Very cautiously he crept forward and peered through the window. There was a candle in its tall iron stand on the floor, and the peat fire burned brightly on the hearth. A row of brass candlesticks were on the mantel-board. Hannah Macaulay sat on a chair near the door knitting. The room, he saw, was neat and orderly as ever.
The lids of the pots and the metal dish-covers gleamed from the nails on which they hung round the walls. The pewter plates, bronze jugs, and upturned noggins stood in shining rows on the dresser shelves. Neal waited. Not a sound reached him from the house. He took courage and slipped through the open door.
“Is that you yoursel’, Master Neal?” said Hannah, quietly, “I ha’ your supper ready for ye. I was sitting up for you. You’re late the night.”
She rose from her seat and, without a sign of surprise or excitement, closed the door and bolted it.
“Hannah, how is it that you are expecting me? You can’t have known that I was coming. How did you know?”
Hannah took plates from the dresser and food from the cupboard while she answered him.
“Master Maurice’s groom, the lad they call James, rode in from Antrim the day afore yesterday with a note for Miss Una ower by. She tellt me that you’d be coming and that it was more nor like you’d travel by night. I’ve had your supper ready, and I’ve sat waiting for you these two nights, I knew rightly that it was here you’d come first.”
“Where is my father?”
“He’s gone, Master Neal. The sojers came and took him, but he bid me tell you not to be afeard or taking on about him. He was thinking they’d send him across the sea, maybe to Scotland, he said, but they wouldna hurt him. So eat your bit and take your sup, my bairn. You must be sore troubled with the hunger. How ever did ye thole?”
“I have your bed ready for you,” she said as Neal ate, “and it’s in it you ought to be by right. I’m thinking it’s more than yin night since ye hae lain atween the sheets, judging by the looks of ye.”