Not a long after she was travelling the sands, and she heard the music again. There was himself sitting up on the rock as sound as a salmon at play.
“I doubt you’re no right thing,” says she.
“Maybe not,” he allows. “But I’ll rise your heart with a tune—if it was crying I had you the last time it’s laughing I’ll see you this day.”
With that he played the cleverest dancing tune on the harp, and he had the fisherman’s daughter in the best of humour.
After a while he says, “I’m thinking you have a poor way of living in your home, for it’s hard set to earn a bit and a sup that the fishermen are in this place.”
“We’re miserable, surely,” she answers.
“I’ll be making you a great advancement,” says he. “For I’d have you to know that there’s plenty of wealth in my power. Let you quit from your own friends and marry myself. It’s a beautiful castle I’ll build you, out on a rock in the ocean, and jewels and pearls for your portion to wear.”
“A lonesome life,” says she, “to be watching the wild birds fly over the waves, and maybe a ship passing by. Moreover you are no right thing, evenly if you have the appearance of a beautiful gentleman. It’s a poor man of these parts will join the world with myself.”
“Sure I’m an Earl’s son of the sea,” he allows.
But the grandeur didn’t tempt her at all.