‘Desmond himself,’ said the lawyer. ‘Peebles cried out to him, and he comes into the churchyard and talks with Moya.’ ‘For God’s sake go on,’ cried Conseltine; ‘what did they say?’
‘She never let on who she was. She said she was a poor wandering creature who wanted to give him her blessin’. And she did; and she cried, and he cried, and Peebles cried, and I was near cryin’ meself,—it was so affectin’!’
‘Well?’ said Conseltine. ‘And what was the upshot of it all?’
‘Faith, there was no upshot at all,’ said Feagus. ‘The boy went away no worse than he kem, promisin’ not to lave the district till he’d seen ould Peebles once more.’
‘If this is true——’ cried Conseltine, shaken out of his ordinary cynical calm by the news; then he stopped short, staring before him with a haggard face.
‘True, is it?’ cried Feagus. ‘Go and see for yourself. She’s staying incog, at Larry’s mill.’
‘And Peebles knows it,’ said Conseltine. ‘By Heaven! I thought something had happened. The old rascal’s been going about all day long as full o’ mystery as an egg’s full o’ meat. If Henry hears of this!’ ‘He won’t yet awhile,’ returned Feagus. ‘She swore Peebles to silence till she hersilf gave him leave to speak.’
‘My God!’ said Conseltine, scarcely above his breath. ‘What’s to be done? We’re standing on a mine of gunpowder while that woman’s in the district.’
Blake laughed. He had been as much astonished at the first hearing of the news as either of his companions, but by this time had shaken himself back into his usual condition of half-sodden, half-ferocious humour.
‘Faith,’ said he, ‘’tis a case of the divil among the tailors. By the Lord, Conseltine, but things are looking mighty quare. I’m thinkin’ I won’t emigrate just yet. Sure, I’ll stop and see the fun! There’ll be great doin’s at the Castle by-and-by, I’m thinkin’.’