Thank God, I say, for the great hearts of women!
I tried to acquit myself also in the course of the entertainment to the best of my ability, but for the most part, being no skilled performer in the matter of corantos and other dances, was perforce compelled to spend much of the time leaning against the wall. Once, as the Governor was passing me by, he stopped and spoke.
“Sir,” said he, “I have to render you my grateful acknowledgments for the handsome gift you have sent me this day.”
“Sir Nicholas,” replied I, “the gift was sent you by command of my mistress.”
The cruel, fierce eyes twinkled, and too late I perceived that my thoughtless words were making him suspect that some communication had passed between Grace O’Malley and myself in spite of his efforts and those of Sabina Lynch to prevent it. Thinking to undo the effect of my heedless speech, I made speed to continue.
“I thought,” said I, “that had my mistress been on her galley she would not have come to this revel in your honour with empty hands.”
“’Tis well spoken, by St. George!” said he. “Yet methinks there be few in Ireland that can afford to be so generous.”
The Governor’s brow relaxed, then clouded over again, for, on reflecting on my speech, he saw there was that in it which suggested I was not unaware that my mistress had been debarred from going down to her ships.
“You must reap rich harvests,” continued he, after a brief hesitation, “on the coast of Clew Bay, yet am I informed that nothing grows there but rocks.”
Howbeit the strains of music, rising and falling like a summer sea, were borne upon the air, and Sir Nicholas moved off to his own place. But his manner made me anxious that what we had planned might not long be postponed.