een gravel
path.

"Lizzie is out," Lady O'Gara said, glancing at the door hasped and
padlocked. "We shall have to come another time."

CHAPTER XXII

A SUDDEN BLOW

There was always a good deal of interest for Lady O'Gara in the affairs
of Castle Talbot. She went out after her solitary lunch to look for
Patsy Kenny. She wanted to talk to him about the turf and wood to be
given away to the poor people for Christmas. Little by little Patsy
had slid from being stud-groom into being general overlooker of the
business of the place.

Having found him she went with him into the stables where the light was
just failing, going from one to the other of the horses, talking to
them, fondling them, discussing them with Patsy in the knowledgable way
of a person accustomed to horses and loving them all her days.

Suddenly she caught sight of Black Prince, wrapped up in a horse-cloth,
hanging his long intelligent nose over his stall and looking at her
wistfully.

"Why," she said, "I thought Sir Shawn was riding the Prince!" She put
out her hand to fondle the delicate nose and Black Prince whinnied.

"No, m'lady. The Prince was coughin' this mornin': and Tartar was a
bit lame. You might notice I was late comin' round. I didn't want the
master to ride Mustapha. Not but what he's come on finely and the
master has a beautiful pair of hands. You'll remember Vixen that broke
her back at the double ditch at Punchestown, how she was a lamb with
the master though a greater divil than Mustapha to the rest of the
world?"

She knew that way Patsy had of talking a lot about a subject when he
was really keeping something essential back. It was quite true that
Mustapha had been coming to his senses of late--and Shawn had a
beautiful pair of hands, gentle yet as strong as steel. She had
thought Patsy's anxiety about Mustapha's being ridden by any one but
himself unnecessary, perhaps even with an unconscious spice of vanity
underlying it. Patsy had conquered Mustapha. Perhaps he would not be
altogether pleased that the horse should be amenable to some one else,
yet Mustapha had taken a lump of sugar from her hand, only yesterday,
as daintily as her own Chloe, his muzzle moving over her hands
afterwards with silken softness.

"I hope Mustapha will repay all the time and care you have spent on
him, Patsy," she said, and would not acknowledge that her heart had
turned cold for a second.

She hoped Shawn would be home ear