CHAPTER XXIV.
BARRINGTON BRIDGE.
As we four stood facing each other on the poop of The Grey Wolf, there was the sound of a door opened and closed, and then the pit-pat of steps on the deck, and well did I know who it was.
“Grace O’Malley!” cried I joyously, turning towards her.
“Grace O’Malley!” said Richard Burke, and could not say more for very gladness.
My mistress smiled upon us, as she gave one hand to the MacWilliam and the other to me; but as I gazed upon her I saw that those great eyes of hers were deep-shadowed with sadness. And well could I understand how the failure and defeat of her most cherished hopes, brought about by the perfidy of Desmond, and acquiesced in by Fitzmaurice, preyed upon her mind and filled her with gloom. What she now said to me showed how her thoughts ran.
“So you are become a Queen’s man, Ruari!”
“I am your servant, Grace O’Malley,” said I. “What care I whose man I am, so long as I am yours! If you say be a Queen’s man, then Queen’s man am I.”
“And you, Richard Burke?” she asked.
“You well know what I would say!” answered he.