e. He bred fat oxen and prize cart-horses, and made a
great figure at all the cattle-shows, and was happy. The Duchess, who
had never believed her paragon capable of wrong-doing, had been
infinitely shocked by Lady Mabel's desperate course; but it was not in
her nature to be angry with that idolised daughter. She very soon came
back to her original idea, that whatever Mabel Ashbourne did was right.
And then the marriage was so thoroughly happy; and the world gladly
forgives a scandal that ends so pleasantly.

So Lord and Lady Mallow go their way--honoured, beloved, very active in
good works--and the pleasant valleys around Mallow are dotted with red
brick school-houses, and the old stone hovels are giving place to model
cottages, and native industries receive all possible encouragement from
the owner of the soil; and, afar off, in the coming years, the glories
of Dublin Castle shine like the Pole Star that guides the wanderer on
his way.

In one thing only has Lady Mallow been false to the promise of her
girlhood. She has not achieved success as a poet. The Duchess wonders
vaguely at this, for though she had often found it difficult to keep
awake during the rehearsal of her daughter's verses, she had a fixed
belief in the excellence of those efforts of genius. The secret of Lady
Mallow's silence rests between her husband and herself; and it is just
possible that some too candid avowal of Lord Mallow's may be the reason
of her poetic sterility. It is one thing to call the lady of one's
choice a tenth muse before marriage, and another thing to foster a
self-delusion in one's wife which can hardly fail to become a
discordant element in domestic life. "If your genius had developed, and
you had won popularity as a poet, I should have lost a perfect wife,"
Lord Mallow told Mabel, when he wanted to put things pleasantly.
"Literature has lost a star; but I have gained the noblest and sweetest
companion Providence ever bestowed upon man." Lady Mallow has not
degenerated into feminine humdrum. She assists in the composition of
her husband's political pamphlets, which bristle with lines from
Euripides, and noble thoughts from the German poets. She writes a good
many of his letters, and is altogether his second self.

While the Irishman and his wife pursue their distinguished career,
Rorie and Vixen live the life they love, in the Forest where they were
born, dispensing happiness within a narrow circle, but dearly loved
wheresoe