This was all bewildering to me; I could hear it all—and a sweeter voice I never heard—but yet I felt like a blind man, for not a thing could I see, whilst each of the three others was seemingly as much at ease as in the daylight.
“This gentleman has been very kind to me, Norah. He has given me a seat on his car, and indeed he’s come out of his way to lave me here.”
“I am sure we’re all grateful to you, sir; but, father, where is your horse? Why are you on a car at all? Father, I hope you haven’t met with any accident—I have been so fearful for you all the day.” This was spoken in a fainter voice; had my eyes been of service, I was sure I would have seen her grow pale.
“Yes, my darlin’, I got a fall on the Curragh Hill, but I’m all right. Norah dear! Quick, quick! catch her, she’s faintin’!—my God! I can’t stir!”
I jumped off the car in the direction of the voice, but my arms sought the empty air. However, I heard Andy’s voice beside me:—
“All right! I have her. Hould up, Miss Norah; yer dada’s all right, don’t ye see him there, sittin’ on me car. All right, sir, she’s a brave girrul! she hasn’t fainted.”
“I am all right,” she murmured, faintly; “but, father, I hope you are not hurt?”
“Only a little, my darlin’, just enough for ye to nurse me a while; I daresay a few days will make me all right again. Thank ye, Andy; steady now, till I get down; I’m feelin’ a wee bit stiff.” Andy evidently helped him to the ground.
“Good night, Andy, and good night you too, sir, and thank you kindly for your goodness to me all this night. I hope I’ll see you again.” He took my hand in his uninjured one, and shook it warmly.
“Good night,” I said, and “good-bye: I am sure I hope we shall meet again.”