Richard Burke gazed from one to the other of us, too much astonished to speak. I looked at Eva, whose eyes were sad and weary, but the colour was in her cheeks and her lips trembled only a very little.
“Yes,” said she, “I can tell you; but let me begin at the beginning.”
“More wine?” said I, and she took a sip from the goblet I handed to her.
“I am tired,” said she, with a moan like that of a hurt child; “but you must know all, and that quickly. You remember the night in which Juan de Ricaldo reached Askeaton?” asked she of me.
“I left some hours later that very night,” I replied, “to meet the Spanish ships.”
“You remember also that two of the justices of Munster had come from Limerick with a letter from the President demanding that Grace O’Malley should be sent to him, so that he could cast her into prison?”
“I had not heard of that!” exclaimed Burke.
“Yes,” I said; “I well remember it.”
“Oh, how am I to tell it!” said Eva piteously, and I bled for her in all my veins. “But say on I must. Perchance,” continued she, speaking to me again, “you observed that Garrett Desmond was infatuated with her, and that she did not rebuke him as she might have done?”
“It was to keep stiff that weak back of his,” said I, “and to get him to declare boldly against the Queen.”