Then one by one she recognized other humbler ornaments, priceless to her heart from the very smallness of their value, coming as she knew they did from the poverty of those who in giving them had given the best they had.
“This is old Brian’s,” they said, “who died by the pirate’s spear in trying to save us; and this is his mother’s; and this is from our own old nurse, the one precious heirloom of her house.”
“Yes,” replied Dewi; “everything precious your people possessed they insisted on my bringing, till I could carry no more. What were gold and silver to them, they said, when you, the jewels of the hearts of all, were lost?”
A pang shot through Ethne’s heart that they could for a moment have been interested in any one or anything else while these faithful hearts were thus mourning and wearying for them. Something of this she said to Baithene.
“Yet what could we have done?” she added; “how could we live anywhere for anytime without loving?”
“Surely you could not, darling,” he replied. “The Heavenly Father made you that way.”
After a time Damaris returned with Fabricius.
“What are all these treasures?” Fabricius asked; and Dewi answered through Baithene—
“These, my lord, are the ransoms sent by the Irish king and his people to the prince and princess, their son and daughter, that they may be restored to their home and their land.”
“I require no ransom,” Fabricius said. “I have always thought of these noble captives as free-born, and high-born as myself;” and going to a chest he drew out a parchment. “This is the deed of manumission,” he said, “setting free according to our law those who have been taken captive. It is merely a form. I only held it back until the moment seemed to have come when it would be safe for them to return to their country.”