He arose and looked around him. Yes; but a few rods away he saw the two seated by a small fire, as comfortably as if on some pleasure excursion. The genial face of the Irishman was wreathed in smiles, as he blinked through the smoke at the girl upon the opposite side. The face of the latter was pale, and she wore a saddened, thoughtful expression, for it was hard for her to smile at the witticisms of her good-natured companion, when her terrible bereavement was so recent.
Hardly able to restrain his emotions, Waring approached the two. As he did so, the back of Virginia was turned toward him, while the Irishman faced him. The latter immediately caught sight of him, and signalling him to stop, said to Virginia:
"Did you ever hear, my leddy, that Pat Mulroony was a magician?"
She looked up as if she did not comprehend his question.
"A magician? What do you mean?" returned Virginia.
"A man who on account of his superior vartues is gifted with more than mortal powers. One who can do anything."
Thinking the words of the Irishman to be nothing more than some jest, intended to divert her attention from her grief, Virginia made no reply.
"Whisht now! ye doesn't belave me, I see. S'pose I should call up that young Waring that belongs to yees out of the ground, would you then belave it?"
"I am in no mood for such trifling," said she, with a reproving look. "I would prefer you not to disturb me."
"Whisht now, jist look."