But now the ladala were calling upon Lakla to come with them, to govern them.
"I don't want to, Larry darlin'," she told him. "I want to go out with you to Ireland. But for a time—I think the Three would have us remain and set that place in order."
The O'Keefe was bothered about something else than the government of Muria.
"If they've killed off all the priests, who's to marry us, heart of mine?" he worried. "None of those Siya and Siyana rites, no matter what," he added hastily.
"Marry!" cried the handmaiden incredulously. "Marry us? Why, Larry dear, we are married!"
The O'Keefe's astonishment was complete; his jaw dropped; collapse seemed imminent.
"We are?" he gasped. "When?" he stammered fatuously.
"Why, when the Mother drew us together before her; when she put her hands on our heads after we had made the promise! Didn't you understand that?" asked the handmaiden wonderingly.
He looked at her, into the purity of the clear golden eyes, into the purity of the soul that gazed out of them; all his own great love transfiguring his keen face.
"An' is that enough for you, mavourneen?" he whispered humbly.