"You are quite right, my dear young lady—quite right, indeed, in resolving against putting yourself into the hands of anybody under Sir Henry's influence—perfectly right and wise. Have you no relatives in this country, none capable of protecting you, and willing to do so?"
"I have, indeed, one relative," rejoined she, but——"
"Who is it?" interrupted Audley.
"An uncle," replied Mary.
"His name, my dear—his name?" inquired the old gentleman, impatiently.
"His name is French—Oliver French," replied she, "but——"
"Never mind," interrupted Audley again, "where does he live?"
"He lives in an old place called Ardgillagh," rejoined she, "on the borders of the county of Limerick."
"Is it easily found out?—near the high road from Dublin?—near any town?—easily got at?" inquired he, with extra-ordinary volubility.
"I've heard my brother say," rejoined she, "that it is not far from the high road from Dublin; he was there himself. I believe the place is well known by the peasantry for many miles round; but——"