A proper agent was appointed, who saw Ormond’s accounts settled and signed, so that no blame or suspicion could rest upon him.
“There seems no probability, Mr. Ormond,” said Dr. Cambray, “of your commission being immediately purchased. Your guardian, Sir Ulick O’Shane, will be detained some time longer, I understand, in Dublin. You are in a desolate situation here—you have now done all that you ought to do—leave these Black Islands, and come to Vicar’s Dale: you will find there a cheerful family, and means of spending your time more agreeably, perhaps more profitably, than you can have here. I am sensible that no new friends can supply to you the place of him you have lost; but you will find pleasure in the perception, that you have, by your own merit, attached to you one friend in me, who will do all in his power to soothe and serve you.—Will you trust yourself to me?” added he, smiling, “You have already found that I do not flatter. Will you come to us?—The sooner the better—to-morrow, if you can.”
It scarcely need be said, that this invitation was most cordially accepted. Next day Ormond was to leave the Black Islands. Sheelah was in despair when she found he was going: the child hung upon him so that he could hardly get out of the house, till Moriarty promised to return for the boy, and carry him over in the boat often, to see Mr. Ormond. Moriarty would not stay in the islands himself, he said, after Harry went: he let the cabin and little tenement which O’Shane had given him, and the rent was to be paid him by the agent. Ormond went, for the last time, that morning, to Ormond’s Vale, to settle his own affairs there: he and Moriarty took an unusual path across this part of the island to the waterside, that they might avoid that which they had followed the last time they were out, on the day of Corny’s death. They went, therefore, across a lone tract of heath-bog, where, for a considerable time, they saw no living being.
On this bog, of which Cornelius O’Shane had given Moriarty a share, the grateful poor fellow had, the year before, amused himself with cutting in large letters of about a yard long the words
“LONG LIVE KING CORNY.”
He had sowed the letters with broom-seed in the spring, and had since forgotten ever to look at them; but they were now green, and struck the eye.
“Think then of this being all the trace that’s left of him on the face of the earth!” said Moriarty. “I’m glad that I did even that same.”
After crossing this lone bog, when they came to the waterside, they found a great crowd of people, seemingly all the inhabitants of the islands, assembled there, waiting to take leave of Master Harry; and each of them was cheered by a kind word and a look, before they would let him step into the boat.
“Ay, go to the continent,” said Sheelah, “ay, go to fifty continents, and in all Ireland you’ll not find hearts warmer to you than those of the Black Islands, that knows you best from a child, Master Harry dear.”