"Given his consent!" repeated the old woman, flushing and paling; and then a great wonder seemed to overcome every other feeling. "You saw him in the cabin 'mongst the hills and you got his consent! But weren't you afeared, ma'am, to go there by yourself?"
"I was somewhat afraid at first," I admitted; "but I felt that for the child's sake it had to be done."
"And you'll take her away from me?" the old woman cried piteously. "How can you, ma'am?"
"Don't you see yourself how much the best thing it is for her?" I urged. "You are afraid of Niall's influence over her; she can not grow up as she is, roaming the hills, with no companions of her own age or rank."
She was silent a long time, and I thought she was praying.
"You are right, ma'am dear," she said tranquilly; "it is for the best, and it seems to be God's holy will. But when must it be?"
"We shall sail from here in August, I think," I answered. "And then I can place her in a convent near New York for the opening term of the school year. If she stays there even two or three years, it will make a great difference. And then she will come back to take her place at the castle, if it can be made habitable; or, at all events, in the neighborhood."
"But Miss Winifred's father is in the United States of America?" said the old woman, tremulously.
"Yes: he is in New York. I know him and have spoken to him."
The old woman's face flushed with a joyful, eager flush.