"I am not likely to forget you", said Bridget grimly. "Wherever you are, you make trouble".
"Tut, tut, girls", put in Lord Killiekeggan. "Don’t quarrel. Don’t spoil your pretty faces with frowns".
Bridget knew she was not pretty but his words pleased her. She arched her neck and looked challengingly at Adeline. "Well", she said, "shall we go into the drawing-room?"
Adeline caught her grandfather by the arm.
"Don’t leave me alone with Bridget!" she implored. "I’m afraid of her".
"Behave yourself", he said, and gave her hand a little slap, but he allowed himself to be led into the drawing-room.
Corry was not loath to save his old port, of which quite enough had been already drunk. He was a little downcast at the prospect of the quarrel which he knew he would have later with his wife.
Philip was in a state of bland serenity. He seated himself in a comfortable chair and accepted a pinch of snuff from the jewelled box the old Marquis proffered him. Adeline spread out the glimmering flounces of her crinoline and eyed her grandfather beguilingly.
"What a sweet box!" she said.
Well, she was his loveliest granddaughter and she was going far away. He put the snuff-box into her hand.
"Take it", he said, "and when an Indian chief offers you the pipe of peace you can give him a pinch of snuff in exchange".
No one could have been more charming and self-forgetful than Adeline during the rest of the visit. But there was tension between her and Bridget. They were quite ready to part when the last morning came. The wagonette waited at the door for Adeline’s trunks, for she went nowhere without a quantity of luggage. She stood in the hall, tall and slender, in a dark-green riding-habit, her hair plaited neatly beneath the small hat from which a dark feather drooped against the creamy whiteness of her cheek. Her red lips were parted in a blandishing smile.
"Ah, what a beautiful visit I’ve had!" she cried, embracing Bridget. "Ah, thank you, dear cousin, for all you’ve done! When Philip and I are settled in our new home you and Corry must come and spend a year with us, for indeed ’twould take a year to repay you for all you’ve done for us!"
Bridget was shorter than Adeline. Her eyes could barely look over the top of Adeline’s shoulder as they embraced. Her eyes, protruding a little because of the fervent embrace she was receiving, stared at the panelling on which a vacant space by degrees claimed her attention. Her eyes widened still more as her brain took in the fact that the childish portrait of Adeline was missing from the wall. It seemed too bad to be true! With a cry that was almost a scream, Bridget struggled in that strong embrace. Adeline held her close. In fact, feeling the tempest that was surging through Bridget, Adeline held her closer.
"Let me go", screamed Bridget in a fury. "Let me go!"
The men stared at the two in consternation. With Bridget’s great crinoline vibrating about them, their bosoms pressed together, their arms clutching each other, they were a troubling sight.
"What in God’s name is the matter?" demanded Renny Court.
"He has given her the picture!"
"What picture?"
"The portrait of Adeline! Corry has given it her. It’s gone!"
Everyone now looked at the wall. Corrigan turned pale. "I have done no such thing", he declared. "If it’s gone, she took it".
Adeline was driven to release Bridget who now faced her in fierce accusation.
"You have taken it!" she said. "It is in one of your boxes. Peter!" she called out to a man-servant, "unload the boxes from the wagonette".
"Let them be", said Adeline. She turned calmly to her cousins. "I did take the picture", she said, "but I only took what was my own, so let’s have no more fuss about it".
Peter stood, holding a trunk in his arms, not knowing whether to put it down or put it up. His sandy side-whiskers bristled in excitement.
"Now, look here", said Philip, "I’m willing to buy the picture if Adeline wants it so badly".
"And I’m willing to sell", said Corrigan.
"But I am not!" cried his wife. "I demand to have those boxes unpacked and the picture back on the wall!" She ran down the steps and took one end of the trunk which Peter was still holding, and tugged at the strap that bound it.
Adeline flew after her. They struggled over the trunk. Adeline was the stronger but Bridget was in an abandon of rage. She stretched out her hand and taking hold of one of Adeline’s smooth plaits, pulled it loose.
"Now, now, don’t do that!" exclaimed Philip, in his turn running down the steps. "I won’t have it". Never in his life had he been involved in such a scene as this. He caught Bridget’s wrist and held it while with the other hand he tried to make Adeline let go of the trunk.
Renny Court looked on, laughing.
"Kindly restrain your wife", said Philip to Corrigan.
"Don’t you lay a finger on me, Corry Court!" cried Bridget. He moved warily between her and Adeline.
Philip spoke sternly to Adeline. "We’ll have no more of this. Tell me which box the picture is in".
With a trembling finger she pointed to the box which Peter held.
"Put it down", said Philip to the man. He did so. Philip opened it and there on the top lay the picture! He took it out and handed it to Corrigan. The child face looked out of the frame in innocent surprise. Corrigan looked from it to Adeline and back again. His expression was one of profound gloom.
Renny Court directed a piercing glance into the trunk.
"Did you ever see such extravagance!" he exclaimed. "Is it any wonder she left me bankrupt? Look at the gold toilet articles-the sable cloak! And there is my father-in-law’s snuff-box! By the Lord Harry, she’s got that too!"
"He gave it her", said Philip tersely. With a set face he put down the lid of the trunk and buckled the strap. He turned to Adeline who stood like a statue looking on, one hand grasping her riding-crop.
"Come", he said. "Make your good-byes. You did wrong to take the picture but I must say that I think Mrs. Court has treated you very badly".
"Good-bye, Corry", said Adeline, tears running out of her eyes, "and God comfort you in your marriage, for your wife is a vixen-if ever there was one!" With a graceful movement she turned to her horse. Philip lifted her to her saddle. Her father sprang to his. Embarrassed good-byes were exchanged. Then Adeline turned for a last look at Bridget.
"Good-bye, Biddy Court!" she called out. "And may you live to be sorry for the way you’ve used me! Bad luck to you, Biddy! May the north wind blow you south, and the east wind blow you west till you come at last to the place where you belong!" She gave a flourish of her crop and galloped off, one long auburn plait flying over her shoulder.
Old Peter, rattling behind with the luggage, exclaimed:
"Ah, ’twas a quare dirty trick to do to her, and she as innocent as she was the day the pictur was painted!"
That was not the last of their visits. They went to the house of Adeline’s married brother. They stayed with the old Marquis himself but nothing they saw or did weakened their desire for the New World. There was in them both an adventurous pioneer spirit that laughed at discouragement, that reached out toward a freer life.
The day came when all preparations were complete for their sailing westward.
Philip had taken passage on a sailing vessel because he believed it would be quicker and cleaner than the steamship. Adeline’s parents and little Timothy were to come to the port to see them off.
Patsy O’Flynn, the coachman, had made up his mind to accompany Adeline to Canada. He was unmarried. He had spent his life in one small spot. Now he was out for adventure. Also something chivalrous in him urged him to add another protector to her train, for he scarcely looked on her two young brothers as protectors. But he was convinced that they were going to an uncivilised country where wild animals and Indians prowled close to every settlement.