by Sara Seale
“What have you been doing up there? Praying for the same old miracle, you stubborn creature?”
“No,” she said, her cheek warm against his. “I’ve swapped miracles. I made a deal with the saint and exchanged wishes.”
He held her a little away from him and looked searchingly into her eyes.
“What exactly does that mean?” he asked.
“It means,” she said, “that you’ve got me—all of me. I’m selling Dun Rury.”
He did not speak for a moment, then he pulled her close into his arms.
“Oh, darling, thank heavens you’re free at last,” he said. “Are you sure, Sarah? Are you sure this is the way you want it?”
“Quite sure,” she said. “Besides, it’s too late to change my mind. I telephoned Uncle B. from Casey’s and it will be all round the neighborhood by now.”
“You discovered the delusion for yourself?”
She looked up at his face and wondered why she had ever thought it cold.
“Yes, I discovered it.”
“That’s what I wanted you to do. Now you’ll understand why I wouldn’t advise you. It would have been so easy to talk you round but I knew unless you discovered the truth for yourself you would never be wholly free.”
“Yes, Adrian, you were quite right, of course, though at the time I did think you were an awful flinty one.”
“And you may remember that I once told you that one of these days I would come out of the hollow hills and eat you up if you weren’t careful. Flinty One, indeed!”
He kissed her with lingering tenderness, and she said wonderingly:
“So much happiness for me ... so much unexpected happiness ... You said once that we both had the same battle to fight—with ourselves, I suppose you meant. We’ve both turned our backs on the past, haven’t we, Adrian?”
“And isn’t the future going to be very much better?”
“Yes, the future will be real. But it still seems very odd to me that you should have preferred me to Kathy. You’re the first man who ever has.”
“Well, I certainly won’t be the last, you deluded creature, but don’t let it go to your head for you’ll find you’ll have an extremely possessive husband.” He laughed. “Now, can you bear to climb up as far as the well again? I have a small miracle of my own that needs sorting out.”
They reached the well and sat down on the rim of the basin, the sun warm on their backs, and Sarah said:
“Is it usual, do you suppose, for the landlady to marry the lodger?”
“It’s every proper landlady’s ambition,” he told her promptly. “So you see, the countryside will say you’ve caught me.”
She made a face at him.
“Willie-the-Post will be busy with news,” she giggled. “Dun Rury up for sale and two weddings in the family. I wonder who the poor mug is who’s willing to pay fourteen thousand for a house that’s dropping to bits.”
Adrian cleared his throat.
“He’s sitting beside you,” he said.
She stared at him.
“You mean you—oh, Adrian, you’re joking!”
He shook his head, enjoying her bewilderment.
“I never joke about money, as you should have discovered by now. Your lawyers will get my cheque tomorrow. The Dublin agents have instructions to act as soon as they hear from them.”
“But—but I don’t understand,” she stammered. “It was you who were forcing me to choose between you and the house. Why didn’t you tell us that it was you who was making the offer?”
“Because I wanted you to make your decision, uninfluenced by anything except what you thought was right. Because I wanted the break to be complete in your own mind before you knew you wouldn’t have to lose the place after all. It was my own private victory.”
“Over me?”
“No, not over you, my darling, but over Dun Rury and that other poor ghost that held you bound.”
“Then we are going to live here?”
“In between lecture tours and other things, and when we’ve set the place to rights.”
“But Adrian—” Suddenly ‘the enormity of the thing he was doing struck her. “All that money! Why, when you knew what the place was worth, did you make such an absurd offer?”
He rubbed his chin and looked a little guilty.
“Well, I’m afraid that was principally bait,” he answered. “I knew if I made my offer large enough, old Kavanagh would in duty bound have to bring pressure to bear.”
“Uncle B. didn’t know?”
“No one knew.”
“But, darling Adrian, I can’t let you—we must readjust the price or something. It’s sheer robbery. I won’t have it!” She looked as if she was going to cry and he leaned across and kissed her.
“Don’t look so shocked, sweetheart, you can use the money as Kavanagh advised and have a nice little income independent of your husband.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I don’t know what to say to you ... I don’t know how to thank you ...” she said, and he saw the humility in her face and the passionate gratitude.
“Never mind the thanks,” he said, trying to speak lightly. “It was quite a selfish gesture, really. I couldn’t bear you to lose what you’d fought for so long and gallantly. If St. Patrick wouldn’t do his stuff, I thought, then it was up to me. After all, we’ve got to have a house sometime, and you shall have this one for a wedding present.”
“No,” she said, and brushed away the tears. “Dun Rury is yours now, and that makes everything quite different. Like Nonie said, the man I’d choose would have a mind of his own and want a roof of his own, too. I will have you and Dun Rury will have a master. Let’s go home and tell them.”
They stood for a moment looking down into the well, and the sweet aromatic scent of the crushed hog-myrtle beneath their feet rose headily in the spring sunshine.
“I think St. Patrick has done me proud,” said Sarah softly, and stooping she crossed the water with her finger and made a wish.