Kate smiled at the speaker, not all ungrateful for such rude chivalry, and went on—“I wanted to hear if you have any news from the town—was there any stir among the troops, or anything extraordinary going forward there?”
Each looked at the other as if unwilling to take the reply upon himself, when at last an old man, with a head as white as snow, answered—
“Yes, my lady, the soldiers is all under arms since nine o'clock, then came news that the French was in the Bay, and the army was sent for to Cork.”
“No, 'tis Limerick I heerd say,” cried another.
“Limerick indeed! sorra bit, 'tis from Dublin they're comin wid cannons; but it's no use, for the French is sailed off again as quick as they come.”
“The French fleet gone!—left the Bay—surely you must mistake,” said Kate, eagerly.
“Faix, I won't be sure, my lady; but here's Tom McCarthy seen them going away, a little after twelve o'clock.”
The man thus appealed to, seemed in nowise satisfied with the allusions to him, and threw a quick distrustful look around, as though far from feeling content with the party before whom he should explain, a feeling that increased considerably as every eye was now turned towards him.
Kate, with a ready tact that never failed her, saw his difficulty, and approaching close to where he stood, said, in a voice only audible by himself——
“Tell me what you saw in the Bay, do not have any fear of me.”