ontesting in breathless jigs and reels,
displaying amazing agility and a sort of barbaric frenzy, while the men
yelled encouragement and applause, the pannikins circulated, and the
smoke gathered in a cloud along the ridge-pole. Sitting above the crowd
in a gay gown, with a splash of artificial red roses in her mass of black
hair, flushed with animation, her eyes beaded with fire, Aurora was a
striking queen of the revels, and Done exulted over her, and called her
Joy. It was the new name he had given her, Aurora sounding too formidable
for a lover's lips.

One such night Aurora played them 'The Wearing of the Green,' breaking in
upon a moment of exuberant merriment with the quaint melancholy of the
music. She wrung from the strings a pathetic appeal, and played the crowd
into a sudden reverent silence. They were rebel hearts there to a man,
and many exiles from Erin were in the company. The simple tune went right
home to them all. The men sat still, gazing into their pannikins, and big
bearded diggers had a chastened pensiveness that might have been comic
had there been any there to laugh at them. Just as suddenly the girl
swung into a rollicking dance-step, abandoning her tender mood with a
burst of happy laughter; but Tim Carrol, a young new chum; fresh from
'the most distressful country,' sprang to the counter beside her, and,
clasping Aurora and her fiddle in a generous hug, kissed the girl on the
cheek.

'Shtop!' he cried. 'Niver another word will ye play till the hold iv
that's gone from us!'

Done, who was standing near, saw the action, saw Aurora laughing in the
man's arms, and experienced a revulsion of feeling that turned him giddy,
and blurred the lights and the figures about him. He sprang at Carrol
savagely. It seemed to him that what followed occurred in darkness. A few
blows, a scuffle, and then he was torn away. The next moment he found
himself in Kyley's hands, and Aurora before him, her eyes flashing anger,
her white teeth bared, her hands clenched--exactly the termagant she had
appeared on the night she confronted Quigley in her wrath; but to-night
her fury was directed against him.

'How dare you interfere?' she said. 'How dare you meddle with my
affairs?' She struck herself upon the breast. She blazed with passion.

'He kissed you!' said Jim. 'I couldn't stand that!'

'And what of me? If I do not object, what then?'

'Aurora!'

'Am I my own mistress? Are my inclinations to count for someth