“I have done what I promised you,” said Fitzgerald to Eva O’Malley. Then he turned towards me. “Ruari Macdonald,” said he, “my debts to you are also paid. Farewell, and God help and pity us all!”
“Dermot!” cried I.
But he was already past me, galloping fast and furiously, like one hotly pursued.
“He has gone,” said Eva, and there was a sob in her voice.
In an instant I had leaped from the saddle, and was by her side. Her form was bowed forward upon her horse’s neck, and her tears were falling heavily, as I placed my arm about her waist, and drew her towards me, heedless of those who were with us.
“Eva, darling,” I said. “What does all this mean?” Not that I cared to be told at that moment; it was enough that we were together. I pressed her to my heart, and kissed away her tears while she struggled with her emotions. I spoke many words of endearment, and after awhile she regained her calmness.
“Let us ride on,” she said at length.
“But whither are we going?” asked I.
“To the camp of Richard Burke,” she replied; “it is only three or four miles ahead of us—so Dermot Fitzgerald said. And he has shown himself our friend after all.”
“To Richard Burke?” cried I, more amazed, if that were possible, even than before.