“Whin the threasure of Knockcalltecrore is found, thin ye may claim her if ye will, an’ I’ll freely let her go!” As he spoke, there came before my mind the strong idea that we were all in the power of the Hill— that it held us; however, as lightly as I could I spoke:—
“Then I would claim her now!”
“What do ye mane?”—this was said half anxiously, half fiercely.
“The treasure of Knockcalltecrore is here; you hold her in your arms!” He bent over her:—
“Aye! the threasure sure enough—the threasure ye would rob me of!” Then he turned to me, and said sternly, but not unkindly:—
“Go, now! I can’t bear more at prisent; and even me daughter may wish to be for a while alone wid me!” I bowed my head and turned to leave the room; but as I was going out, he called me back:—
“Shtay! Afther all, the young is only young. Ye seem to have done but little harm—if any.” He held out his hand; I grasped it closely, and from that instant it seemed that our hearts warmed to each other. Then I felt bolder, and stepping to Norah took her hand—she made no resistance—and pressed it to my lips, and went out silently. I had hardly left the door when Joyce came after me.
“Come agin in an hour,” he said, and went in and shut the door.
Then I wandered to the rocks and climbed down the rugged path into the Cliff Fields. I strode through the tall grass and the weeds, rank with the continuous rain, and gained the table rock. I climbed it, and sat where I first had met my love, after I had lost her; and, bending, I kissed the ground where her feet had rested. And then I prayed as fervent a prayer as the heart of a lover can yield, for every blessing on the future of my beloved; and made high resolves that whatsoever might befall, I would so devote myself that, if a man’s efforts could accomplish it, her feet should never fall on thorny places.
I sat there in a tumult of happiness. The air was full of hope, and love, and light; and I felt that in all the wild glory and fulness of nature the one unworthy object was myself.