“Who is he? What is he?”
“I never seen him before, Miss, but he comes from beyant there”—she motioned towards the main land of Ireland—“and says that you know him well.”
“Have you told my uncle of him?”
“No, Miss, for the man said I was to tell no living soul but yourself, and to tell you quick too, for he was in a hurry, and wanted to get away with the evening’s tide, and his boat was more than a mile off.”
“Molly Byan,” said the girl, calmly, almost sternly, “you heard the orders that my uncle gave. You heard him tell me that I was not to see, nor speak to, nor hold any intercourse with any of those belonging to my mother’s family. Is this man one of them?”
“No, Miss. ‘Tis what I asked him. ‘Tis the very first question I put to him. And he said, ‘I’m no more to them than you are, Mrs. Ryan,’ says he; ‘and what’s more,’ says he, ‘if it’s any comfort to you to know it, I don’t even come from this part of Ireland; so you may make yourself easy about that,’ says he. I was puttin’ more questions to him, and he stopped me, and said, ‘You’re just wasting precious time,’ says he, ‘and if she comes back and finds it too late’—‘she meant yourself Miss—’ she won’t forgive you in a hurry for what you’ve done, for I can’t come here again.’”
“You are sure and certain that he was not one of those I spoke of?”
“I know them all well, Miss—barrin’ the three that was transported—and he’s not any of them I ever saw before.”
“But he might exactly be one of those who was transported, and certainly if I knew that I’d not see him.”
“He swore to me he wasn’t, Miss; and, what’s more, he said that what he came about wasn’t his own business at all, but concerned you. That’s his whistle now—he gave, one awhile ago—and he said, ‘When I give three,’ says he, ‘I’m gone, for i’ll not lose the tide, whether she comes or not.’”