Perchance it was that my spirits had been affected by the sinking of this fine ship, even though I myself had been the cause of the same—the loss of a vessel, I cannot help saying, being a thing more to be deplored than the deaths of many human beings; or it may have been that my mind, now the necessity for prompt and decisive action had passed, became, as it were, relaxed and unstrung; but, as The Cross of Blood threaded her way through the maze of the islands towards Carrickahooley, I could think of nothing save of how I stood in the debt of de Vilela.
In vain I strove to comfort myself by recalling the successes and the victories that had been achieved by and in the name of my mistress, Grace O’Malley, and by telling myself that she had won for herself and us an imperishable renown. Not thus could I silence the voice of my heart, which cried out that all these were but as barrenness and as nothingness so long as Eva O’Malley was not for me. For there was the pain, there the grief and the sadness.
Against myself did I consider myself called upon to fight. I was as deep in the Spaniard’s debt as a man could be, and yet I could not bring myself to resign all hopes of my dear, even to de Vilela, without the bitterest struggles.
Which of us twain possessed the maid’s love? Was it de Vilela, or was it I? Did she love either of us?—that was the all-important question. For myself, my love had grown with my growth, was, I felt, growing still, and would keep on growing as long as I lived.
De Vilela, however, was a stranger, blown in upon us, as it were, by the chance winds of heaven. My claim was perhaps the better claim, but a maid’s heart acknowledges no real claim but the claim of her love, and if her heart’s love was de Vilela’s, then was my claim void and empty indeed.
Therefore, let the maid decide. My thoughts had worked round to this point, when I remembered once more what Grace O’Malley had said about the Don and Eva. What if Eva loved me after all? Again, Let the maid decide, said I.
Yet, somehow, this did not altogether satisfy me. Then it occurred to me that I might pay a part of my debt to de Vilela in the following way.
He could scarcely tarry much longer with us at the castle, as he must soon depart to endeavour to carry out the objects of the secret mission with which he had been entrusted by his master, the King of Spain. The way for him would be clear and open, for I had no doubt that Sir Nicholas would not now be able to continue the siege, and that we would be left in peace and quiet till the spring of the next year, when the war would most probably be renewed against us with larger forces, and with greater determination, both by land and sea. But all that lay in the womb of the future.
As for Don Francisco, I thought it likely that he would try to make the most of the time that remained to him before setting out for the Earl of Desmond’s, that he would ask for Eva’s hand from Grace O’Malley, and that thus the matter would be determined. What I set myself to do was, so long as he remained at Carrickahooley, to keep out of Eva’s presence, and in a manner, as it were, to leave the field to de Vilela.
If the maid loved him, I was out of court; if she loved me, she would tell her foster-sister that she could not accept the offer of the Spaniard; if she cared for neither of us, or wavered between us, then I was resolved to forego whatever advantage I possessed over de Vilela until he had received his answer and had taken his departure.