"Sorrow a foot, Sir Herbert. Nor no one ain't heard on him, nor seen him. And I will say this on him—"
"Don't say anything against him, Richard."
"No, surely not, seeing he is yer honour's far-away cousin, Sir Herbert. But what I war going to say warn't agin Mr. Owen at all, at all. For they do say that cart-ropes wouldn't have dragged him to Castle Richmond; and that only yer honour has come back to yer own,—and why not?—there wouldn't have been any masther in Castle Richmond at all, at all. That's what they do say."
"There's no knowing how it will go yet, Richard."
"'Deed, an' I know how it 'll go very well, Sir Herbert, and so does Mr. Somers, God bless him! 'Twas only this morning he tould me. An', faix, it's he has the right to be glad."
"He is a very old friend."
"So is we all ould frinds, an' we're all glad—out of our skins wid gladness, Sir Herbert. 'Deed an' I thought the eend of the warld had come when I heerd it, for my head went round and round and round as I stood in the stable, and only for the fork I had a hould of, I'd have been down among the crathur's legs."
And then it struck Herbert that as they were going on he heard the footsteps of some one running after the car, always at an equal distance behind them. "Who's that running, Richard?"
"Sure an' that's just Larry Carson, yer honour's own boy, that minds yer honour's own nag, Sir Herbert. But, faix, I suppose ye'll be having a dozen of 'em now."
"Stop and take him up; you've room there."