The whistle was repeated.
Miles stooped down, kissed the trembling girl’s forehead, and, addressing me, hastily said, “Phil, tired as you must be, I know I can trust to you to see Mary safe home.”
“Why not do so yourself?” asked I.
“Because I am called, and must obey.”
“Are the boys out to-night?” inquired my father.
“They are, and will be till—”
“When?—where?” demanded my mother.
“No matter,” said O’Rourke, “you will know soon enough. Perhaps too soon.”
The whistle was heard for the third time. O’Rourke rushed from the cottage, exclaiming, “Heaven guard you all!”
After the lapse of a few minutes, I started with Mary for her father’s house. As I left her, looking very sad, at the door, I told her to be sure to see that O’Rourke was not too late to sail wid me.