ter."

"Sha' n't they want you at Paris?" asked Harcourt, who felt a kind of
quiet vengeance in developing what he deemed the weak vanity of the
other.

"Yes," sighed he again; "but I can't be everywhere." And so saying, he
lounged away, while it would have taken a far more subtle listener than
Harcourt to say whether he was mystifying the other, or the dupe of his
own self-esteem.

CHAPTER XVIII. BILLY TRAYNOR AS ORATOR

Three weeks rolled over,--an interval not without its share of interest
for the inhabitants of the little village of Leenane, since on one
morning Mr. Craggs had made his appearance on his way to Clifden, and
after an absence of two days returned to the Castle. The subject for
popular discussion and surmise had not yet declined, when a boat was
seen to leave Glencore, heavily laden with trunks and travelling
gear; and as she neared the land, the "lord" was detected amongst the
passengers, looking very ill,--almost dying; he passed up the little
street of the village, scarcely noticing the uncovered heads which
saluted him respectfully. Indeed, he scarcely lifted up his eyes, and,
as the acute observers remarked, never once turned a glance towards the
opposite shore, where the Castle stood.

He had not reached the end of the village, when a chaise with four
horses arrived at the spot. No time was lost in arranging the trunks
and portmanteaus, and Lord Glencore sat moodily on a bank, listlessly
regarding what went forward. At length Craggs came up, and, touching his
cap in military fashion, announced all was ready.

Lord Glencore arose slowly, and looked languidly around him; his
features wore a mingled expression of weariness and anxiety, like one
not fully awakened from an oppressive dream. He turned his eyes on the
people, who at a respectful distance stood around, and in a voice of
peculiar melancholy said, "Good-bye."

"A good journey to you, my Lord, and safe back again to us," cried a
number together.

"Eh--what--what was that?" cried he, suddenly; and the tones were shrill
and discordant in which he spoke.

A warning gesture from Craggs imposed silence on the crowd, and not a
word was uttered.

"I thought they said something about coming back again," muttered
Glencore, gloomily.

"They were wishing you a good journey, my Lord," replied Craggs.

"Oh, that was it, was it?" And so saying, with bent-down head he walked
feebly forward and entered the carriage. Craggs was speedily o