“She had no intention of consenting to Desmond,” said Burke, and his voice was full of pride and joy.
“No,” said Eva, looking at him with kind eyes, notwithstanding the grief in which she was.
“Go on, go on,” urged I, half vexed with them both.
“I know not,” said Eva, “what was said or done when the morning came, but I have not even seen her since.” And her tears fell fast again, while Burke and I were smitten into a gloomy silence.
“Have you heard nothing of her?” asked I, at length.
“One of my women—she is here now—found out that Desmond had taken her to one of his castles nearer to Limerick than Askeaton is, with what object may be easily guessed.”
Burke started up madly.
“What is to be done? What is to be done?” cried he.
“A moment!” said I, and I turned to Eva. “There is more to tell, is there not?”
“Yes,” replied she. “After Grace O’Malley had been carried away I was given a certain liberty, for I was permitted to move about a part of the castle, although I was always watched. One day I chanced to see Dermot Fitzgerald, and though he tried to avoid me as soon as he perceived me, I ran up to him and caught him by the arm. I begged and entreated him by our old friendship to tell me what had become of our mistress, and what was going on.