Then he told me how he had always intended that I should have his portion of the Desmond inheritance, together with certain jewels and plate which he had hidden in a secret place in the garden at Youghall; but he had been obliged by sore necessity to give six thousand acres to the Lord Boyle, who was now Earl of Cork. Another six thousand the Lord Boyle was to hold in trust for me. “The deeds are safe,” he said, “and he is bound fast. If he will not disgorge, you must even make him.”
“Alas, to what end?” I asked, “seeing that by my name I am an outlawed man.”
“You might be the King’s Fitzmaurice,” he said, hesitatingly.
“My dear lord,” I made answer, “tomorrow morn I am done with earthly hopes. Am I one to go to court, or to present myself to my people, if people I yet possess?”
“Why, Wat,” he said gently, “I think others might love that seamed face of yours since I do so greatly. What will you do? Will you comfort my lady?”
“If she needs me,” I made answer.
“I think she will go to her own folk,” he said.
“Then I shall be free to do what I will.”
“And that, Wat?”
“Seek out a hermitage far from the world.”