught Mrs. Chichester's eyes fastened on her and she checked herself.

"I wouldn't stay away from me father for three years for all the money in the wurrld," she concluded, with marked finality.

"Very well," agreed Jerry. Then he spoke to the others: "Now, may I have a few moments alone with my ward?"

The family expressed surprise.

Hawkes suggested a feeling of strong displeasure.

"I shall wait to escort you down to the boat, Miss O'Connell."

Bowing to every one, the man of law left the room.

Peg stared at Jerry incredulously.

"WARD? Is that ME?"

"Yes, Peg. I am your legal guardian--appointed by Mr. Kingsnorth!"

"You're the director of a bank, the executor of an estate, an' now ye're me guardian. What do ye do with yer spare time?"

Jerry smiled and appealed to the others:

"Just a few seconds--alone."

Mrs. Chichester went to Peg and said coldly "Good-bye, Margaret. It is unlikely we'll meet again. I hope you have a safe and pleasant journey."

"I thank ye, Aunt Monica." Poor Peg longed for at least one little sign of affection from her aunt. She leaned forward to kiss her. The old lady either did not see the advance or did not reciprocate what it implied. She went on upstairs out of sight.

Mingled with her feeling of relief that she would never again be slighted and belittled by Mrs. Chichester, she was hurt to the heart by the att.i.tude of cold indifference with which her aunt treated her.

She was indeed overjoyed to think now it was the last she would ever see of the old lady.

Alaric held out his hand frankly:

"Jolly decent of ye to offer to stay here--just to keep us goin'--awfully decent. You are certainly a little wonder. I'll miss you terribly--really I will."

Peg whispered:

"Did ye know about that five thousand pounds when I'm twenty-one?"

"'Course I did. That was why I proposed. To save the roof." Alaric was nothing if not honest.

"Ye'd have sacrificed yeself by marryin' ME?" quizzed Peg.

"Like a shot."

"There's somethin' of the hero about you, Alaric!"

"Oh, I mustn't boast," he replied modestly. "It's all in the family."

"Well, I'm glad ye didn't have to do it," Peg remarked positively.

"So am I. Jolly good of you to say 'No.' All the luck in the world to you. Drop me a line or a picture-card from New York. Look you up on my way to Canada--if I ever really go. 'Bye!" The young man walked over to the door calling over his shoulder to Jerry: "See ye lurchin' about somewhere, old dear!" and he too went out of Peg's life.

She looked at Ethel and half entreated, half commanded Jerry:

"Plaze look out of the window for a minnit. I want to spake to me cousin." Jerry sauntered over to the window and stood looking at the gathering storm.

"Is that all over?" whispered Peg.

"Yes," replied Ethel, in a low tone.

"Ye'll never see him again?"

"Never. I'll write him that. What must you think of me?"

"I thought of you all last night," said Peg eagerly. "Ye seem like some one who's been lookin' for happiness in the dark with yer eyes shut.

Open them wide, dear, and look at the beautiful things in the daylight and then you'll be happy."

Ethel shook her head sadly:

"I feel to-day that I'll never know happiness again."

"Sure, I've felt like that many a time since I've been here. Ye know three meals a day, a soft bed to slape in an' everythin' ye want besides, makes ye mighty discontented. If ye'd go down among the poor once in a while an' see what they have to live on, an' thry and help them, ye might find comfort and peace in doin' it."

Ethel put both of her hands affectionately on Peg's shoulders.

"Last night you saved me from myself--and then; you shielded me from my family."

"Faith I'd do THAT for any poor girl, much less me own cousin."

"Don't think too hardly of me, Margaret. Please!" she entreated.