She was making a fortune; her career so far had been one unbroken triumph, and her heart beat exultantly as she rattled her shillings and half-crowns, and complacently surveyed her almost empty cart. Carrying her glance a little above it, she met point-blank the eyes of a gentleman on horseback, who was looking over the heads of her customers. He wore his hat tilted far over his brows, and was gazing at her with grave, concentrated scrutiny—the man was Gilbert Lisle. For a moment she stood as if turned to stone, then suddenly wheeling about and kneeling down, she pretended to tie her shoe-string, but her fingers trembled so ridiculously, that this was indeed a farce. She felt a sense of choking panic; nevertheless, she was called upon to exercise all her self-command, for an officious old crone, who presided at the next stall, came over and shouted to her, saying,—
"The gentleman on the horse is spaking to you, Alannah; see here!" displaying a sovereign that had been thrown among the cabbage-leaves. "He wants a flower."
"Tell him they are all gone," she replied, still fiddling with her shoe-string. However, it was impossible that she could carry on this pretence much longer—and when with beating heart she at last ventured to raise her head, he was nowhere to be seen. Was it a dream? no, for there lay the piece of gold.
"It's ould Redmond's heir," volunteered her neighbour, eyeing the money with greedy eyes. "He's a great traveller, he has been away round by India, where me son is. I've never known him notice the likes of you before, and I know him man and boy. What ails ye? ye seem to have got a turn—ye look so white and wake."
"What would ail me? nothing at all—I'm a bit tired standing so long, and I'll just sit down on this creel till I see me way to getting out of the throng."
"Well, you are easily bet up, I'll say that for you," muttered the other, moving back to her own stall. "One would think ye wor a lady!"
It was eleven o'clock, all Helen's stock was disposed of, but for the present she saw no prospect of making her way through the crowd, and was compelled to sit, and wait, and listen to the surrounding gabble, which she did half unconsciously, for her thoughts were centred in her last customer; from which subject two tall countrymen were the first to attract her attention. They were standing so close to her that she made a kind of third party in the conversation, which proved unexpectedly interesting.
"What are you doing here, Tim?" inquired one; "sure you have nothing to sell."
"An' it's at home I ought to be! with all me barley standing; but sure I'm drawn for the jury, and bad luck to it."
"Troth, and so am I! an' I'm due in there," jerking his thumb at the Courthouse, "at twelve o'clock."